Our second night, we tested the barbecue grill with brickettes from the closest "Super U," dried brush from the ground to get the brickettes started and marinated chicken thighs (lemon, olive oil, salt, pepper).

East of Ile Rousse, the beach was a coarse sand very much like sesame seeds that didn't stick. The water was warm, calm and the color of aqua glass. Parking was close to the beach and there was a lovely little restaurant that served a big salad with large fresh-cooked shrimp. I had dreams about that salad and couldn't wait to go back for a second round.

West of Ile Rousse, we discovered a beach accessible by a long narrow dirt path, bordered by rock formations, with finer grained sand and lots of nudists. The water was even clearer, cleaner and greener.

One day we drove from Ile Rousse to St. Florent across the Agriates Desert. Let me restate that: I drove while my friend held on for dear life, leaving her knuckles white and her life flashing before her eyes while the girls snoozed or played "Tetrus" in the back seat. The road is winding on the edge of an unprotected cliff, although smooth and not dangerously narrow. I loved every moment pretending I was Mario Andretti. St. Florent was a beautiful city, but the beach there was not our favorite. Time and again we found the beaches in the towns to be more spoiled, more polluted, more teeming with debris.

Dale continued on to Bastia on her own while the four of us lizards baked in the sun. When she returned late that day to retrieve us, she reported the road was "treacherous," but she lived to tell the tale and raved about Bastia's beauty.

The clarity and purity of the water encourages a wide variety of sea life. It's a bird-watcher's paradise as exceptionally rare birds are found here. Grottos abound along the coast and cruisers and yachts are moored while their passengers swim or float on rafts nearby. I had found a seat at the very bow of our ship and it was all I could do to keep myself from jumping into the cool green water for a swim at Scandola. Would they have hoisted me back in?

Corsica is a perfect blend of France and Italy. The architecture is simpler in style as in Italy, but isn't quite as "laisser faire." The cuisine is a blend of traditional French and pastas and we found the restaurants to serve a good quality for very reasonable prices, about 25% less expensive than dining in Paris.

The tourists of Corsica were mostly French and Italian, some Germans and some British, but we never ran into another American. I suppose that's why so many of my American friends ask "where's Corsica?!"

Leaving this beautiful island was a sad day for all of us, when we realized our dream vacation had come to an end and we had no idea when we'd be able to return. Before boarding the ferry, we climbed to the top of the Citadel for a last view and spotted a black yacht with a tall black sail gliding along the water. It stood out against the landscape of the blue sea and the other boats in the harbor (naturally white) like a falcon against a Montana sky.