Désert des Agriates & Alajuela
via L'Île-Rousse
I don't take any photos of Saint-Florent. Perhaps it's because I had OD'd. Anyway, it's a nice spot; you'll just have to take my word for it.
Last night, once we'd found the quiet camp site (spent almost an hour doing that), we cycled unloaded back into its compact center, lent our bikes against a palm tree, sat near them and ate a super pasta dinner.
And had cold Pietra, of course.
This morning we went back again, this time calling in at the busy Spar supermarket and then breakfasted on yogurt and bread and fruit before heading south. And we made sure we had plenty of liquids.
We were riding into the desert.
This is no ancient Sahara-like odyssey.
Désert des Agriates is quite new, a 1970s creation. The name 'agriates' means 'cultivated fields' and the area helped feed the Genoese who occupied the island. Then wild fires kicked off a downward spiral and once the top soil had been blown away, all that was left is what is now visible.
Since the 1980s, the Corsican government has done its bit to preserve the area - which seems super-ironic - and the desert is now a nature reserve.
There's no sand to see here as the route climbs out of Saint Florent and becomes quiet. We cycle past a few signs saying keep off the slabs of rock, which is mostly barren and stretches out around us without any sign of habitation.
There are red low-growing succulents crawling over the hot surfaces by the road and shrubs form swathes of fragile green around parts of the vast rolling landscape, with the D81 going up and winding across and over it all.
It's hot again today and the cafe we find after around 20-odd kilometers is very welcome.
We chat to a Cosican couple who are touring around in a car as we sit outside under the shade of a parasol, gulping down our icy-cold orange.
Not long after, we T into the N 1197 and drop down to the shoreline. This road is no oil painting. It's wide and hugs the coast and seems safe with its hard shoulder, but there's no romance in it. A piece of smooth, utilitarian carriageway that lasts for 10 long kilometers, delivering us into the old town of L'Île-Rousse - the red island.
L'Île-Rousse is old and we find its market area, where we buy some bread and tins of fish and eat a picnic. The center seems busy and is at odds with what we've experienced during the last few days, so
decide to keep moving and pedal off along the road out of town, up a short hill and into the quieter surroundings.
We toy with the idea of turning left on to the rural D 151 that heads up into the mountains, but its a bit late and so instead simply head to a campsite at Alajuela, just a handful of kilometers away.
The campsite is spacious and there aren't too many guests. We pitch our tents near a perimeter wall that cuts the place off from the beach, only to realize there's a railway line right behind it when a train trundles by.
Corsica's rail system isn't much to write about and so we don't expect to be kept awake by the roar of locomotives.
After showering, we cross over the tracks and find a restaurant slab bang on the beach. It's a nice spot to unwind and we watch the sun get lower and lower after dining on pasta.
This Pietra is addictive.
Today's ride: 60 km (37 miles)
Total: 150 km (93 miles)
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