I know I say this every week, but I had difficulty picking my image for this weeks PhotoFriday theme, “The Coast.” And that’s because my first reaction was, well, any picture with the sea or ocean in it. Then I realised that “The Coast” is a little more specific than that; it may be where the water meets land but, to my mind at least, it doesn’t conjure images of a beach. Hence this picture take towards the end of my week in Corsica, in Porto.

Please also vote for my entry in last weeks challenge, “Sexy.” I’m number 159.

The cars in the Rally of Corsica were zipping through the streets at High Speeds, which I thought made this a good candidate for this weeks PhotoFriday challenge.

Please vote for my entry in last weeks challenge, “Shiny,” I’m entry number 162.

I have no particular reason for posting this picture of a fort in Porto, Corsica. I just like it!

The first thing I thought of when I read this weeks PhotoFriday theme, “Wildlife,” was the African Savannah. The lions, gazelles, giraffes, all the famous big mammals. Unfortunately I’ve never been. So I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with this picture of a goat I took in Corsica. The thing I like about it is the sad look in his eyes; he may not be wild but he wants to be.

Please also vote for my entry in last weeks challenge, “Casual.” I’m entry number 162.

Like many people, I take the vast majority of my pictures outside. Yet, how do you get across the greatness of outdoors? I wanted the picture to show the scale and grandeur, the exhilaration of being in the middle of nowhere. It was a tall order so instead I picked this image which was taken on the walk from Sermano to Corte in Corsica.

Please also vote for my entry in last weeks challenge, “Movement.” I’m entry 211.

I found this weeks PhotoFriday theme, “Movement,” much easier than some of the recent ones. As soon as I saw the title I knew that I had to use this image of a speeding rally car that I took last year in Corsica.

Please also vote for my entry in last weeks challenge, “Tools.” I’m entry 150.

Today really marks the beginning of the end as I return to Ajaccio in preparation for the flight home tomorrow. It’s kind of odd not to have to get up early in order to cram in five hours walking, but, given this is a holiday, it?s also rather welcome. (Well, I could have gone for the early bus to the capital, but I decided to relax in laid-back Porto instead.)

The curse of the low season strikes again, as the tower is closed at ten in the morning despite the sign saying that it opens at nine. I am told it actually opens at eleven, but at five past the gates are still chained shut.

I head for a coffee in one of the few open cafes. While I wait, the tower opens. Indeed, now the sign says it opens at eleven.

First stop on the way up is a small museum. It starts with a bible passage and heads downhill from there. It?s difficult to tell exactly what it?s for. It?s not exactly about Porto, it’s not all religious or historical. I guess it adds value-for-money to the entrance fee for the tower. Inside the tower is nearly as disappointing — and also only in French — but, fortunately, the same cannot be said of the view from the roof.

The stop for the bus back to Ajaccio is in some doubt. The tour notes say not to believe the tourist office but it seems slightly implausible that it should leave thirty minutes walk up-hill away from the town centre. Implausible or not, it’s true and I leave Porto with the rumble of my wheely-luggage. Once on the bus, the trip is surprisingly quick and efficient. The roads start very narrow, with magnificent views over the coast and horrifying drops to the same. Once past Piana the roads remain twisty and narrow but are less likely to induce travel sickness.

Ajaccio seems very different on my return. Somehow smaller, but familiar and busy. I’ve spent most of the week seeing almost no one else, just the odd walker and a regular at a hotel bar. Seeing cars zipping in and out of traffic is a shock.

I take a quick wander around before heading back to the airport. On the first night it seemed large and alien. Today it seemed much smaller and more manageable.

I took Cours Napoleon as far as the beach, took a detour via the the Citadel, which was much more closed than that in Corte. Still a military base, the place is surrounded by barbed wire fences. Nearby is the restaurant I ate at on my first night here — that seemed miles away at the time!

I meander back up to the main shopping street, Rue Cardinal Fesch, which at this time on a Saturday is still largely closed. I had hoped to bring back a little something but ended having to go into a super market for a bottle of local wine — not exactly what I’d been planning. (Typically I picked the only bottle in the whole store that would not scan. My French wasn’t really up to the ensuing conversation so I just nodded and smiled until they took some money.)

Overall it was a fairly relaxing end to a great walking holiday. Some of the hikes had pushed my abilities but, ultimately, that’s a good thing. Even at the time where I was totally exhausted, the magnificent sights of the country never let me down. The food and hospitality were a bonus, and I loved the fact that Corsica is not just an extension of France. Despite the links, it truly has its own identity. It’s surprises like this keep me travelling.

