Back to the Northeast Shore again
    Twice in the night I had to get out into the strong wind to re-build m y knocked over tent. In the morning the sky is hopelessly clouded and the ocean stormy. The sand swirls and flies everywhere and enters even the smallest crevices. With extreme difficulty we pack our tents and this time breakfast under the reed shelter in a corner of the beach. At least it's not raining yet. It's starting to look like a rest day. Maybe today we'll finally get time to taste the local fish in some village pub. It's still in the forenoon that it begins to drizzle from the cloudy sky and after a while a strong wind and rain pick up. Nothing'll come of flying today, evidently. At least the local farmers will have a good crop of hay. March in Corsica is usually in the sign of the hay gatherer and the hay is, surprisingly, gathered for summer, not for winter. In the winter there is enough grass for the livestock, but in summer with the high temperatures and the sharp sun, anything that doesn't have deep roots dries up. And its then that it comes down to the dried hay.

    After noon some break out Pentangle and try to while away the time by whisking the balls beneath the reed shelter. Later in the afternoon, in even stronger rain we head out for shopping to the neighboring town and fruitlessly search the surrounding villages for a pub where they would fry a good fish for us. The most complex meal, manufacture wise, we are offered is a sandwich in one of the bars. We can also have good chocolate to munch along with it. We return to the beach in the dark. There are no fish. So I cover with, "Mackerel slices in their own juice", from the Ostrava market on Fifejdy with finely chopped onions and garlic. I wash it down with milk, as always, of course.