I’m recovering from another night on the ferry, this time from Olbia to Livorno, or Leghorn as we choose to call it (why?). I barely slept and feel a bit like Mr Bean on his cinema trip when he props his eyes open with his fingers, much to the surprise of his poor girlfriend, who turns to look at him. Don’t tell me you don’t know it!? The combination of uncomfortable chairs, bright lights, cheesy feet and snoring did little to send me to sleep, so I sat there, reading my book and observing how curious it was that total strangers were so relaxed in sleep, that they almost ended up in each other’s laps!
We have now parked in a delightful small town called Suvereto , in the southern Tuscan area known as the Maremma. We have water, we have waste facilities, who could want for more?! Suvereto itself is a pretty mediaeval town where one could easily spend several days or even retire to, with its friendly people and wonderful views over hills and vineyards towards the sea. It has several restaurants and wine shops, so I suspect it has a lot of tourists in the summer but in mid October it looks as if we are the only ‘stranieri’.
But I’m getting ahead of myself….. after we left Sofia and Carlo (laden with pomegranates, as you’ll recall), we decided to head up the eastern coast of Sardinia and soon found that the SS 125 is the road to take. It snakes its way right up to the north coast, some 400 km away, past beaches, through mountain passes, a road with views. As you drive along, you realise how southerly Sardinia is, driving past the masses of prickly pears and admiring the bougainvillea and hibiscus flowering in the gardens. It’s on a level with much of southern Italy and is not that far from the North African coast.
Mind you driving along, one soon appreciates the benefits of driving a campervan akin to a small truck. Indeed ‘Bigger, fatter,’ has become my mantra, which I mutter under my breath, as we lumber through small towns and cars threaten to pull out in front of us or as we round a bend and something is approaching on our side of the road. Unfortunately ‘Bigger, fatter’ does not work when confronted by a bus or rubbish lorry……
Driving in a small car, one becomes even more aware of the extremes of Italian driving which range from massively aggressive to meandering around over two carriageways at some ridiculously low speed. I stagger from said small car feeling shaken not stirred, a bit like a Bond Martini.
Where were we, ah yes, going up the 125 and spending our first night up in the mountains north of Cagliari (that’s pronounced Calyary in case you’re wondering). We woke, surrounded by mushroom hunters, armed with their little raffia baskets wending their way up the various hillside footpaths. I don’t know who was more surprised to see whom!
It was pretty grotty next day, that’s to say, it poured all day, which was tedious but hey ho, good to know that Sardinia gets wet too and isn’t always idyllically sunny. We made our way up to a little spot called Marina di Tertenia, where we parked in a camperstop right next to the beach and squeezed in a walk between heavy rain showers.
The next day started far better: after a stop and a shop, we found ourselves in Lido di Orri, again right next to the beach, which we had to ourselves for all of a night! It’s very hard when you find a completely isolated spot not to be incredibly resentful when someone else arrives. It makes me feel like pulling horrible faces or making strange jabbering noises, anything to send them away. But of course I don’t, I’m far too British and polite for that, tempting though it is; so they don’t go, and I have to pretend not to mind and be friendly! Sometimes, they are actually quite nice!
We were lucky though at Orri and the beach was still all ours as we swam at 9 the following morning. It was a lovely spot. We met some friendly, interested and interesting Austrians and Swiss ( who told us about the half term) and no, I wasn’t pretending to be friendly, particularly since they were on foot.
Then on we went through some spectacular mountain scenery (mutters ‘Bigger, fatter’ to self on tight bends) to Cala Gonone, a small town on the east coast, previously accessible only by boat but now reached via a tunnel and a series of hairpin bends. After convincing myself that Cala Gonone was a small resort and not a bosomy Italian opera singer, I enjoyed the resort. We stayed on a small, rather ramshackle campsite (redeemed by its hot showers) and it was here, that my encounter with mosquitoes began. This unfortunately lasted for several days up the north east coast and if I’m honest, rather put me off it! Well, when one’s legs look like polka dots from all the bites, the places do rather lose their appeal. Which was the cartoon cat who talked about ‘Those meeces to peeces’ ? Well my legs were in peeces……..they are only just recovering!
So from Cala Gonone we went on via a rather grotty beach, plagued by mosquitoes near Posada, where someone else turned up at dusk (grrrr!) to the Costa Smeralda. It’s a place I’ve always wanted to visit, since the days of the Aga Khan in the 60s and 70s, when it was one of THE places to be for the Jet Set. 40 years later, I caught up…..maybe I took the slow train…..
The coastline is truly spectacular and the water is clear and greeny/blue. A fabulous place………BUT…….I found the weather more inclement and of course the ruddy mosquitoes were around! We did stay on a very nice campsite and discovered that it was where many of the Swiss were camped .
Our neighbours on site were Swiss Germans and I found it strangely refreshing to discover that not all Swiss are bankers and/or boring. Our own, perfectly pleasant neighbours, sported large tattoos and had a love of loud country music, complete with yodelling…..well maybe bankers are tattooed and yodel, I don’t know…….. Meanwhile the Germans formed an enclave of their own on a little beach. I’ve noticed they tend to do this quite frequently. Not like the Brits who tend to shudder when they see their own countrymen and women.
So after completing the northern circuit, we turned back south to head towards Olbia and the ferry. The rather blustery weather turned warmer and sunnier. We boarded the ferry, once again surrounded by Swiss, children and dogs and I entertained myself by reading the safety notice. This solemnly informed you, that if you saw someone fall overboard, you had to shout ‘Man overboard to the right!’ ‘ Man overboard to the left’ in Italian! So I was left pondering, would you rush inside saying ‘Hang on a minute I can’t remember what the right words are? Where’s the notice board, what do I have to say?!’ rather than shout anything at all?!! Highly amusing and thank goodness I didn’t have to know the answer.
Which brings me dear friends to where I started, back at Suvereto and pressing on into Umbria.
More anon……