Les Calanques (west)

Just two months after our foray on the eastern half of the Calanques, Dan and I were back to complete the section of the GR98 between Marseille and Cassis. At least I, in my obsessive way, was anxious to follow the route of the GR in preference to the many other options, and Dan was happy to comply. We’d attempted to get away a couple of times before, but the third time was lucky enough to come up when Chris and Tami were visiting, so Chris came too. We agreed to meet at Place Castellane just before 8, but Chris proved so unexpectedly easy to rouse at 6.30 that we two found ourselves there half an hour early. Dan arrived right on 8 and we were walking up the track out of Luminy by 8.30. There certainly wasn’t any frost in evidence this time, and we were soon all down to t-shirts in the morning sun, though having to lug our extra layers around all day anyway. We reached the turn-off where Dan and I had struck up the hill before, and instead turned to the right, downhill into the first steep descent of the day.

The descent included a short pitch with knotted ropes, and a few other scrambly bits, but Dan didn’t seem too put out. My knee, on the other hand, was complaining by the time the slope had begun to level out, and I realised that I would have to live with this for the rest of the day. The scenery, as before, was spectacular, with the most interesting bits in the morning’s stretch between Sugiton and Sormiou. I realised that having a digital camera with the capacity to take upwards of sixty pictures in one outing was a definite liability when it came to trying to make good time.

Under an overhang

Looking east into the sun

Looking across the mouth of Morgiou

The Calanque de Sugiton

We rounded the Cap de Sugiton to come down into the Calanque de Morgiou above the path where we’d walked with Hugh and Jill, Matthew and Toby back at New Year. At Morgiou we stopped and had a good long drink and a look at the map and the guide book – we were making pretty good time. We were soon slowed down, however, when I left my stick lying where we’d stopped and didn’t notice till we were well on our way along the so-called “Corniche du Renard” on the south-western side of the calanque. So Dan and Chris had another rest while I hurried back to get it. There followed a steep haul up onto the crest of the ridge, where Dan toyed with the idea of taking in the Cap de Morgiou, but Chris and I were less enthusiastic, especially when we realised we were barely a quarter of the way to the finish.

Morgiou from the west

Dan & Chris above Morgiou

Chris above Morgiou

Looking east from above Morgiou

So we kept strictly to the GR, following the crest and enjoying more spectacular views, then coming down by another steep descent into the Calanque de Sormiou.

Sormiou again

Sormiou was prettier than Morgiou, and we stopped on a bench there to eat our lunch. By this time our water supply was running low and this port turned out to be as devoid of water as Morgiou.

Next came another climb up to the Col des Baumettes, then over to the Col de Cortiou crossing the road to Sormiou en route. By this time I was beginning to feel very tired, with a headache on top, and we were all getting rather thirsty. Dan was keeping a brisk pace, Chris was keeping up and I was definitely lagging behind.

A pheasant

One good thing was that the path was now reasonably level for most of the next stretch as far as Callelongue. The scenery was less spectacular, although I was a lot less bothered about getting more pictures than about keeping going. I wondered if I was actually ill – Carrie and Kirsty had both had something in the previous few days. At last we reached Callelongue and our thirsty eyes fell upon a small roadside café. Dan demonstrated his Scottish ancestry, however, by first ascertaining whether there might be a source of free water somewhere. A friendly local led us to a drinking fountain where we thankfully gulped down a litre or two each and filled our bottles. The friendly local stayed to regale us with tales of American girlfriends he’d had, and made approving noises about how few “Zoulous” there were in the Marseille quartiers where Dan and I lived. We tore ourselves away in the end, and set off up the last climb of the day, over the western end of the Montagne de Marseilleveyre.

Dan was still in front and I a long way behind, but none of us noticed when we accidentally left the GR and ended up doing a slight detour round a buttress instead of going over it. Finally we came down into la Madrague de Montredon, with my knee telling me it had had about enough for one day, and Dan and Chris’s feet saying the same. I worked up enough energy to organize a group photo before we reached the bus stop. Amazingly, there was a bus waiting just about to leave and we sat and munched tortilla chips all the way back to Place Castellane. Only now did Dan and I start to feel the worst damage of the day – our necks and arms were bright red. And I’d been carrying my little bottle of suncream round in my pack all day unopened…