TRAIL RUNNERS

Inov-8 have used graphene in their shoes before, but not like this. Working with scientists from the University of Manchester, the British brand has come up with a way to incorporate the wonder material into their midsole for the fi rst time. Called ‘G-Fly’, the new foam boasts a long lasting energy return unlike anything else on the market. A decoupled midsole helps the forefoot adapt to tricky terrain while keeping the heel stable. These innovations make it wellsuited to ultras, or long days on the trail.

Anyone who’s followed surprise. The 3D Vectiv Kipchoge’s road running Kipchoge’s road running carbon fi bre plate, which records will know that records will know that sits between these shoes’ it was probably only a it was probably only a rocker midsole and matter of time before matter of time before reinforced breathable carbon fi bre plates carbon fi bre plates knit upper, is about as started appearing in started appearing in cutting edge as tech gets, trail shoes. That TNF trail shoes. That TNF off ering added stability got there fi rst is also no got there fi rst is also no and forward propulsion.

Given that the original Bushido was a best-seller, it’s perhaps no surprise that La Sportiva made only minor tweaks to its successor - chiefl y a remodelled tongue and toecap. It’s extremely durable for a shoe of this weight, and off ers incredible grip, with lugs that reach around to touch the midsole to help handle awkward inclines. These are built for aggressive trail runners, tackling the kind of rough terrain you fi nd around La Sportiva’s HQ in the Dolomites.

Based in the Lake District, a part of the world not exactly renowned for its dry or dusty trails, Inov-8 built its reputation by making shoes that could grip on almost any surface, no matter how steep or muddy. The aptly-named X-Talons are a case in point. With outsoles enhanced by graphene (the wonder material that’s simultaneously stronger than steel, but stretches like elastic) and chunky, 8mm-deep lugs, these can cleave through the deepest of mud.

Updated towards the end of 2020, the new All-Terrain Runner 6 (ATR 6) from French brand Hoka One One are designed to handle a wide range of trail types and running surfaces. With a widened heel platform, they’re more stable than previous models, but maintain the maximal approach to cushioning. The CMEVA foam underfoot soaks up shocks, while the medium tread makes them versatile, suited to urban tracks as well as outdoor trails.

Designed as something of an all-rounder, this newest addition to Salomon’s Sense range would make an excellent introductory pair of trail shoes, or suit anyone looking for ‘front door to alpine trail’ performance. ‘Optivibe’ foam in the midsole off ers softness without being too spongey, and mid-sized lugs and ‘Contagrip’ sole aid the grip on diffi cult surfaces. An aff ordable, tough and versatile platform for training and racing.

The GR20 in Corsica has a fearsome reputation. But as Matt Westby finds out, the difficulty of the trail is matched by the splendour of the landscapes.

The length of the GR20 in kilometres

The height in metres of Corsica’s highest peak, Monte Cinto

Hours and 6 minutes – the record time for the GR20, set by ultra-runner François D’Haene in 2016

Throwing my pack down, I sink gratefully to the ground outside the refuge, soaking up the last of the afternoon sun. All of the seats are taken by fellow hikers, but a bare patch of wall to rest against is plenty comfortable enough for my beleaguered body. I pull my phone from my pocket and send a text message to my Dad. “Ridiculously tough trek. Terrain is brutal. Two days in and I’m already broken.” In fairness, I had been warned this would be the case by the various guidebooks, websites and blogs I read over the past few weeks. Corsica has a reputation as being a rough, uncompromising place, full of rough, uncompromising people. (The island’s most famous son is, of course, Napoleon Bonaparte.) It’s perhaps not surprising then that the island is home to the toughest of France’s Grandes Randonées, or ‘GR’ Routes, the GR20. But while I’d read a couple of things suggesting that this was ‘the hardest trek in Europe,’ I’d dismissed it. Surely it couldn’t be that bad.

Today I was proved wrong. Emphatically. Almost immediately after setting off at 7am, we were clambering over 40-degree slabs of granite, scrambling up boulder fi elds masquerading as paths, traversing exposed ridges and descending scree slopes that may as well have been made out of marbles. Twice we took on enormous climbs up to wind-battered passes and twice we had to stumble all the way back down to the next valley along, our thighs, calves, knees and pretty much every other part of our anatomies already screaming in submission.

