Corsican reflections

Sea kayaking the southwest coast

The ferry disgorged us onto the dockside of Ajaccio just as darkness was descending. At the back of the bay, 10km away, was a just visible row of street lamps, suggesting a beach in front of a road. We launched our boats off a marina pontoon by the uncertain light of busy bars and restaurants as passers-by looked concerned.

Once clear of the town and its dazzle of lights, the sea became rather more sinister and exposed. The horizon would momentarily disappear between intermittent swells, gentle hill-like waves were coming in, lifting us up then lowering us down to obscure our view. Then, right in front of us, the sea erupted in an explosion of white – a 'boomer'! 'GO RIGHT - GO RIGHT!' I shouted to Eli through the darkness. A swell had broken on a sub-surface rock, and had almost caught us.
But if there were swells coming into the bay, what were they doing on the beach we were aiming for? A surf landing at night could be a real adventure and for Eli a real mis-adventure. But our luck held and we landed on the beach with only one boat with its cockpit full of water. We put up the tent, pleased to have started the expedition in good style.

Rabid

The morning started well as Eli walked off and returned clutching a just-baked baguette and croissants made in heaven. We packed up and put on our gear. Hell! One of my neoprene boots was missing. Dogs had run through the camp earlier. We scoured the beach in both directions and found it 200m away, slightly chewed and possibly rabid. But I was relieved that I could complete the trip without a lot of undignified hobbling.

The northwest and southeast of Corsica have the best reputation for sea kayaking, but, without a car, our trip was determined by the availability of ferries to and from Barcelona, via Sardinia. Our trip ran down the southwest coast for 150km, taking ten days, from Ajaccio, down past, then returning back up to Propriano.

Although the area had been recommended to us, we were disappointed by what we saw from the ship on arrival. Nothing dramatic, just a gently sloping, indented coastline covered with Mediterranean scrub and a sprinkling of holiday homes. But it proved to be better than we anticipated. The rock is a conglomerate that looks like granite, but in fact is soft and easily eroded by the sea. There are lots of fantastic shapes – some as if eaten by acid, others like molten wax. There were fine beaches and views too and we snorkelled from most camp spots.

Being there at the end of September gave us the advantage of relatively few tourists, a warm sea and still plenty of good shore-side restaurants in which to savour the excellent French Mediterranean cuisine. In one place, a group of Americans had got up from their table leaving half of their food. With a shrug, the waiter passed us a couple of their untouched and expensive langoustines (monster-sized prawns). Entirely delicious!

Paddling in the Mediterranean has a lot to offer. You can camp on the beach, though it needs to be very discreet – tent up after dusk and down at dawn. If questioned, then say you will be bivvying - and use the tent as a sheet. The clear colourful water is beautifully warm from July to September but it's best to keep clear of the period mid-July to August as it gets too busy. Mosquitos are a problem, but only on still-air evenings. It's not as stormy as UK waters, but you still need to plan for one-day off-water due to the sea state. The tidal range is a paltry 12 inches but this can lull you into a false sense of security. If the sea builds up in the night, it can easily snatch boats parked too close to the water's edge (as some friends discovered one morning). The restaurant food is usually great, so it's worth budgeting for this and skimping on costs elsewhere if needs be.

Wilderness section

A fine wilderness section of coast led us to the village of Tizzano. It was pleasant, with a small older quarter. We had a cheeky camp spot, secretly tucked away in a small rock outcrop on the beach beneath the town. In the evening there was an indignant 'Oi, Oi!' above us. We jumped, thinking we were being challenged but it was just an old man shoo-ing his donkey along the path above. In a beachside bar we relaxed in front of the sunset and sampled the local speciality – 'Cap Corse', a herbal wine made thick and sweet by boiling with sugar.

I like using ferries and trolleying the kayaks around. You can cut costs by travelling outside high season, booking the boats in as 'bicycles' and sleeping on the floor with a thermarest, rather than taking a cabin. Sleeping thus, we provoked one, very upright, Italian lady to look away then snort 'Hippies!'

On the last night, back in Sardinia, we decided to camp near to the dock, ready for the early morning ferry. Eli thought we could camp in the port area but the police barred us and so we made for the scrub near to an oil refinery. It was an extraordinary place – like something out of Dante’s ‘Inferno’ – a vision of hell! The roar of steam, a chimney (with a ‘WOOF!’) belching great plumes of flame that lit up the night time cloud, arc lights, smoke and barking feral dogs. We lay in the tent sweating and dabbing each other’s bites – the mosquitos had feasted on us.

On the ferry, we reflected that it had been another good trip in the Mediterranean. It was short on challenge but it had that winning formula of beach camping, sun, delicious food and some very pleasant sea paddling.

After arriving back in Barcelona, we caught a torrential thunderstorm as we trundled our boats for a couple of hours through the city back to Eli's apartment. Kayaks running along Barcelona’s streets are a rare sight. One passer-by looked at them, then at us, and quipped in Spanish, “I know it's been raining a lot but getting out kayaks is really over the top!” Soaked through, we laughed. We'd been caught by a Barcelona ‘boom – boomer’!