THE FOREST OF BAVELLA.
Bavella is so high up amongst the mountains, that, unless the day be
cloudless, it is useless to make the ascent, as every view is otherwise
lost.
We were favoured by the most perfect day imaginable; and from morning
till evening, not a mist wreath came to hide a single peak or confuse
a single line of the mountain ranges.
We got up at daybreak, and breakfasted on dry bread and coffee at 5.30
a.m.
At 6 a.m. we were in our carriage, brought round by the ever-punctual
Antonio, and driving up the steep ascent in the long shadows of early
day, sunlight on the mountain tops, larks singing their carol, and
heavy dew lying on the sweet-scented grass and macchie round us.
Every yard of the way was lovely, and every turn brought out new
beauties; grandest mountains rising from purple mists of morning, with
jagged peak and architectural column, wide deep gorges, and villages
nestling everywhere with campanile in their centre, among steep green
hills.
Suddenly we came face to face with the snow-clad mountain of Bavella,
white and glittering; and, standing before it, a perpendicular mountain
of purple rock, serrated in the most wonderful manner, like a row of
columns or a Druid's temple. This mountain boasted the name of the
Fourca di Basinao, we were informed; and it continued to rear its wild
hydra head before us all day from behind grassy hill or group of trees,
until at length we faced its precipitous sides on the Bocca di Bavella.
Evia, further on, is a picturesque village, embosomed in trees, which
shut out the most magnificent hills. Here was a fine old church, and
tall campanile, as usual standing apart from the church; and, pacing
slowly before it, a polite old curé, in rusty brown cassock, who took
off his well-worn wideawake and bared his white head as the carriage
passed.
The road to Bavella is not among the best. It is not a diligence road;
and is, besides, a good deal cut up by the heavy charcoal and wood
waggons which ply constantly up and down it.
The turns are sharp, and the route steep and rutty, as well as narrow;
and a nervous person might feel uncomfortable winding above a deep
precipitous gorge, at the bottom of which rushes a foaming river, and
from whose opposite slopes rises the impenetrable forest.
Mossy rocks lay up the side of the cliff above our path; and presently
great Titanic boulders, twice as big as an ordinary house, covered the
mountain flank, and hung across our road, intermixed with the gnarled
and knotted trunks of broken trees.
Here the ground grew soft and park-like; arbutus and garden shrubs
edged our way; and Mediterranean heath, nine or ten feet high, over
which peered grey crag and various trees, made the air heavy with
sweetness.
Then on, to more open ground, past the village of Souza on its
boulder-strewn hill, surrounded by groves of ilex and pine, overlooking
wooded gorge and merry cascade; on, with the smoothly rounded snow
mountain, and the peaked, richly coloured rocks ever before us--with
sheets of blue and white anemone scattered upon the mossy ground at
the foot of giant trees; ascending more and more steeply, with views
ever more and more beautiful, into the enchanted forest, fir-cones
crackling under the horses' feet, and thickly growing pines throwing
shady tracery over the sunny pathway.
Caterpillars' bags overhung the road; and here and there a hacked tree
had poured out a rich stream of turpentine. The bark of one of these
was covered by a multitude of lovely little insects, something like
ladybirds, but flat, scarlet coloured with black spots.
Gradually we went winding up to the Bocca or head of the pass,
every break in the trees showing wider and more extensive ranges of
mountains; and great golden lichen-covered crags, surrounded by ferns
and overhung by pines, presenting at each turn a more perfect study for
a sketch. Corsica is certainly the heaven of a landscape painter, and
Bavella is one of her highest attractions.
The road was rough and narrow, however, now; and here and there, where
a party of cantonniers, or road-makers, were at work repairing, their
heaps of stone still further narrowed the passage for the carriage,
which on one or two occasions passed the corner with three wheels on
the ground, and the fourth hanging over the edge of the precipice!
The forest ceased as we reached the Bocca, to recommence, at the
same distance, down the other side. The top of the mountain was bare
and rugged, crowned by a few cedars; but from this spot the most
magnificent of views lay spread out before us. The forest lay all
around us at our feet; from the other side of the gorge rose the
wonderful Fourca di Basinao; and far away below swelled seven ranges
of mountains, billowed and commingling in varied hues of purple, hazy
blue, and vivid crimson.
A few steps further brought us to the edge of the slope leading down
to the other side, and to the route towards Solenzara; and this view
was almost more beautiful than the other. Forests of pine and lighter
beeches covered conical hills, that looked as if we could have thrown a
stone upon their tops; darker majestic rocks rose like gigantic ruined
castles behind them; close beside us was an unbroken cone of pure snow;
and, far away, beyond all, a wide sweep of bluest Mediterranean with
the island of Asanzara lying, gem-like, upon its bosom.
All down this side of the hill, for two or three hundred yards or
so, the bare rocky ground was covered with low huts of wood or stone,
roughly put together, and not more than ten or twelve feet long. These
huts, which were like a series of human mole-hills scattered over the
hill-side, had an open space left for doorway, but neither door nor
chimney. Peeping inside one, we saw that it was very dirty, with no
other flooring than the muddy ground, and that the only article of
furniture within was an old pan.
These wretched hovels are, for three or four months together, the homes
of the poor cantonniers at work upon the roads; who herd here together
anyhow, obtaining bread and country wine from the little _locanda_
close by, placed under the brow of the highest slope.
