Since its formation more than 4 billion years ago, our planet has been subject to climate fluctuations, alternating between warm and cold geological periods. Twenty thousand years ago, during the last ice age—known as the Würm—the Corsican mountains were covered by vast glaciers that extended deep into the valleys. It was a landscape of extreme polar conditions, a world apart from the climate we experience today.
After this long period of cold and dry weather, the climate gradually warmed, leading to the disappearance of the glaciers. As they retreated, they left behind glacial valleys, as well as the constellation of lakes that dot our mountains. These natural gems are now a source of fascination for hikers seeking to reconnect with nature.
As if it were a pilgrimage, for the past ten years or so I’ve instinctively made my way to the center of the island to recharge my batteries in the lake region. In the summer of 2021, as is my custom, I once again spent a few blissful days at the Manganu refuge (on the GR20), my go-to spot in this quest for tranquility as I set out to discover the “tears of the mountain.”
Day 1: Lake Creno and the Rinella Lakes
The first day of a mountain trip is never the one devoted to the main activity—that is, hiking. It must always be preceded by a period of preparation involving gear and the itinerary. Because, even though this isn’t my first time, a trip to the peaks must be well-planned so as to leave no room for uncertainty—or at least not too much room.
Once I’ve marked the various stages on my watch and stowed my backpack in the car, I head out to pick up my climbing partner, Jean. We head to the town of Soccia and the parking lot overlooking the village, at an elevation of 1,000 meters. Our hike begins at this parking lot.
We set off, our bags packed, along a wide, marked trail that will lead us to Lake Creno (“Lavu a Crena”). This first stop offers a strikingly beautiful scene, though I’ve lost count of how many spuntinu I’ve devoured on the lush green lawns lining the shore. The postcard-perfect view of a Canadian lake captures my imagination every time. It must be said that, with the towering pine trees surrounding it, Creno is every bit as stunning as any North American landscape.
We hit the trail again for the second part of the morning, which takes us through a much rockier and drier valley. The heat is stifling, even though we’re approaching an altitude of 1,500 meters. An hour and thirty minutes later, we arrive in Manganu, our base camp, from which we’ll set out on this hub-and-spoke hike.
I see the familiar faces of the caretakers, Jean-André and Antoine, with whom I’ve grown close over time. Sitting around a table with a beer, we chat about the past year while the refuge’s terrace offers an unobstructed view of the Camputile Plateau.
The day isn’t over yet, and we’re heading back toward Bocca alle Porte along the GR20. Some moments in our lives seem to be suspended in time. What can I say about that unforgettable sunset from the Crête de Rinella over the lakes of the same name? Fabulous.
Day 2: Lake Nino, Pozzine, and horses roaming free
We wake up around 7 a.m. after our first night adjusting to our new, spartan accommodations. As I do every year, I rented a tent from the Corsica Regional Nature Park website. That means one less thing to carry.
We’ve planned a hike to Lake Nino for this second day. The round-trip hike takes only 3 hours, which will give us time to enjoy the scenery and take photos. It’s an ode to taking things slow, where strolling is the order of the day.
After crossing the Acqua Ciarnente Pass, we enter the Camputile Plateau, where cows graze peacefully. The landscape is that of a typical alpine pasture shaped by pastoral activity. In fact, very few trees can be seen here, while there is a high density of sheepfolds—both abandoned and still in use. In the shadow of Punta Artica, which stands proudly like a pyramid, we make our way toward the sheepfolds of Vaccaghja.
The trail winds its way up a gentle incline to the lake. Nino is a lush, green oasis where it’s recommended to take off your shoes because the grass is so delicate. As we enjoy our lunch, we watch the free-roaming horses that come up to hikers to beg for a piece of bread. It’s a delight for the children, who play with these wild horses.
After a nice nap on this natural mattress, we head back to our sanctuary. We arrive around 4:00 p.m., and Jean packs up his things and leaves for the Lake Creno parking lot because he can’t stay with me any longer.
As for me, I’m heading back the way I came toward Vaccaghja, where I hope to photograph the sunset over the Camputile Plateau.
Day 3: Lakes Melo and Capitello
It’s 6 a.m. on this third day; it’s time to set out. My footsteps follow the famous GR20 trail. Just as I did on the first day, I’m heading toward Bocca alle Porte, formerly the highest point on the GR, which rises to an altitude of approximately 2,230 meters.
The climb is steady and the effort sustained, with the trail alternating between rocks and pozzi. The final ascent to the pass, while not presenting any major obstacles, is tiring. Here, everything is rock. Granite appears in all its forms: as slender peaks, boulders, pebbles, or even as dust.
The difficulty is matched only by the purity of the scene that unfolds when you finally cross the pass. Perched in the Rotondu massif and surrounded by sharp peaks, my gaze wanders down into the Restonica Valley, where the lakes of Melu and Capitellu lie nestled below. It’s a very photogenic scene, but I chose not to capture it because it’s already been shared so widely on social media.
Throughout the descent toward these mountain gems, I’m accompanied by yellow-billed choughs circling overhead. I stop for a bite to eat in Melu, where I take a well-deserved break. It’s a chance to remind myself that we owe respect to this natural world, which is so powerful and yet so fragile at the same time.
I made my way back to Manganu along the same route, where a good night’s sleep awaited me. The 10 kilometers, combined with the 1,150-meter elevation gain, had worn me out.
Day 4: Lake Goria and the End of the Adventure
The last day of this life disconnected from civilization. I wake up early because I absolutely have to be at Lake Goria for sunrise. It’s a spectacular sight, with the golden light of early morning enveloping the lake’s dramatic cirque. As I stand there alone, I break the silence by pulling a granola bar out of my backpack.
Back at the lodge, I pack my things and chat with the caretakers one last time this season. It occurs to me that the mountain atmosphere has a uniqueness that can only be found when you experience the mountains firsthand. It may seem obvious, but you have to be out there and live it to understand what that means.
After days of hiking that sometimes test one’s resolve and relentlessly wear down the muscles, the hiker finds a little comfort among fellow travelers. We share a beer, memories, and plans for the route we’ll take the next day. We form fleeting friendships, just long enough to cross a mountain pass or admire a lake.
Since the start of this little adventure, I’ve constantly been meeting and connecting with adventurers from all walks of life. Everyone is eager to share their experiences in a warm and welcoming atmosphere. The great outdoors doesn’t just allow us to reconnect with nature; through physical exertion, it helps us rediscover ourselves and understand others.
