GR20, Corsica Part III- Fat Girl Pants

I think it is pretty amazing that I am on my third post about this trip, yet I haven't even begun to write about the hike. If you are hoping that this will be the post where the adventure starts, I am sorry to say that you have to wait. This post is about my fat girl pants.

Tania and I woke up on D-Day -1 (that is army speak...sorry) refreshed and excited. We were traveling from Ajaccio to Calvi where we planned on enjoying the beach and a nice meal before settling in for an early night. It was a five hour train ride total with one change in Ponte Leccia, with the first three on a spacious train where we had our own seats, a small table, and outlets to plug in our electronics. Laid out in front of us was a typical French breakfast that we had purchased from a local Boulangerie; pain au chocolate, croissants, and my personal favorite, pain au raisin. We enjoyed our leisurely breakfast as the train roared through the countryside, giving us a full view of the mountains that would be our home for the following 10 days.

Waiting for the train in Ajaccio

At Ponte Leccia, we disembarked and crossed right over to the train that would take us to Calvi; a completely different story as far as comfort. The train was packed! We spent the next two hours crunched up alongside other travelers in the aisle of a train car. We were greeted in Calvi with clear blue skies and crystal clear blue water resting against the clay background of the rocky countryside.

Calvi

We spent a beautiful afternoon on the beach, relaxing our bodies before the onslaught of pain was to begin. We decided that we would treat ourselves to a carb-filled dinner, and went back to the hotel to change. This is when the night turned to crap.

While home in California in March to visit my family, I had gone to REI to purchase some necessities for my trip to Corsica. I knew that I didn't want to carry a lot of clothing, so I figured buying a pair of those hideous pants that unzips above the knee to make shorts would be the perfect addition to my hiking wardrobe. I found a great pair on sale for $25 that fit me perfectly!! I had tried them out during my hike in the Alps and had been very pleased with them.

During the weeks following my trip to Oberammergau, I ate a lot of cake. Actually, I can't say that I ate any more than usual, but as I tried on my REI pants to wear to dinner that evening in Calvi, the reality of my weight gain was on full display because I could barely button my pants and when I did, there was a a perfect muffin top that rolled over my pants. Horrified, I started cursing REI and their crap product for shrinking after only one wash.

"How could this happen?" I cried, while stuffing a piece of ritter hazelnut chocolate into my mouth. "These are brand new pants! How could they shrink like this?!"

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, horrified that I looked like a soccer mom in high waist jeans and a FUPA (fat upper pussy area- this is how we describe that belly roll that is cut in half by the waistline of mom jeans).

It was five o'clock in the evening, the night before we were to leave for the GR20, and my wardrobe had been cut in half. There were a few stores in town where I hoped that I would be able to find some replacement pants.

There was nothing. We were told that there was an intersport on the other side of town, so we started huffing it. Our evening of relaxation was now spent running down the street, trying to find the intersport before it closed. We had no idea how far it was, and after about two miles, we realized that the only way we were going to get there was if Tania flashed her boobs to the passing cars in hopes that one would stop. Ok, she really didn't show her boobs, but it makes the story a little more exciting.

We finally found a ride and made it just in time. I found a new pair of pants for the trip and the evening was saved!! It wasn't until four days later, after days of walking hour after hour, that my REI pants fit again, that I realized that they didn't shrink and I had just needed a pair of fat girl pants to get me through until I dropped some weight.

GR20, Corsica Part II: I Would Rather Starve

Getting to Corsica can be an adventure in itself. I was traveling from Frankfurt, Germany to Ajaccio, Corsica which I thought would be an easy trip since Frankfurt is one of the main hubs in Europe. However, any time you have to fly through Paris Charles de Gaulle airport, don't. I have no idea who created the layout for this mess of an airport, but every time I have to travel through here, I overdose on macarons since it is the only thing that keeps me sane.

Last year I had decided to visit a friend that I had met during my deployment to Afghanistan. He was a pilot in the French Army, and stationed in a remote little town in the South West of France called Pau. I will be the first to say that this is truly one of the most beautiful areas I have seen in my life. The town of Pau itself is charming, but it is the countryside around it that is spectacular. Flying into the Pau airport, you are gifted with a breathtaking view of the Pyrenees. Perfectly situated just outside the Basque Country, Pau is an hour drive to the mountains in one direction, and an hour's drive to the beaches of Biarritz in the other. If it wasn't for the pain of traveling there, I would go more often.

Charles de Gaulle is set up where no matter which terminal you fly into, you will have to take a bus for a connection. In the case of Pau, landing in 2F and needing to go to 2G sounds a lot easier than it is. 2G is, at least this is what it felt like at the time, on the completely other side of Paris (ok, it is really only about a 20 min bus ride, but I do not need to continue to explain my love of exaggeration). SO when booking my flight to Ajaccio, I didn't pay any attention to my itinerary until I was standing confused in Paris. Unbeknownst to me there are two airports in Paris, Charles de Gaulle and Paris Orly which is literally an hour away by bus if there is no traffic. So, with my thousand pound backpack and a box full of Ladurée macarons, I hopped on the bus to Orly.