At this locanda our horses were put up for the mid-day halt; and
from it, presently, a little circle of five or six women issued, very
curious to eye the foreign ladies, and, if possible, to question them.
One of these was the landlady of the little public-house (for inn it
was not), and the others were the wives of a few of the cantonniers
whose energy or means had enabled them to follow their husbands.
They were not long in squatting round us in a ring as we sketched,
talking rapidly in their Italian patois to each other, and persuading
the brown-eyed, sweet-faced landlady--the only one of the party able
to speak French--to ask us whence we came and who we were. She was too
shy to begin at first, but, once started, kept up a brisk conversation.
Here, in her little home, 3700 feet above the sea level, she had known
but few visitors, especially foreigners, and she was full of interest
and curiosity.
For some minutes we were plied by the usual round of questions as to
our nationality, as to the beauty of England, and the riches of its
inhabitants; and we found the usual difficulty in convincing them that
we were not millionaires.
"Ah, madame!" said the woman, pointing to the little reticule which No.
1 carried over her arm; "you _know_ there is enough money in that bag
to make my fortune."
As the bag in question really did contain money, her remark was not so
far from the truth as it might have been.
"Was it not very lonely living up here all the year round?" we asked
her.
"Ah, well; it was _triste_ in winter, for sometimes they were snowed
up for six or seven months together; but in summer it was not dull, for
she had friends like these with her."
"Had she any children," we asked, "to brighten up her solitude in
winter?"
The dark eyes filled with tears, and the rough brown face softened, as
she shook her head sadly, "No, not one; and she had been married four
years."
"But," we said, consolingly, "there may still be some, at some future
day."
"Ah, madame, I have prayed the Holy Mother of God, and I think it must
be because I am not good enough. But this month (month of Mary), I
have sent an offering to her shrine; and perhaps she will hear me this
time."
The wistful eyes of the poor woman still wore their touching expression
as we said good-bye, and, after a two-hours' halt on the Bocca, walked
off on our return journey.
I should advise all travellers, except those of unusually stout nerves,
to do as we did, and start before the carriage on returning, doing the
first three or four miles of descent on foot.
Even with so careful and skilful a driver as ours, cantering down this
uncommonly steep and narrow road must be a doubtful enjoyment to most
persons not accustomed to live on the edge of a precipice; besides
which, the lovely scenery can be much more fully appreciated on foot
and at a walking pace.
It is something too, to drink in the grand solitude of this
forest-covered mountain side, where the rustle of trees, over whose
heads you often look, and the weird calling of some forest bird, are
generally the only sounds to disturb thoughts which seem to expand with
the wide grandeur of nature.
About a quarter of a mile from Sainte Lucie we got out, and, dismissing
the carriage to its stables in the village, explored the little convent
church upon the hill.
The convent itself, with strong walls and narrow windows, is now turned
into a stable; but the church door stood open, and we entered.
A perfect pandemonium it appeared to be: some men playing jigs on a
wretched little harmonium in a corner of the building, and about sixty
children, of all ages, rushing about the place, dancing and shouting.
The men, as usual, took little notice of us; but the children ceased
their games, and followed us in open-mouthed curiosity from side to
side of the little church, as we made a tour of inspection. It was
a poor little place, dirty and neglected, with a number of wretched
daubs upon the walls--one, the old and treasured picture, having been
painted in the twelfth century, but certainly nothing to boast of,
except in the way of antiquity. These children of Tallano were pretty
and amusing.
We were sitting on the wall in the lane outside the inn, waiting
for dinner, when one of them, a round-faced, brown-eyed boy of about
twelve, seated on a mule, came riding past us once or twice, giving
furtive glances each time.
"Bonsoir," said we at last.
"Bonsoir," said he, turning a blushing, delighted face towards us. "_I_
said 'bonsoir' to _you_ before, when you passed me in the street."
Saying which, and having satisfied his curiosity, the little fellow
turned round his steed and finally rode away.
The expedition to Bavella from Tallano can be done in ten hours;
viz., five hours going up, two to rest on the Bocca, and three for
the descent. It is, therefore, an easy day's excursion. But it is well
worth while giving up twelve or thirteen hours to it: starting at five
or six o'clock in the morning, and returning at seven, thus having four
or five hours in the middle of the day for a good ramble in and out of
and round about this beautiful forest.
Bread and cheese, or other provisions, must be taken, as the little
locanda supplies absolutely nothing eatable in the way of food;
although they probably have some of the good red country wine, for
which Tallano is celebrated. Enthusiastic Englishmen do occasionally
spend a night upon the Bocca; but, judging from what I saw of the
locanda, it would be absolutely impossible for any lady to sleep there;
and one gentleman, who had passed a night in a log hut near the top
of the pass, and who conceives himself, as a rule, proof against the
attacks of any noxious insect, told me that he never spent so miserable
a time in his life, and that he would not repeat the experiment for
twenty Bavellas, exquisite though they might be.
At Tallano we had nothing of this sort. Discomfort, and even dirt
there might be; but it was dirt of the bearable kind, unconnected with
entomology.
But no doubt the accommodation differs. An English lady, met since
our return, informed me that she and her party spent several days in
the forest, in one of the _forestier's_ houses, for lodging in which,
permission must be obtained from the authorities at Ajaccio; and that,
although destitute of all comforts and almost of furniture, the house
was not in any way obnoxious from dirt.