The views were magnifi cent – cathedrals of rock towering over deep pine valleys – but the trail to get to them was quite simply the worst I’ve ever set foot on. Now, sipping the dregs from my water bottle outside the Asco Stagnu refuge after more than 10 hours of toil, I’m beginning to wonder if this beast of a hike would have been best left alone. The only consolation is I’m not the fi rst to feel this way, and defi nitely won’t be the last.

Thousands of walkers take on the GR20 each summer, navigating all or part of the 180km between Calenzana, in the north-west of Corsica, and Conca, in the south-east. Those with any sense can do just the northern or southern half over a week and call it quits at a village in the middle of the island called Vizzavona, where a train is waiting to take them back down to the coast. But for those, like me, deluded enough to try the whole thing, an average of 14 or 15 days walking, with 12,500 vertical metres of climbing awaits. There are refuges at

regular intervals along the way, off ering cramped beds for the night and unnecessarily expensive meals, but places get booked up months in advance and many instead opt to pack a tent and camp outside the refuges - the only fl at ground anywhere on the route. For many, this means lugging a stove and countless kilograms of pasta, carrying up to 90 litres on their backs.

Pressed for time, my friend and I are attempting to complete it in a far more ambitious 10 days, with an 11th added on to climb Corsica’s highest mountain, Monte Cinto. The only way to make this feasible is to travel light, packing only the absolute essentials, and eating in the refuges. The smell generated by just two T-shirts, a fl eece, a rain jacket, a down jacket, one pair of shorts, one pair of trousers and three pairs of walking socks will no doubt endanger public health when I stride into Conca, but on account of how many struggling people we have overtaken so far, it appears camping light has been a shrewd decision. Yet rushing also has its cons. The GR20 is made up of 16 ‘stages’ varying from two and a half hours to seven, and while almost everyone ‘doubles up’ on one or two, we’re doubling up on no fewer than six stages - four of which our guidebook predicts will be 10-hour-plus slogs.

Today has been the fi rst of those epic walking days and even though the dust is still settling on both my boots and my thoughts, I’m already regarding this as one of my hardest days of walking ever. We stump up for dinner in the refuge and with my wallet signifi cantly lightened, I’m asleep as soon my head hits the pillow. But we’re up again early the following morning for our attempt on the 2,706m Monte Cinto. It’s not on the route of the trek but my semi-masochistic friend thought it would be a good idea and, in the name of naivety and bagging a peak, I didn’t argue.

I’m soon regretting it. The boulder-covered trail to the top is somehow even more broken than the GR20 and our progress is consequently so slow that after four hours of lungbusting, quad-crunching slog, we’re still only at a small plateau well below the summit. We stop for a drink, snacks and photos of the chaotic, yet idyllic, valley up which we’ve just climbed. But as we do so, the wind whips up and dark clouds suddenly muster over the mountain’s craggy pinnacle.

The temptation to press on regardless is hard to resist, but recent events have made us all too aware of how dangerous these peaks can be in bad weather. Just a few days earlier, seven hikers had been tackling the most diffi cult section of the whole GR20, the notorious rock walls of the Cirque de la Solitude – not too far from where we are now – when heavy rain caused a landslide and washed them away to their deaths. Several others were hospitalised, but survived.

With the tragedy fresh in mind, the weather worsening and time getting away from us, we decide to wave a white fl ag at Monte Cinto and turn back, taking solace in the fact we don’t have to rush the descent and can at least enjoy the humbling

beauty of this part of the range. We are due to tackle the Cirque the next morning – our third day on the GR20 proper – but it’s still closed and so instead we head to a road adjacent to the refuge to catch a bus around it, rejoining the route in the next valley along. Within a couple of hours of picking back up the red-and-white daubs of paint that mark all 180km of the GR20, it resumes its quest to snap our bodies and sap our morale by hitting us with the nightmarishly steep scramble up to the 1,962m Bocca Foggiale. The ascent is so vertical in places that you use your hands as much as your feet. By the time I fi nally stumble my way to the top 90 minutes or so later, my fi ngertips are raw and my shoulders feel like I’ve rowed the Atlantic.

