In which Sid and Doris do purist riding to seek out Neolithic era buildings and a hotel up an overly beaten track.
From Palau we were going to the very north of Sardinia at Santa Teresa Gallura before turning West, South West toward Porto Torres. So as not to use the same road twice which Doris hates, Doris plotted a route using white roads around the top of the town. These proved to be beyond distressed. Worse they were steep, after a sign that promised 1:10 which we know we can cycle, we rapidly ground to a halt and had to do some Walking With Bikes, so a slow start.
Once we got down to the pleasure marina we could see how successful the plan to posh up Costa Smeralda had been. We sat having crepes admiring the elegant motor yachts in the harbour and playing a new variant on “That’s my house”, called “that’s my boat”. As we wandered happily around Doris said “I feel a sudden urge to own a boat which requires a lot of varnishing”, and Sid, ever the romantic, replied “Yes, there are some pretty boats here but there are some real pondliners too”.
The good news is that we did not cover the same roads around the marina because we followed the petit train touristique out to the road. Phew, no road used twice (though the rule would soon be broken).
Yesterday we had told ourselves off for not following signs to items of archeological import so today planned to go see Neolithic nargules (towers of stone) at Aglientu. It was a hot day, high 30s centigrade. We followed the signs. The site was a bit further, around a corner, over a small hill, across a gravelly junction, down a dusty earth track, through a farm yard, up another hill. There was a rough car park for 50 cars and no cars.
We were not worried about opportunistic thieves as we left the bikes to push through the maquis and climbed up to see the special stones that we were forbidden to approach.
We had a jolly good look from inside and on top. There was no interpretation board. This is not worth the voyage, no matter where you started from. We reversed the route down the hill, round the farm yard, down the dusty track….
We needed water and rations and had fixed on the nearby ENI petrol station. We were a bit dismayed to find only pumps with credit card payment systems. Fortunately we found a tap and water. We ate a bar and bashed on to our hotel. It was a bit further, around a corner, over a large hill and as All The Young Dudes sang ‘Now its a mighty long way down a dusty trail, and the sun burns hot … ‘ The hotel is on a hill across a small valley with a descent and ascent that even Peter Sagan would struggle with. In fact, anything short of a 4×4 would have struggle, but we can see the pool and smell the dinner so we manage. And tomorrow we will have to reverse the route.
We leave you with a picture of the hotel cat illustrating how hot it was, and Sid illustrating how picturesque it was once we finally got to the pool.
