Ever since I first heard about the GR20 trek, I knew I had to do it. The GR20 crosses the entire island of Corsica, stretching about 180 kilometers, divided into 15 stages, although there are some subnormals who do two or three stages a day.
-It’s one of the hardest treks in Europe you know, people said, underestimating my ability to do things I am not prepared for. The harder, the better.
No one wanted to join me, so I made the decision to go by myself.
When I told my mom, a true latina, what I was about to do, she freaked out.
-You can’t go alone! It’s an island, you don’t know anyone. It’s dangerous!
-Come with me then, I said, casually.
She didn’t need to be asked twice. And just like that, my mom booked her flight, and everything was set for us to do the trek together.
But then there was my dad, with zero adventurer spirit, who felt left out and demanded to join as well. We explained that it was a difficult hike, not meant for beginners.
We warned him:
-It’s not a walk in the park. This is a trekking that requires some level of skill.
But my dad, proud as ever, swore he’d train daily and be ready within a month.
A month later, my parents landed in Bordeaux. From there, we flew to Ajaccio, Corsica.
We prepared the backpaks. You don’t bring much on a trek. Every item must be essential, otherwise you’re just carrying weight for no reason. And believe me, after 10 days of trekking, you feel every kilo on your back.
The journey officially began on September 10th 2021. We took a train from Ajaccio to Calenzana, where the GR20 begins.
We spent the first night in a shelter in Calenzana. By 6:30 AM, we were out the door, looking for breakfast. We found a bakery a few minutes away on the opposite direction from the path.
-We haven’t even started, and you’re adding more steps! , my dad joked
The trek began brutally hard for my dad. He was was already questioning his life choices. Every hiker passed us with ease.
The trail turned into a climb, requiring us to use our hands. My dad was not okay.
Two hours in, we took a break. Dad was slowly realizing this was much harder than he thought.
-This is, without hesitation, the worst experience of my life, he said
Mom and I walked ahead and waited for Dad. Sometimes, he took so long that we’d yell, “Dad! Dad!” and when he didn’t answer, we’d worry he had a heart attack and would run back to check on him.
A hike that normally takes six hours to complete took us twelve with my dad.
We arrived at the Orto di Piobbu shelter, which was just a campsite with tents. There were dry toilets, cold showers, and a little trailer selling supplies.
Dinner was charcuterie, overcooked pasta with canned tomato sauce, and a burnt brownie. Definitely not five stars. It was awful to be exact.
But when you walk 12 hours a day you are ready to eat almost anything.
The Belgians camping next to us couldn’t believe my dad had made it. They applauded him, probably because they didn’t expect him to survive the day.
-Wow! You made it! Congratulations!, they all said
Meeting them gave Dad a much-needed morale boost. He had been feeling down about not hiking as well as he imagined.
Unfortunately, out of my own stupidity, I hadn’t packed sleeping bags. We froze that night in our tent.
On day two, we woke up at 6:30 AM, still freezing. Dad seemed more motivated, the Belgians had stroked his ego just enough.
We agreed to take breaks every hour to help Dad keep up.
The trail felt easier until we reached a flat rock wall we had to climb. Things got technical fast. Dad started asking questions like a restless child:
-How much farther? What altitude are we at? What time is it? When are we going to arrive?
Eventually, the path turned into a massive wall of rock that we had to climb using both hands and feet, monkey-style
After three hours, we reached a very difficult descent. But it was already 7 PM, and darkness was setting in. Dad was already out. He couldn’t continue. He was having trouble breathing.
-Go ahead, my mom told me. Find help. We’re not going to make it down on our own.
I felt a rush of fear. I didn’t know where to go, and it was getting darker by the second. I was terrified for Dad. I ran, my heart pounding. I nearly got lost two or three times because I couldn’t see the marks in the dark. I sprinted full speed between rocks for almost 5 kilometers.
When I miraculously arrived to the shelter, I explained the situation. Our Belgian friends didn’t hesitate and they volunteered for the rescue.
We climbed back up in the dark. After 40 minutes, we heard my mom yelling:
-Don’t worry about us! We’re just going to sleep here!
I thought she’d lost her mind. I didn’t go through all that for them to sleep on rocks. They’ll freeze to death.
We found them cuddling together on a rock, wearing every piece of clothing they had on their bags.
The Belgians carefully guided my dad down, placing his feet one step at a time. It was surreal: my dad, a giant of 1.94 meters and over 100 kilos, being rescued by two skinny twenty-somethings. It was almost comical.
We made it to the shelter at midnight. I’d done the climb three times that day. I was wrecked.
