Whitsun on Corsica – When the Bends Suddenly Bloom
Same game as last year, different season. Whitsun 2026, and Corsica has slipped into a colourful spring dress. The bends? They have stayed loyal and countless.
From Livorno by bus to Bastia, a short night, then straight on to the west of Île Rousse. Last year we had only brushed past this corner – this time we really took it in.
Simply beautiful, on land and from the air. Rugged rocky landscapes, clear rivers, authentic villages that seem so wild and unvarnished, as if they had never seen a tourist. And everywhere that scent: immortelle and myrtle in full bloom. Immortal, just like the impressions that linger here.
From above with the drone the contrast truly becomes tangible – the gentle coast meets rough mountains, as if the island itself had decided to tell everything it can in a single picture.
Bends, colours, scent and that quiet feeling: something new is just beginning here. And the bus? It is winding along again, but this time with something new: new brake pads. It can make good use of them here.
The lighthouse on the mole on the left, calm sea on the right – twice from the ferry window.Spray hits the yellow hull, and beyond it nothing but water.An orange tree in blossom in front of a tall house with narrow balconies.Two red poppies among grasses and small yellow flowers.House number „22“ on tiles on the left, a shop window with „Liste de Naissance“ on the right.Woven chairs in front of flaking paint, a star and graffiti.Tall houses twice over: narrow balconies, shutters, and little sky between them.An orange tree in blossom between tall façades with green and grey shutters.A stone church portal on the left, a weathered house with balconies on the right.A river valley runs into the mountains, with snowy peaks still behind.Switchbacks through rock and maquis, the sea at the very back.Pale S-bends in rocky hill country, packed close together.Turquoise pools in a stony riverbed, forest all around.Clear green water between pale boulders.Small cascades in the stony bed, maquis on both banks.Snowy peaks above a gulf, the coast road stuck to the slope.Hairpin bends over jagged cliffs, deep-blue water below.The same headland twice: the road runs over pale rock to the sea.A tight bend between pale rocks, and maquis everywhere else.The road keeps to the edge of the headland, turquoise water below.Rocky capes and small bays, a long coastline behind them.Bend after bend above the steep coast, the road finding its line over the rock.Steep cliffs and a narrow path on the cape.
Here, a little west of Île Rousse, the island suddenly shifted down a gear.
A calm flow in the narrow streets, no tourists, only the soft hum of life. Lovely townscapes that feel as if painted, and landscape shots that seem almost meditative from above. Rugged rocks meet gentle hills, all in that relaxed spring light.
Just being there. Breathing. Slowing down.
Sometimes the most beautiful moments are the ones in which nothing happens – except the gentle winding of everyday life.
Shade under leaning trees, slender cypresses standing behind.Yellow immortelle on silvery herbs, right in the spring blossom.A silver-green tree against the light, dark maquis around it.Two brown cattle lie on the gravel by the river, mountains behind.A brownish lagoon behind the shingle beach, clear water in front.The road through the forest on the left, cliffs over turquoise water on the right.Pale rock and maquis above water clear enough to see through.The mountain road bends below a rocky slope of maquis.Palm trees standing in front of a pale church façade.A pink church with a dome and a pointed tower, bushes in front.A pink façade, a round window and the inscription „Dio vi salvi Regina“.A tree’s shadow on a white wall on the left, palms in front of it on the right.Pink flowers on needle-fine leaves, the background soft.Houses and church towers behind a high wall, a lot of sky above.Blue shutters, a wrought-iron balcony and an outside stair.Yellow flower spikes on the left, a red sign covered in stickers on the right.The bell tower above orange roofs, the sea behind.A colourful patterned window in the dark, only a section lit.A wooden fence in the dune grass, a citadel on the headland.
Piana to Ajaccio – or: when red mountains steal the show from the blue sea
The drive through the mountains from Piana towards Ajaccio is one of those you never forget.
Narrow mountain roads on which our bus feels its way forward quietly, as if it didn’t want to disturb the landscape. On the left the rugged red mountains, rising massive and almost a little defiant out of the green. On the right the calm blue sea. A contrast that is almost too beautiful to be true.
We were completely alone. Windows open, the scent of spring and fresh mountain air streaming in – a mixture that goes straight to the blood.
First the aerial shots of the mountain roads: winding, wild, glowing red in the morning light. Then the lonely beaches north of Ajaccio – pale, quiet, almost intimate from above.
