Campervan Therapy

We struggle to find a campsite with an available pitch near Genoa where we’re getting the ferry to Corsica’s Bastia – it’s August after all.

La Vesima Campsite, Arenzano

This ramshackle campsite is sandwiched between Liguria’s SS1 coast road and the railway line. Rugged cliffs hem in the small shingle beach, making it claustrophobic. The SS1 has a footpath but it’s so frantic with traffic I’ve no wish to ingest a year’s worth of exhaust fumes.

The restaurant perched over the bay, the peach sunset and the violet sea save the evening. And the food is superlative – warm octopus and potato salad, followed by sea bream ragu. The waitress chooses us a modestly priced red. She tells us Altro Passo is the best – and she’s not wrong. It’s blackberry smooth.

The Moby Dada

I wish our ship was still called the Princess Maria, but someone in Moby’s head office has decided to call it the Moby Dada. Coupled with that, the 40 year old ferry is painted with Looney Tune characters .

A very excitable seaman directs Seán’s reversing into the hold, pushing the mirror into the van, so that the poor man can’t see anything behind. The excitable seaman bellows “Vai, Vai, Vai,” slaps his forehead, cursing this ridiculous driver, who won’t reverse at 100 mph, with his mirror tucked in – this doesn’t bode well.

Camping San Damiano

But the sea is as smooth as silk and by 6.30 we roll through Bastia to San Damiano Campsite, sandwiched between  Étang de Biguglia lagoon and miles of sandy beach. The lagoon is a nesting site for wintering flamingos, Montagu’s harriers, and curlew sandpipers. Despite the voracious mosquitoes, the area is a wildlife haven, just kilometres from the Bastia’s thriving port.  We watch the islands of Capraia and Elba brooding in blue as setting sun burnishes the sea with copper. At night, we sit on the beach and the stars sparkle in the inky sky.

Biguglia’s wildlife

We cycle off along the path edging the lagoon. The string of lagoons on the east coast make up one of the most extensive wetland units of the Mediterranean. The Lonely Planet guide tells me that I’ll hear the water rail’s strange pig like cry – and I do. It sounds as if there’s a whole gang of snorting pigs jet-skiing on the lagoon.

The Beach

Later, we go hunting along the beach for the white sea daffodil, which flowers in August and, again, luck is with us, we find it glowing on the beach at the foot of the majestic Aleppo pines.

 I dodge the purple jelly fish stingers that pulse in the sea – their sting painful even though they’re rather beautiful.

Corsica’s Polyphonic Singers

A duo specialising in Corsica’s polyphonic singing perform at the campsite’s communal seating area – the female singer accompanied by a male guitarist. The Corsican folk songs  are plaintive and haunting. The harmonies are rich and their voices clear as bells. I don’t know what they sing of, but it sounds immeasurably sad and evocative. It’s what I love about motor-homing, the unexpected round every corner.

The Money?

€26 plus tax – per night San Damiano