Departure 07h25 · Arrival 15h28. Just 8.0 km, but 5h49 of actual walking and 8h03 in total. The most telling figure isn't the distance, it's the gap between the advertised length and how it really felt.
The morning at Ortu has a strange taste to it. We pack up in silence, a little dazed. Arnaud heads back down towards Calenzana. The plan we'd dreamed up for years goes on, but it no longer goes on as planned. The trail doesn't give us long to digest that.
From the very first metres, you can feel the stage shifting gears. It's no longer just a question of legs or breath. The rock takes over, the trees fade away, the path becomes less obvious. We move from a hard hike to something rawer, wilder.
« You learn fast that going down can be just as tiring as going up, sometimes even more. »
Progress becomes a blend of walking, watching and constant little decisions. Where to step? Which boulder looks stable? Where's the next red-and-white waymark? That constant search keeps the mind busy, and there's something motivating about it. There's no slipping into autopilot.
We cross paths again with some faces from the day before. First day without Arnaud, and a first mental test too: are we capable of getting the adventure going again, just the two of us, without letting his departure drag us down?
The Bocca di Pisciaghja comes like a real reward. Up there, the view opens out. The stone takes on warm tones, pinks and oranges: a magnificent landscape, harsh, almost merciless. We take the time to catch our breath, to eat, to look. Not for long, but long enough to print the moment.
Then the GR20 quickly puts us back in our place: the descent towards Carrozzu. And there's nothing routine about that descent. The unstable footing, the rolling stones, the quads burning, the knees taking the hits. You learn fast that going down can be just as tiring as going up, sometimes even more. Your eyes stay glued to the ground — not because the landscape lacks interest, but because every step demands attention.
This kind of passage is going to become a constant. Immense beauty all around us, total concentration under our feet. The GR20 isn't always something you take in like a postcard. At times, you live it with your eyes lowered.
When Carrozzu appears down below, we hear the water before we see the refuge. That sound of the river becomes almost a promise: to arrive, drop the pack, drink something cool, finally come out of permanent alert mode.
On arrival, the relief is plain. On schedule, even better than planned. The end-of-stage beer has that special taste of days that were truly earned.
I head off to the river to enjoy the natural pools and rig up a quick bit of laundry. A short moment, but a precious one. The air changes fast, the chill sets in, and within a few minutes the urge to linger in the water is gone.
This day puts us back on track. We're making good progress. And on the GR20, the kilometres never tell the whole story.