Col de Vergio

Here's the thing about Corsica: The only place that is flat is the sea.

After yesterday's challenging journey, I was not convinced I would ride today. But then, what would I miss?

Our host pointed to a lake on the map; it seemed impossibly far away. "First we follow this white road, then we take this yellow road ..."

From sea level, there is nowhere to go but uphill. Take a glance at a topological map, and this will be abundantly clear.

We inundated the tiny local market in the town of Ota. Shortly thereafter, our group of eight began to shrink.

The first two riders were determined to turn back after we had climbed 2,000 feet. Methinks it can be a bad thing to have too much data.

We stopped for lunch in Évisa. I took one look at the enormous serving of pasta in front of me and pronounced it too much to eat.

I then proceeded to eat it. All of it.

Three more riders turned back. I got a short-lived head start on the remaining two (our host, and one of our most hard-core cyclists), and then settled into my own comfortable pace. We would all turn around at the summit; the distance to the lake was too great.

I was startled when a small wild boar scrambled out of the brush and ran across the road; they're fast! On the way down, I paused when I met a small group of them. Two youngsters were engaged in a circular romp in the middle of the road, while the adults foraged in the roadside grass. Like the wandering cows and sheep, they ignored me and I continued on my way.

After stopping to marvel at a spectacular gorge, I noticed a tour bus edge around a sharp bend on its way up the hill. The stretch of road between us was little more than a single lane wide, and I definitely did not want to be squeezed against the low stone wall at the edge of the gorge. I tucked into a wide spot and waited for the bus to pass. The driver was attentive and waved to me in appreciation.

With today's climb of 5,015 over 44 miles, I have climbed nearly 10,000 feet in two days. Evidently I am stronger than I thought.