Grand Adventure: Biking in Porto Vecchio

After we learned that you really can’t get anywhere around Porto Vecchio without a vehicle, we rented bikes from funscoots.com! Olivier came to our apartment with a van with two rugged mountain bikes. Each bike came with a lock and water bottle, and the pair came with an extra tube, and a pump. We tried the bikes out and said: “Great!” Then Kate looked at Olivier and asked: “What about helmets?” Olivier looked a little contrite and said: “In France, no one wears helmets!” So, we said, “OK!”

That afternoon it was off to Plage Benedettu, North of Porto Vecchio. We put the beach blanket in the backpack, slathered ourselves up with sunscreen, said “to hell with the wind”, and started biking to Benedettu.

10 km later, we get to the wind swept beach. And, when I say wind swept, I mean damn. We leaned the bikes against a railing, walked over the dune on to the beach and had to hold on for dear life. Not quite sun bathing or swimming weather. We looked around and noticed that the beaches further North and East might be protected. So we got in the saddle and rode first to Cala Rossa, to find out that it was a private beach, and then to Saint Cyprien.

This is Kate’s hair in the wind at Saint Cyprien

This is Saint Cyprien without Kate in the way

The wind was just as windy, so much for our hoped for protection, but there was an open restaurant (it turns out that it ain’t the season anymore… so when we found an open restaurant standing next to the spot where our stomachs were screaming for food, we were pretty happy). Note: Kate’s “salad” at this restaurant was composed of a few pieces of lettuce, some tomato slices, three blocks of cheese, and a slice of wild boar terrine. Kate was happy. (I shouldn’t talk too much, I hate steak hache with fries)

The ride back was directly into the punishing wind and was not fun, not one bit. Until we got close to Porto Vecchio and passed an older man working in his yard. He stopped while we biked past and yelled: "Allez, champions. Bravo!" It felt nice and put smiles onto our faces, until I thought that maybe he meant 'champignons' but that wouldn't make any sense at all.

The next day Kate took the day off and I made my way South East to Palombaggio. This beach is about 12 km away over a fairly substantial hill (why is no part of Corsica flat? hmmm?) and the route is blessed with extraordinary terrain and beauty. From being able to look down onto Porto Vecchio, to the stunning red rock tops of the hills, to the cacti and the palm trees mixed in with the rest of the plants (kind of like southern California but without that many cars and everyone speaks French).

This morning Kate came with me to the crest of the ridge that sits between Porto Vecchio and Palombaggio, at the top we smiled, took deep breaths, admired the view, and then turned around and flew down the hill with the wind blowing through our hair (Kate’s head hair, my ear hair).

The view from the top of the crest