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  • It was our first day on 20 stages long GR20 over Corsican mountains - and the day had been hard. We had woke up too late and sun was already shining high when we started our hike uphill from Calenzana through maquis, thick and thorny mix of bushes. There was no shadow and no water sources. We had to carry our daily water with us, three litres both, but it wasn’t enough under scorching mountain sun and we climbed last hours without any drink.

    When we after seven hours climbing got to refuge d’Ortu di u Piobbu we were dead tired. We weren’t only ones. People were laying still on the ground with arms and legs apart, rucksacks still on their backs. It felt like we were entering Sleeping Beauty's castle grounds, and everybody around us were hit by enchantment and snoring for one hundred years.

    My son limped with stiff legs to the source, filled his camelbak and drank three more litres straight before uttering one word. We got cumbersomely our tent up and fell soon asleep inside. In twilight I woke up to continuous steps and heavy breathing outside on my side of the tent. On my son’s side somebody was repeatedly poking the fabric from outside. I asked them to go away, we tried to sleep. Thank you for understanding and goodbye. I got laughing back as an answer. Irritated, I opened the zipper and got out, ready to drive away intruders from our territory.

    And there they were, my intruders. Not human beings, but horses. With their help the guardian of the refuge transports food supplies up and down steep mountain slopes from some distant village to the refuge. What I thought laughing was neighing.

    I apologized the horses for us intruding their territory. For setting the tent distastefully up in the middle of their dinner table.
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