This is how I had pictured it.
At the end of a long trip, we arrive at the sea.
Every friend's with new stories and discoveries in their baggage, but things turned out very
differently.
The guy over there on the left hobbling up the road, that's me, after Corsica kicked
my butt, but let's start at the beginning.
We had read a lot about Corsica, the mountain range in the sea.
The summits reach almost 9,000 feet into the sky.
Guidebooks and online articles spoke of a deserted wilderness, of rough and unrightable
trails.
But we were looking for an adventure, we didn't want to hear it.
In May we hit the road, we being Christoph, the MacGyver of mountain biking, an engineer
to the core, always smiling and ready for an adventure.
Johannes is an IT manager, father of a young daughter, enduro racer, and a well-proven
sidekick of mine, and of course, myself, Tom.
I'm 39 years old, father for about a year now, and as much as I enjoy family life, somewhere
deep inside of me, there's always a longing to set out and prove myself.
We live in a world padded in comfort.
As a city resident, you experience weather from a safe distance.
There's always some glass in between.
In this world, doors open automatically.
You climb stairs without taking a single step, where you can buy everything you need in the
supermarket, and much, much more.
I wanted to break free from this world, at least for a couple of days.
That's why we packed our things, and left for close to good.
The Mare Amare Nord is actually a simple hiking route, but we'll try it out with the mountain
bikes.
We said we'd do this in four days.
The guy from the hotel laughed at us and said, if you're fit, you can do it without
bike in 12 days, and with bike maybe in six.
We only have seven days, which means it will be very interesting.
We wanted to escape from inner city life in rush hour.
What we found was a different type of stop and go.
Rivals which appeared fluid and rideable from a distance turned out to be full of tripping
hazards and jagged rocks.
And so we found a new rhythm, ride, push, carry, repeat.
I got it.
That's okay.
How many grams did you save there?
Twenty.
Well, the views are good. We have to go over the back first.
Then we have a small detour to the next village.
The island is a treacherous beast.
The island has thorns.
If you veer off the trail, the shrublin bites back.
And when a cheer of joy finally crosses your lips,
because you spent more than a half mile in the saddle,
you can't get out of the island.
You can't get out of the island.
You can't get out of the island.
You can't get out of the island.
You can't get out of the island.
You can't get out of the island.
If you spend more than a half mile in the saddle,
you can't get out of the island.
Well, the trail that we chose here unfortunately didn't end up here.
At the beginning it was beautiful, but then it got more dense.
We live in the age of instant gratification.
And when you finally come to a downhill, the satisfaction is even more profound.
And when you finally come to a downhill, the satisfaction is even more profound.
On the next day we enter the Tavigniano Valley.
We longed for a life that demanded us to make our own decisions,
where rewards have to be earned.
You don't value things as much if you get them for free.
That looks bitter.
That looks bitter.
On a trip like this you pile up memories.
You create a shared treasure of experiences, serious talk, goofing around.
The bike's wheel becomes an axis around which friendship revolves.
The next day began and we could feel the frost in our bones.
Christoph was the first to sample the course of console.
Despite these warnings, on our descent into the Gola Valley,
for the first time we felt something akin to flow.
We arrived at Col d'Avergio, where the Mare Amare crosses the GR20, the island's most famous hiking trail.
For the first time we sensed the sea on the horizon.
It wasn't far anymore.
Ahead of us was the final descent, down to the gorgeous Belunca.
The rough trail zigzags through a vertical wall.
But then it happened.
Tired riders and dangerous trails don't mix.
The next morning I took stock. A pain for Bruce, a destroyed camera.
It could have been worse.
So I gritted my teeth and I rolled on.
We still had a mission to fulfill.
Finally we arrived at the sea, with aching bones and bruised pride.
The journey was different from what I imagined, but I guess that's the price you pay when you seek adventure and you actually find it.
Thank you for watching.
