Calzola

To prepare for today's journey, I did my homework. I asked Google Maps for a route to our next hotel; although it was car-centric, it was also bikeable. Studying the map, the rest of the group had settled on the same route. There just aren't that many alternatives for getting from point A to point B on Corsica.

I studied my paper map and wrote out a primitive cue sheet. The signs at intersections consist of arrows labeled with the names of the nearest towns—not north/south/east/west. It is important to be familiar with the places you will see along the way.

For me, the low-stress approach would be to go it alone. I promised to call for help if I needed it. As I pedaled away, I overheard a veteran of these tours (no longer able to bike):

She is very courageous.

The road out of Porto started with a seven-mile climb; a Google Streetview car passed me here. Were the cameras rolling? Time will tell.

The road dipped back down to sea level, and then offered 20 miles of rolling hills along the coast before the next sustained climb (five miles). If the natural beauty of Les Calanche de Piana was not enough, we were distracted by the spectacle of an exotic car rally. Lots of those red cars (by Ferrari), one Ford GT, one Audi R8, some Aston Martins and Corvettes. And one vehicle that I recognized by the sound of its engine before it came into view, a Lamborghini Diablo.

After pedaling for more than three hours, I started eyeing cafés in the town of Sagone. I stopped at the third one, eager for the melon et jambon listed on their chalkboard.

Unfortunately, it was not yet noon. Apparently, the guys at the table out front were lingering after petit déjeuner. The proprietors would start serving lunch a midi, or vingt-deux minutes from now.

One does not toy with the rhythm of life in a small European town.

I could not afford the time to wait; I needed to find a place farther down the road after noon, or in the next town.

Instead of my cherished melon et jambon (12€), I found a reasonable pasta salad at the U Express supermarket for a mere 3.58€. In fact, this turned out to be the deal of the century: it was on sale, and rang up at a mere 1.79€. I stopped at a nice spot along the shoreline to enjoy my little picnic. After handing my camera to a French couple for a photo, they wished me bon appétit as they pulled away.

Navigating the outskirts of a major city was the significant challenge of this route. Riding on a national road was not bad in the countryside; getting past Ajaccio was another matter altogether. A matter of a divided highway.

I lacked the requisite knowledge to interpret the road signs. There were circular blue signs depicting bicycles and pedestrians. There were circular red, white, and black signs depicting bicycles and pedestrians. In the US, such a sign would carry a diagonal slash to indicate "prohibited."

I stopped. I studied my map. I needed to travel one kilometer on this portion of the road. Traffic was moving fast. There was no real shoulder, but there was some room to the right of a dashed line—not quite as wide as a standard bike lane.

I took a deep breath and started pedaling. The circular blue sign would have led me onto a peaceful frontage road. The bicycle sign with the red circle meant that bicycles were prohibited. The drivers must have thought I was insane. It was just one kilometer.

Soon, I turned onto D302—the quiet road that would take me straight to our hotel, near the hamlet of Calzola. This involved the final long climb of the day (8.5 miles). I crossed the narrow bridge over the river Tavola and turned into the inn's driveway.

I had climbed 6,235 feet over 72 miles, without a single wrong turn.