Corsica (day 10) - Plage Portiglio to Ajaccio to Calvi (40 km)

Predictably, I was on the road early this morning. 5:45 to be exact. My mass times velocity was not squaring in this stupor and, consequently, moved at an all time slow. One small hill and the road curves around yet another series of coves before reaching the next substantive town -- Porticcio, just 14 kms south of Ajaccio. Out of the corner of my eye I see a sign for the 4-star Soffitel, a rarity on this island (there are only 5 4-star hotels on the entire island and most independently owned). And then it hit me! All 4-star hotels worth their rating have nice amenities, nice bathrooms, nice buffets! Pulling out my comb and a fresh coat of lipstick, I stroll into the lobby like I owned it. English is a requirement for the Chef de Reception so it was time for my 'tour operator' routine.

I looked at a room, asked about group discounts and, to my intended purpose, was invited to look around. I beelined it for the large bathroom -- brushing my teeth, washing my face, a little mascara -- all visible signs of the sand gone. Looking like a million euros but still feeling a bit lethargic, the poolside breakfast buffet was all too tempting to pass by. Surrounded by guests in their pink terry hotel robes and slippers, I read the newspaper, feasting on fresh fruits, selection of grains, warm dishes, cold drinks and an unlimited carafe of cafe. I could barely keep myself from laughing out loud. Arriving in Ajaccio with plenty of time to spare, I picked up my backpack from one hotel, my books from another, before immersing myself in the Mediterrean Sea.

The 3:00 o'clock train to Calvi was not without its events. Too many people, not enough seats, overheating, forwards, backwards.......you couldn't help but enjoy every hour of it. The cyclists tended to stick together. Comparing maps and medals, it was a time to be proud. The single most rewarding moment of my Corsican cycling tour was when the train chugged past the Vizzavona station along the valley that marked the start of my climb up Col de Sorba. Cranking my head all the way back, I could see the vertical switchbacks I had climbed, I could see the pass where I celebrated and I could feel the adrenaline all come rushing back! Tonight, I slept under the sheets.