Stage 3: A picture paints a thousand words.

Every corner, a picture postcard.

When I was a kid and we went on holiday my Mum always used to insist that I kept a holiday scrap book or diary. Every night after dinner we were forced, under considerable duress, to sit down and write a diary entry. I used to hate doing my diary entries. To such an extent that the initial frisson of excitement that a vacation brings to a child, would rapidly dissipate when I realised that a holiday was no holiday - it was hard graft, because of this forced diary writing. Sometimes it’s the injuries that have no visible scars that cause most pain.

As I get older I realise that my mother was right about so many things. It pains me more than you can understand to admit this, particularly as my mother might be reading this blog. She was right about the diary too. Looking at those old diaries now brings back so many memories. They are treasured items.

I still find it hard to sit down and write this diary, often there is a lack of inspiration as to what to write. ‘What I did today’ entries are, after all, boring to write and boring to read. Some days the entries write themselves, but on other occasions they can be a real struggle. Today is such a day.

I am sitting on the ferry from Corsica to Nice, the sun is rising over a becalmed sea, the sky a pastel pink and the sea a gently rolling slate gray. I have been reflecting on yesterdays ride from Ajaccio to Calvi. Thinking about how I can describe it. But I cant. I don’t have a vocabulary to do it justice. If I were to try it would risk sounding like hyperbole.

So I will simply say this:

Yesterday was the best day I have ever had on my bike.

It made the hard training during the winter, the vomitron and the crashes worthwhile.

The road from Ajaccio to Calvi is simply stunning. If you ever get the chance to drive it then you should. If you ever pass up the chance to ride it, then I may never speak to you again. High, dramatic, vertiginous mountains, crashing down into seas that look like they were made from crushed sapphires. Rock sculptures, of the deepest ochre, set against a clear sky of almost luminous blue. Surf crashing against white sandy beaches. Beautiful climbs, leading to wide sweeping fast descends. And these were not isolated features. There was a hundred miles of eye popping, jaw dropping, scenic pornography. Every corner brought a new picture postcard vista.

I have been wracking my brains to think of a better road I have ridden. I haven’t come up with one.

Yesterday was perfect.

They say a picture speaks a thousand words. So I am going to shut up and let the pictures to the talking. My camera is far more articulate than I.

Photo Gallery by QuickGallery.com

Monday July the 1^st. Mark it in your diary. If you only watch one stage of the tour then this should be it. Only then will I be able to tell you how wonderful this stage was.

From the middle of a gently rolling Mediterranean sea,

n

PS oh... I'm using twitter, if you would like to follow me in real (ish) time then I will be twittering/ tweeting/ tweetering from @neillkemp