A glass of wine at the end of the path.

We cross the sea, and we are already aware, looking at the island that becomes clearer, of the beauty that awaits us. We are not alone on this sea, a seagull takes a ride, grumpy and haughty on the keel of the ferry. The houses of the port color the waterfront like the boats, large or small, light blue or red behind the dark green lighthouse, the only shade absent in this corner of the Mediterranean. Inside a narrow passage opens the staircase that climbs between the natural terraces of the rocky ridge. The summer sun exonerates the essences of the maquis, the sages, the mastic trees, the pines, the mint. Inevitable stops to locate the sisters of the archipelago, their shores, the lighthouses with the windows dazzled by the light. Areas with megalithic boulders allow a glimpse of ancient caverns, inhabited by the blades of cacti and prickly pears. The Campese tower greets the arrival and bubbling is also the time for lunch and a glass of golden wine. The return again climbs sheer over the coves and into the celestial sea.