Today is the last day of walking, and is a relatively east stroll from Evisa to Porto via Ota. The first half is, according to the guidebook, one of the highlights of this part of Corsica.

I’m not entirely convinced, though. Mostly it’s descending through pine forest, which is pretty but not stunning. I’d probably have been more impressed had we not experienced the scenery on the first couple of days. I cross a couple of old bridges. Pretty and something that I’ve not seen yet this week but I’d hesitate to call it a highlight of my week here.

I stop for a drink in Ota, a beautifully situated village about half way on our walk.

The rest of the walk was on a tarmac road. Cars travel quickly even considering the narrow lanes and significant drops to the side, meaning that I tended to dive to the very side of the road whenever I heard a vehicle.

I entered Porto on a main road and head right to the sea-front, here my hotel is located. I get there and I see a “Hotel Ferme” sign, which I initially take to mean this entrance is closed but actually means the whole hotel. Not good.

I eventually find that I am booked into another hotel not far away, unfortunately it’s at this point that I realise that my bags were supposed to be heading by taxi to the closed place. I am assured that the taxi firm knew where to send the bags. I am less sure.

At the second hotel I find the receptionist doesn’t speak English and is not terribly interested in finding my bags. (Or maybe doesn’t understand, so I may be being mean here.)

I call the taxi company. They note that the first place is shut. (I know!) I’m currently panicking — a delay to the bags could screw up onward plans from here — and so am not entirely sure whether they commit to send the bags to the new hotel or not.

I decide to take a wander around town while I wait; there’ll little I can do and fretting is not helping!

Until the 1950′s there was little here except a Genoese fort on a rocky hill overlooking the bay. In 2007 there is the same tower, a few hotels, restaurants and cafes. In high season the place is overrun with tourists but in October it’s pleasantly laid-back. So laid-back, in fact, that most of the hotels, bars and restaurants are closed.

Still, the harbour is pretty and there’s a little excitement as an ambulance hurtles down from the mountains to a waiting helicopter.

Meanwhile, the bags do arrive and panic abates.

The guide book suggests two restaurants, noting that the others are generic tourist traps. Of course, out-of-season the good places shut. In fact, as noted above, most of them are. I end up in one slightly secluded place, hidden in the rocks below the tower right by the sea. It’s actually quite good and makes a pleasant end to the weeks walking.

Tomorrow I head back to Ajaccio.

I “cheat” on the walk from Calalucca, starting a taxi ride away. The basic idea of the tour so far has been to do the Mare a Mare Nord starting from Sermano heading towards to Porto. My walk up to Lac de Nino meant that I skipped one part.

As it turns out, I find the walk easy, at least in comparison with the last couple of days. I arrive at the hotel mid-afternoon and just mellow out until dinner. This is easy to do as the location is great, looking down the valley and over the hotel pool.

The proprietor is described in the walking notes as “a character” and he proves to be just that. He confuses my by describing the steak as “international” and the chestnut mousse as “Corsican.” But there’s no confusion over the quality of the food once it arrives.

It’s a lovely place and I can’t help but look forward to the next day. The guide book describes it as the best walk and the tour notes say that tomorrow is the best hotel.

In a change to our advertised programme — mainly the Mare a Mare Nord — I decide to walk up to the Lac de Nino, as recommended by the lady running the hotel I’m staying in.

The walk starts in a pine forest a ten-minute taxi ride up hill. The path begins fairly gently but soon consists of large rocks. As I ascend the rocks get smaller and loser. Walking gives way to scrambling and a little climbing. I realise that I’m lucky to be heading upwards as the opposite direction looks to be almost impossible for people as dextrous as me.

On the way, the coloured way-marks are accompanied by piles of small stones, some in neat pyramids, others artistically balanced on or inside dead trees. These were often easier to find than the official marks, but it made you feel very guilty when you very nearly accidentally knocked them over when resting!

I pass a farm and then the level where there are trees shading me from the mid-day sun. After a couple of false “I’ll definitely be at the top after this next bit” declarations I really did reach the summit. Looking down the other side I have my first view of Lac de Nino.

As the guidebook says, it does have a somewhat eerie quality to it, although I’m not sure about looking Tibetan.

After pausing here for a bite to eat I press on. Shortly after the lake I meet with the GR20, a long distance path for hard-core walkers, and continue for a couple of hours.

At least that was the plan. I see no way-marks and no obvious signs of a path. With clouds descending on the peaks and the number of daylight hours dwindling I decide that getting lost up here would not be a good option and reluctantly start to retrace my steps.

Despite looking particularly nasty on the way up, my descent is probably my quickest and easiest so far. This could be tested further as the next couple of days are going to be heading west, largely downhill and towards the coast.