Like most places in coastal Corsica, there's a beach. No aggressive cows here, but there was a large herd of goats to navigate by on the winding road from Piana. And - unusual in our experience on Corsica - there were other people on the beach. Nine of them, to be precise (I counted). One of the 16th-century anti-pirate guard towers dominates a rock outcrop in the background.
A main attraction in the area is the Calanches, a range of jagged red mountains eroded into fantastical shapes. We climbed way up into the alpine, seeing only one other person - a Corsican hunter who pointed out the best trails, speaking in Corsu, which is a surprisingly understandable medieval form of Italian with some French thrown in. We did a bit of scrambling up some small peaks, where the eroded stone made ridiculously easy hand- and foot-holds. I sat on top of one outcrop and drew the rock formations, one of which looked either like a French aristocrat or mating cows, depending on your point-of-view.