RUGGED CORSICA RIVALS ST TROPEZ FOR GLAMOUR
HOW odd that so few British holidaymakers have discovered Corsica. In Cap Corse (the northern ‘thumb’ of Corsica), we heard only one other family speak english — in peak season. Yet here is an island that not only has dramatic mountains and unspoilt beaches, but was also once ruled by Britain — for a couple of years in the 1790s, when Lord hood helped the Corsicans briefly throw off France’s yoke.
We flew direct from Birmingham to Bastia. After half-an-hour’s drive, we found our villa, La Lezardiere, in a gladed valley, quiet despite a couple of neighbouring properties.
The nearest village was Oletta, perched on a hill and so unblemished by modernity, it could be used for a Fifties mafia film.
We loved Oletta, particularly its epicier, selling salamis and flavoured oils, and a couple of lunches we had at Auberge A Magina — formal French cooking with coquettish waitresses and an unfussy Corsican wine list.
Cap Corse is the home of sweet Muscat and plenty of potable rose wines. At Bar Chez Mathieu, we fell into conversation with pastis-toping locals who quickly dispelled the Corsican reputation for truculence. Prime topic of conversation? Brexit. The old boys were envious. ‘ Vous etes libre!’ they cried. A few miles in the other direction was the pretty port of St Florent, sometimes spoken of as ‘the new St Tropez’. That comparison is justified, in terms of the idyllic setting, the waterside restaurants and streets with boutiques — but St Florent is not a la-di-dah place.
You sense that it laughs at — rather than is impressed by — the swanky superyachts dropping anchor in its harbour.
Men played boules in the village square, while French bourgeoisie tucked into ice creams and Pietra beer at cafes under lime trees. In Saint-Florent Cathedral is the mummified body of a 3rd-century Roman soldier, for those of ghoulish bent.
The Golfe de Saint-Florent is one of the most impressive bays in the Mediterranean and was long coveted by the Carthaginians and Romans, and then a long procession of invaders: Vandals, Ostrogoths, Saracens, Byzantines, Lombards, Ottomans and Genoese, some of whose forts survive. You can see how Napoleon Bonaparte, son of a Corsican diplomat, developed warlike habits.
Throughout the day, boats of all manner of sizes chug out of St Florent harbour, past its Genoese citadel. We took a 20-minute ferry to the Plage de Loto, part of a protected shore with wondrously clear waters. Much of Corsica has been designated national parkland.
The winding roads of Cap Corse are not built for haste, though that does not deter Corsican drivers. One day, we tootled to the north of the island, Barcaggio Beach at the tip having a remote feel to it.
ANOTheR day, we swam in a mountain river, watching lads leap off a bridge into a deep pool. I expected to see more about Napoleon, but there was little exploitation of his name. Instead, anti-French sentiment is evident from graffiti-strewn road signs that erase French names in favour of their Corsican equivalents.
under floodlights by Oletta’s disused monastery one evening, we listened to a concert of nationalist Corsican music, melancholy songs about deserted villages and forested hillsides
Near the end of a blissful holiday, we drove miles up a steep, unmade track, the wheels of our rented Ford spinning.
We were high above Murato, one of those forlorn villages with closed shutters and alley cats fighting over chicken bones.
Finally, we reached a plateau of pastureland with a stone farmhouse, the Campo di Monte restaurant.
Below us, St Florent Bay was glistening in the sunset. I scolded myself for not discovering Corsica sooner.
TRAVEL FACTS
CORSICAN Places ( corsica.co.uk, 01489 866931) has seven nights at La Lezardiere from £794 pp, based on four sharing. Includes flights and car hire.