Thankfully, the end of the stage is waiting not too far away at the Refuge de Ciottulu di i Mori. It sits at the throat of an expansive grassy valley, overlooking neighbouring peaks and, in the far distance, the Mediterranean.

While refuges in the Alps are wonderfully atmospheric places that can be as much a highlight of the holiday as the walking itself, here on Corsica they are more basic. From the outside Mori’s stone facade gives it a quaint appearance, but on the inside it’s bare and basic; not an ice axe hanging from the wall or a black-and-white photo of triumphant 1930s mountaineers to be seen.

And space is at just as much a premium as nostalgia. During the busy summer months it’s a scrap to claim a seat in the dining room, and the food isn’t much better. Three-course meals are available for 20 euros, but the guardians who prepare them aren’t exactly Michelin-starred chefs. Put it this way; you’re not likely to be asking for the recipe afterwards.

But then there’s a certain rugged charm about the whole experience too, and anyway, you’re usually so tired and hungry by the time you reach a refuge that even a rollmat on the hard stone ground outside and a bowl of salty lentil soup feels fi ve star.

Over the next few days, the GR20 pushes us into what becomes a rhythm. Wake before dawn; eat a badly crushed cereal bar I brought from home for breakfast; start walking at fi rst light; climb up an enormous hill; take photos of fabulous vistas at the top; try not to break an ankle on the descent; then repeat, usually several times, before staggering gratefully into the next campsite, alongside the next refuge.

The seventh day is supposed to be only four hours long, but with my friend’s penchant for punishment not satisfi ed, he decides we should go off -piste once more to tackle the 2,622m Monte Rotondo. Yet again I don’t protest, only this time I’m glad, because while the trail is hard to follow, the climb is a joy.

The highlight comes 200 vertical metres from the top, when a picture-perfect lake known as Lavu Bellebone appears, with the summit ridge just behind like a castle wall. We had no idea it was there, and so it feels as if we’ve stumbled upon an undiscovered wonder of the world. The 360-degree views from the top prove just as spellbinding

Several airlines fl y direct from the UK to Corsica, including British Airways and Ryanair. Alternatively, if you want to keep your carbon footprint low, you can get from London to Nice by train with a single change in Paris, and catch a ferry to Corsica.

You can only camp at the refuges along the route and early booking is essential.

The GR20 is well signposted, but a guidebook like the Cicerone Press guide is recommended.

Callenzana

Corte Moriani

Guagnu

Ajaccio

Zicavo

Quenza

Isolaccio

Conca

and, given that no one else has chosen to make the ascent today, they’re ours to enjoy alone. For the remainder of the day and all of the next, we make our way back down to the GR20 and then along to the halfway point of the trek. Arriving in Vizzavona, we gorge ourselves on pizza, beers and soft drinks. We need the calories, because our relentless schedule means we must knock off the remaining six stages and 92km in just three days - each lasting at least 11 hours.

We take hope from the fact the GR20 supposedly fl attens out slightly in the less mountainous southern half of Corsica. But we quickly fi nd that although we’re no longer crawling up and down colossal peaks, it’s still far from a Sunday stroll. The going remains tough. Our penultimate day lifts us steeply back up onto a long, serrated ridge and our pace drops again, but unbroken views of the southern part of the island and the distant Mediterranean are ample compensation.

By the fi nal day my feet are in turmoil – desperate for a pair of fl ip-fl ops and the sanctuary of a sandy beach – but the spectacular scenery helps take my mind off the pain. First we see the snaggle-tooth peaks of the Bavella Needles and then begin to spot the red rock of the island’s southern range, which fi nishes off the GR20 with a fl ourish.

When we fi nally limp into Conca, punch-drunk and stinking like farm animals, it’s perhaps fi tting that there is no fi nish line, and no obvious point to take a ‘victory’ photo. You don’t conquer the GR20. Rather you experience its many challenges and treasures and hope to get to the end.

Hardest trek in Europe? It gets my vote.