Although my flight to Paris was just over an hour, and the flight from Paris to Ajaccio was only 30 minutes longer, it took me 12 hours to link up with Tania in Corsica. I arrived at the Hotel Napoleon (Ajaccio is the birthplace of Napoleon, hence the name of our hotel) at 2030 that evening to find Tania passed out on the bed, drool dripping down the side of her face. She had flown all the way from Texas, so I could forgive the lack of welcome party. She woke up guns blazing, thinking I was an intruder, and I almost pissed my pants. If I haven't mentioned this before, Tania scares me. As my mother so eloquently put it when I told her I would be doing this hike with Tania, "Don't try and keep up and don't let her boss you around! We all know Tania is both physically and mentally stronger than you are."

Cowering in the corner, arms raised to protect my face to the inevitable ass kicking that is fit for an intruder, Tania realized that it was just me and relaxed her death stance. "Oh my G-d!!!" she screamed as I jumped on the bed, giving her my biggest bear hug. We spent the next hour giggling, catching up and talking about the trip. She showed me her bag, and we went over our supplies for the next 10 days.

Tania and I had talked a lot about food rations and gear, and we had decided that she would carry the tent and cooking supplies, and I would carry the food. She walked over to the closet and pulled out a box full of food. She had organized it in a way that there were three bags: breakfast, snacks and dinner. I had already contemplated pushing Tania off the side of the mountain due to my heavy bag, but as I lifted the food that I was going to be carrying, the risk to her life increased significantly. The weight of my bag has increased about 8-10 pounds (no joke- I weighed it later at the train station). This new addition has brought my bag to a whopping 40 pounds!

I put the bag on my back and pranced around the room before looking at Tania with pure hatred. "I would rather starve."

She thinks I am joking and laughs at me. All I can think is how this is going to suck...

Our bags looking innocent...looks can be deceiving

 

GR20, Corsica- Part I

It has been over a month since I returned from my trip to Corsica, yet I have yet to post anything about my experience. That is because I have needed extensive therapy to handle the trauma that was my trip, and today is the first day that I have felt well enough to share my story. Ok, I am being overly dramatic as usual, but it really was a harrowing experience. I decided to keep a journal, so these next few articles will come from that. This means you will be reading my raw emotions and I ask kindly that you do not make fun of me, especially where there is poop involved.

For those of you who do not know, the GR20 is a "trail", about 112 miles long, that runs from Northern Corsica to the South. It is mountainous terrain with over 90% of the "trail" not being a trail, but rocks, granite slabs, and cliffs leading to sure death if you make a mistake. There are sections with chains to keep you from plummeting hundreds of feet into more rocks below.

This is an example taken from Day 4

To keep me from experiencing carpel tunnel, and to keep these posts at a rather reasonable length, I have decided to break down each post to a day. Therefore, this first post will be of my travel to Corsica.

6 August 2014

Standing in line waiting to check in my backpack, I have come to the conclusion that I am completely unprepared for this trip. After 45 minutes of standing in the same place, my back is killing me and all I want to do is throw my bag off my shoulders and run out of the airport screaming "I QUIT!! I QUIT!" A normal human being preparing for a trip of this caliber would have WORN the pack at least once before the day of departure. A normal person would have, perhaps, gone on a hike with it to test the fit, the load, and the stability. I am not normal in any way, shape, or form. Procrastination at its finest came into play and the first time I strapped that bag on was as I was leaving my house. Standing in line I am beginning to wonder how I can get out of this fiasco with my pride intact.

My good friend Martha gave me a rather brilliant idea the other night over a plate of hot curry at the local Indian restaurant. She had gone on a hiking trip the previous summer through Norway with a small group from our CrossFit gym. By day four Martha, who has more muscle per square inch than anyone I know (which isn't saying much since she is only four feet tall and 50 pounds soaking wet) was ready to throw in the towel. Even though she was in fantastic shape, her little midget legs couldn't keep up with the rest of the group and it is at this point that she hatched her evil plan. Although she be but little, she is fierce...and a little sadistic.

Her plan was to knock over her best friend Kat so she would sprain/ break a leg and the hike would therefore come to an end. Hearing these words come out of her mouth made me choke on my mango lamb curry.

"You're nuts! I love you, but you're nuts!"

She looked at me, smiled her wicked little smile and said "just wait. You will be thinking the same thing soon."

Standing in line at the airport, I began to see her point...

Another topic of conversation during this memorable dinner was a few other points I had missed while planning this epic adventure. Martha, not only being completely direct when it came to her opinion, also found great joy in other people's misery. As loyal of a friend that she is, she takes great joy in the idiocy of her friends.

Martha: Did you pack a map?
Me: No, why? Do you think I need one?
Martha: Not if you have a guide
Me: I do not have a guide. I am my guide
Martha: Is the trail marked?
Me: Yes...I think
Martha: Do you have a compass?
Me: Nope! But I have a really cute blue and pink shark watch which is waterproof up to 100 meters!
Martha: And that will help you how?
Me: It won't break while drowning in my tears of misery
Martha: Have you tried on your bag yet?
Me: Yes...at the store when I bought it
Martha: Have you packed it yet? How much does it weigh?
Me: I will pack it tomorrow
Martha: You are leaving tomorrow
Me: Yes
Martha: Bless your heart (that is West Virginia speak for you're an idiot)

Yup...I am totally unprepared for this trip.