You can’t understand Sardinian speed limits. You can only ignore them. On the long drive back south to the last stop on our two-week, 1,850 kilometre journey, this becomes almost painfully clear once again.
Sardinian speed limits are Dadaism in its purest form: completely devoid of meaning. A higher power has shat them directly into the brains of the legislature from a great height. There was a storm cell in between. The poo froze in it. Unfortunately, its now harder consistency caused irreparable damage to the danger centre of the Sardinian legislature’s brain on impact. (more…)
The lords of Galtelli Castle & good old friends in La Caletta
Relief from the loss of all 18 years of travel stories only comes the next morning. After a night with almost no sleep, I am infinitely groggy. But also full of hope when my good hoster Vautron writes that they were able to restore my 750 travelogues from several incremental database backups and also fix any database errors.
Without checking, we set off for the next destination on our journey. Galtelli is located in the mountainous hinterland near the famous Cala Gonone in the east. The time-honoured village is fast asleep. Like so many others before us, check-in is completely online. Our accommodation for the next few days is a real castle, the Castello Malicas. Directly in front of the castle is an ancient rock tomb, surrounded by the large green municipal park and behind it the 806 metre high rocky Monte Tuttavista. (more…)
I’m off then…
Spoiler: this travelogue has absolutely nothing to do with Hape Kerkeling, the Way of St James or self-discovery. But a hell of a lot to do with self-definition.
The colourful medieval houses of Bosa are enchanting without any official bans on the use of toilet stone colours. Even blind Italians probably have more reliable good taste when it comes to choosing the colours of their houses than Germans do when it comes to shoes in general.
Castelsardo, which is on the way, has changed a lot since my last visit a few years ago. The little girl’s comment on the oil-on-wood works in the castle’s “art museum” is enchantingly short and to the point: “bäh”. (more…)
Sardinia’s wild west
The journey continues northwards across Sardinia’s wild west. In the Iglesias region, over 2,000 years of mining history have transformed the landscape into a Swiss cheese. Similar to the Ruhr region, history is only just beginning to be converted into new jobs.
We visit the Nebida mine beneath rust-brown mountain slopes. We then continue on to Porto Flavia, an impressive piece of mining under Belgian management from the late 1920’s. Our Smurf enthusiastically trolls with us through deep, dark tunnels. The Galeria Henri in Buggeru is unfortunately closed. (more…)
Sant’Antioco, Chia & Punta Trettu
It’s been far too many years since we both last visited Sardinia. We know the north well. This time we are focussing on the south. From Cagliari airport, it’s an hour’s 80 km drive by hire car to the small island of Sant’Antioco in the south-west. Our accommodation is located right at the highest point of the beautiful old town next to the basilica. Flamingos dine in the surrounding lagoons at sunset.
Even after Easter, Sardinia is anything but awake. Everything is empty, stress-free and cosy. 25 to 30° is much more pleasant than the constant 13° of rain I experienced on my last visit at the same time of year. You can still kite on almost every beach that is closed from June at the latest and wild camping is still a mass sport. (more…)
And I could walk 5000 years!
The day before yesterday, the Sardinian wind showed its teeth for the first time on the west coast in the UNESCO World Heritage Site of the millennia-old mines of Sulcis Iglesiente. It was blowing full offshore at 15 to 30 knots, gusting west of Iglesias over the old silver mountains and steep cliffs with mine ruins reaching down to the water. My breakfast baguette flies for a swim.
The coastal road to the north leads over breathtaking rollercoasters on steep slopes through old mining towns such as Nébida. The stub roads into the mines above Buggeru are completely unsecured and therefore offer sweeping views. On the motorway, the Sardinians really do slow down every farting hobo at 30 km/h – but if you need a jeep and blinkers to get up a mountain, there’s definitely nothing at the bottom. (more…)
Emmental in Sardinian
The driving style of a people reveals a lot about their soul. This is particularly true for Filipinos in Manila, Dominicans on Saturday nights and Vietnamese on the way to funerals. And for Sardinians in general. The wildest mountain roads are relatively discreetly regulated. But as soon as they are wide, safe and well-built, the state slows you down to half of what would be normal in Germany. 50 kilometres at 50 km/h is the whip for the Sardinians!
Their speeding seems to be the last cry against foreign rule. If you are driving legally in Sardinia, all your attention should be focussed on the rear-view mirror. 25% above the speed limit is the absolute minimum in order not to be constantly chased. 50% over the speed limit is the standard, even for pensioners. Speeding is defined by the Sarde at least 75% over the limit. (more…)
Sardinia sleeps
Like a vulture, I circle ever closer in my Panda in search of my first accommodation in Sardinia. Missing addresses are not a problem. They only become a problem when you can’t find anyone to ask for directions. Everything is closed, the streets completely empty, the houses barricaded.
Even today, few Italians speak English, but they understand my Spanish – and I understand their Italian answers, at least well enough to realise that each answer points in the opposite direction to the previous one. Sardinia is still in deepest hibernation. I am the universal soloist when it comes to eating, driving, walking and travelling. It’s cold and raining, but I feel good. (more…)
The Author
Frank Woelky, born in 1973. Kitesurfer since 1998. Since 2006, I have been combining kitesurfing and web design on trips lasting several months off the beaten track.