Ok, so the title has your attention - read on, it's not too far from the truth!


In the early 90s Bronwen and I had two holidays on the French island of Corsica. I had participated in an exercise with a French unit , and revisiting the island for a holiday appealed; it is beautiful and relatively unspoiled compared with the mainland, and even now has a 1950s feel to it.

The first holiday was a cycling tour, ‘mountain bikes’ were just in vogue and the granny gearing promised that even punters could get up hills. Corsica was well suited to this test, and that year just to make sure we didn’t enjoy ourselves too much, we cycled into a headwind for the entire journey.

It was very hot and tiring, particularly as weren’t (and aren’t) cyclists, our tent poles broke, and half way round we were reduced to sending a large box of our ‘stuff’ back from Bonifacio to the UK by parcel post. Less of a holiday, more of an endurance test conducted in the August heat, and fuelled by 'Lauging Cow' cheese, bread and tomatoes. (I know how to look after a girl see)...

Not many photos of the trip survive, and Bronwen wouldn't thank me for posting them up - you get the picture......

So it is I guess, a bit surprising that Bronwen agreed to go back the next year, but this time on a motorcycle packed with our gear for a climbing holiday. From the mid 80s through to the mid 90s our holidays had taken a similar form. Load up a Motorcycle and head to the South of France, or Eastern Alps. An impressive list of venues was ticked in this way – but that’s a topic for another TR.

Back then, pre internet it was difficult to find out about where climbing destinations were. But our cycling trip had given us some tips and we knew that the town of Zonza in the South of the island was close to the Bavella, and that there was cragging to be had.

Our bike then was a BMW R80RT and unlike on our peddling holiday we were experts at packing a bike in a minimalist way; tent, sleeping bags, mats cooking equipment, clothes, hardware and two ropes were all packed onto the bike. It was all manageable unless it fell over (which it sometimes did when parked up on hot tarmac), then, like an overweight turtle on it’s back it would require several burly blokes to get it upright.

Anyhow….we got to Corsica without incident, getting an overnight Italian ferry from Genoa to Bastia. We were in Zonza by the afternoon, got ourselves a camping spot and scoped out the Bavella. Back then, French bolting was still a pretty haphazard affair, and you could still come across some pretty funky protection.


An interesting feature of Corsican granite is the wind erosion called Taffoni, large areas of scalloped rock that provide some unnerving and very often steep climbing on rock that chimes as you climb on it. A not uncommon protection solution was to punch a hole through a skin and either thread it, or, pop a loop through the hole and secure it with a big knot………


We had a blast, the guide was crap, the old established routes hard to find, and easy to get lost on, thankfully on the majority of these older routes you could wander about and work your own way up and then off, it was a lot of fun.


After a week at the Bavella we decided to go down to Bonfacio for a day by the sea, the road from Zonza to Bonifacio is a motorcyclists’ delight steep with a challenging mix of bends.


Anyhow on the way down, we noticed on the right hand side, an elegant and isolated granite dome, standing proudly above the surrounding plateau. On the way back the views of the peak were even better and at an obvious halt we parked up the bike and looked across at the peak, which was probably 2km distant.

A braided series of trails left the turnout and headed in the general direction of the dome, we followed these through the Maquis and after 40 minutes or so we were in a large vegetated gully on the backside of the peak. We thrashed upwards without too much difficulty for several hundred feet to a scramblimg impasse some 100’ short of the top.

At this point it was clear that some proper climbing up a slender ramp would gain another ledge system nearer to summit dome. Bronwen took a seat while I grappled with the ramp, about 50’ of moderate climbing got me to the ledge system, from where a short wall, more difficult that the ramp, but without the nasty drop off gave access to the summit. I took in the view, the summit was a true dome, convex on all sides, a bit too convex to the South! After five minutes I began to retrace my way back down.

But going down, I spotted a small eroded Taffoni portal I hadn’t noticed on the way up, it led into the interior of the summit cap, I slid down into the interior to be greeted to an unusual sight. The Taffoni was extensive and had formed a small cave, inside it was decorated by a series of pagan symbols straight out of a 70’s Dennis Wheatley novel; palm prints, crescent moons, Phalluses, Venuses and a large goat! Around the floor were scattered dozens of votive candles……………


I was somewhat taken aback, and as the air chilled, and before I decided to beat a retreat to Bronwen. She was somewhat incredulous as to what I described, and given how odd it all was we decided to come back the following day with a rope so she could check it out.

The next day we followed a different path which took us to the Western aspect of the Punta, it led to what was clearly a more developed approach, and eventually, a couple of hundred feet below the summit dome there was the opportunity to do some ad hoc slab climbing. A couple of modest slab pitches had us both on the summit, after which we inspected the cave, took a couple of photos, and a little spooked .eft.


Following our noses down the West side we were able to follow an established scrambling route, in a couple of places pegs and slings dangled to give some security on short steps.

So what’s the deal – I guess the time to find out, would be the Summer Solstice, I imagine the cave and summit would be the scene of a massive German shag fest; all mullets, 70’s pants and ‘Ja Baby – geil, tso geil!!’

On a more serious note, it was a startling find in a locale that is so religiously conservative…..

Any how, wind forward thirteen years, and Bronwen and I, along with out lad Tim are back on the island as part of our Summer holiday. A revisit was clearly in order. We were staying in Zonza, so spent a day retracing our steps, chasing lizards and enjoying the vibe.


The ‘path’ up was more difficult that I’d remembered, and a couple of the steps had to be taken carefully, but eventually we got to the summit and cave. It was much the same, though not as many candles littered the floor, still very spooky and Tim was fascinated – though I didn’t have an easy answer to his question ‘so what do they do here dad?’.




There’s more to the Punta than caves and possible shagging though, a six pitch classic slab climb Democratia veaves it’s way to the summit up the South face. Strangely none of the descriptions mention the cave on the summit, though this might be explained by the fact that rapping the route is the recommended descent, you simply wouldn’t see the entrance to the cave.


So there you have it, if ever you are in Corsica, and there’s a myriad of reasons to visit Punta u Diamente should be on your ticklist, it’s one of the most unusual summits around – Even better on the Summer solstice!

For the parents amongst you rest assured I don't spend my time dragging Tim up unlikely rocks. On holiday he gets his fair share of......




Finally, I wonder if our European Nut collector Stephane, a Corsican resident can comment on the cave?

Regards,

Steve