The coast road takes the bend, maquis on the rocky slope to the right.A hairpin under the overhanging rock, jagged peaks behind.A house with flower boxes on the left, banded rock up close on the right.The red rocky coast of the Calanques, deep-blue sea below.Red ridges and green slopes above the sea, in the Calanques.Switchbacks over a grey ridge, the road very narrow.The road squeezes between red rock needles in the Calanques.A hairpin between red walls, the gulf in the background.Sharp red rocks right beside the road in the Calanques.A red house, yellow frames, wrought-iron balconies.A stone statue between two lions, tall houses with shutters behind.Sail masts in the harbour on the left, a shop behind its shutter on the right.A table and folding chairs on dry ground, right by the sea.Through a dark window: a fence, the beach and the sea.A wooden hut with a raffia screen, curved chairs in the tall grass.A stone aqueduct with arches, bushes growing in the joints.A ruined house among trees on the left, a chimney in the maquis on the right.A small shingle cove with red rock, framed by bushes.A low coast, rocks and maquis, the open sea behind.A wind-bent tree in dry grass, hills behind.A woman in a red shirt crouches in the silvery herbs above the sea.Stone houses stacked on the rock, stairs and small balconies.A faded house on the road to the sea, the sign reading „Hotel-Bar“.A long sandy beach, the water beside it turquoise and clear.The strip of sand by the maquis on the left, a boat’s wake on the right.The beach curves into an arc, with dark patches in the water.A stream runs across the sand into the turquoise sea.Paths through dunes and maquis, only a strip of beach beyond.Pale water with dark patterns, right against the sand.A round watchtower above the long beach.A sandy track cuts straight through the low maquis.Dunes, paths and a narrow strip of beach.The watchtower stands on the headland, a few rocks in the sea.
Between Bonifacio and Porto Vecchio – or: when summer is still on holiday
Between Bonifacio and Porto Vecchio, Corsica shows its calm, almost shy face in spring. The beaches that pulse with life in summer now belong only to us – lonely, wide and quiet.
The cliffs of Bonifacio stand there again like a silent guardian – white, rugged and unshakeable. The drone fought bravely against the strong wind, as if to say: “I’ll fly, but only because it’s you.”
Rondinara in particular caught us, that horseshoe-shaped bay that looks as if the island itself had drawn a smile into the sea. And Palombaggia with its red rocks and pines, where the light simply never stops being beautiful.
Here summer is still on its way, and spring has only just cleared the stage. And that is exactly why it feels like a secret that only we know.
A mushroom-shaped limestone rock and a small bay at Bonifacio.A pale bay between cliffs on the left, a bare tree on the rock on the right.A moth with folded wings on a white surface.Crooked trees on a dry hill, tall houses behind.Yellow flowers in a wall niche on the left, a board reading „Boissons“ on the right.Layered limestone cliffs and a single rock in the sea at Bonifacio.The old town on the limestone cliff, the sea below, at Bonifacio.A gate in the fortress wall, the houses of Bonifacio behind it.Scratched plaster on the left, flaking paint with red traces on the right.A colourful shard floor under a heavy wooden door.White umbrellas on the balconies of a tall house.The mushroom-shaped limestone rock again, turquoise water around it, at Bonifacio.The limestone coast at Bonifacio twice: cliffs, bays, pale water.Pale sand and turquoise shallows with dark patches.An S-bend winds through dense green forest.The road makes a hairpin bend between lush trees.A stone church with a tall bell tower among green hills.A grey off-road vehicle with a roof rack, right by the beach, mountains behind.Blossoms on the sand on the left, white flowers with yellow centres on the right.A sandy beach and rocky islets, a single canopy in the sky.Sandy maquis on the coast to the left, turquoise water to the right.A turquoise bay, a strip of sand and a dark lagoon behind.Rondinara, the horseshoe bay, sailing boats in the turquoise water.A sailing boat in turquoise water, the lagoon behind it.The sandy beach draws an arc over pale and dark ground.A lagoon, a turquoise bay and a wooded headland.
Ajaccio to finish – or: blue jacarandas and Corsica’s fragrant dress
To finish, four more pictures from Ajaccio. The flowering blue jacarandas in particular blew us away – a glowing blue that suddenly drifted Mexico over to us and conjured a smile onto our faces in the middle of Corsica.
Then it was back home on the ferry.
A special journey. More authentic than in summer, calmer, more genuine. The island had put on its loveliest fragrant dress – and we were allowed to take it with us in our memories.
Until next time, Corsica. The bends are already waiting.
A violet jacaranda in front of a pale house with shutters in Ajaccio.The harbour twice: sailing boats, a church and a row of houses behind, in Ajaccio.A violet jacaranda in front of a yellow façade with white shutters in Ajaccio.A broad wake with streaks of foam, looking back from the ferry.