The next morning, my dad pulled me aside.
-Hide my cigarettes. I don’t want them to think that’s why I couldn’t do it, he whispered.
The forecast was clear: my dad needed to stop. This was only stage two out of fifteen, and he’d already been rescued once.
Since the shelter was in the middle of nowhere, Dad thought it would be fun to be rescued by an helicopter. Sadly for him, there were no helicopters. The shelter manager told him to go to the nearest village to take the bus. It was an easy road that took only an hour and a half to walk through.
-Well, you know how they told me it was only an hour and a half? my dad said. It took me six hours.
He called that day “El Día de la Renunciación.”
With my father gone, it was just Mom and I like intended from the begging.
My mom, was in her 50s and an athlete. She was in fantastic shape. The real adventure began.
We found a rhythm that worked for both of us, although sometimes I walked a little faster than she could manage because my legs are longer than hers. The trail was stunning, jaw-dropping views of nature.
At the shelter, we finally got hot water. We have’t showered in two days thanks to freezing temperatures and no hot water at the previous stops.
It was one of the best showers I have ever taken.
We were sore but proud. We’d finished the stage in six hours flat like the guide said.
Stage four had a reputation for being the hardest: 1,220 meters up, 1,220 meters down. Brutal on the knees. My mom took it like a champ.
The descent was punishing. The shelter was small and totally isolated, but it had hot showers and a caretaker who liked us because he had a Mexican girlfriend.
We hadn’t heard from Dad in a day. Our telephones were dead. We were worried. Someone told us we might get cell service under a crooked tree. We thought he was messing with us, but there really was signal under the crooked tree.
Dad was a bit lost without us. He did not speak French. He thought he might fly back to Bordeaux.
When we reached the shelter, we washed our clothes.
We finally talked longer to Dad. He was in Porto Vecchio, eating at restaurants, sipping cocktails and going to the beach while we hiked. What a life.
We started hiking around 6:30 AM. At one point, the trail rewarded us with views of two oceans east and west. We could see the entire island, even the Tuscan coast.
We arrived to a new shelter, only to find out there was no space left for us. We were told to wait until 8 PM to see if anyone didn’t show up. Otherwise we would have to sleep outside with no sleeping bag. A nightmare.
The shelter manager scolded me:
-How is it possible that you don’t have a sleeping bag, no reservation, and on top of that, you have the nerve to bring your mother along on this adventure?, He was right
In the end, we managed to find a spot to sleep that night.
We started walking at 7 AM, which, for trekking, is like starting at 10. It was freezing outside, and we were at 2,200 meters of altitude. Two rivers followed the path.
We hiked uphill among rocks for four hours. It was tough. When we caught sight of the shelter, we were thrilled, but getting there meant a challenging descent.
When we finally reached the shelter, there was hot water! Time for another shower.
Some hikers took cold showers when there was no hot water, but not us. We wanted hot water or nothing.
To pass the time, we played cards and drank beers. My mom usually wins.
We went to sleep around 8:30 PM.
We had to go into the city to buy sleeping bags. I hadn’t anticipated how cold it could get at night, and we were always uncomfortable.
We walked along the trail for two hours to reach the highway. We tried hitchhiking, but no one stopped.
After about 40 minutes with no luck, just as we were about to give up, a van pulled over. Inside was a German guy who offered to give us a ride.
In the city, we bought our sleeping bags and took the opportunity to eat at a proper restaurant, instead of the usual pasta and tomato sauce served at the shelters. It was glorious.
Back on the trail, we were hit by fog and rain. You could not see further than your arm. The wind knocked us off balance. We were soaked.
Before reaching the highest point, we saw the sea in the distance, framed between the mountains. We hiked up, and when we reached the summit, the view was magnificent.
At one point, we could see the entire of the island.
The last day arrived. We were woken up by some girls making a lot of noise. I asked them to lower the volume.
-I couldn’t sleep because of your snoring, one of the girls replied, and I didn’t say anything.
I felt offended. I am aware I snore when I am tired.
For the last stage, the day began with fog and immediately a tough climb through the forest. We took two breaks.
In total, there are 15 stages. We completed them all, some more difficult than others, but I think my mom and I can be proud that we made it.
We arrived to Conca, where the GR20 ends, without a finish line, no confetti, no medals, or congratulations.
Just us, smiling, tired, and proud. We took a giant beer in celebration.
After the trek we met up with dad who had become one of the regulars at restaurants. People saluted him.
We passed the last couple of days is Porto Vecchio chilling at the beach, eating good food and just enjoying our company.
