The wind was howling and it felt like a day for a road trip rather than being outside too much. I did walk down to the beach and it was atmospheric, dark clouds speeding past overhead and the light all gothic and gloomy. I took far too many photos. But maybe like monkeys and typewriters one or two will be worthy.
Our plan was to do a circuit of the local noteworthy towns within an easy drive of our base in Cannigione. So that included Sant’Antonio di Gallura, Calangianus, Tempio Pausania, Aggius and Luogosanto. In all just over 2hrs driving.
There was a road that went over the mountain from the apartment via the outskirts of Arzachena and so we took that, just to see what it was like, but fearing a small and winding to-be-avoided-again experience. It was fine.
Soon we spotted signs for the Tomba dei Giganti de Coddu Veccju. I had been reading about the myths related to giants and so was keen to stop and see what all the fuss was about. To see more – here’s an interesting short video https://youtu.be/SMGCiuUABUY
We bought tickets for this and a well preserved Nuraghic ruin site called Nuraghe La Prisgiona. Fascinating.
Were giant skeletons discovered in Sardinia and then they mysteriously vanished? Are the many statues that have been found true to life and do they represent a super race or visitors from another planet? Heather is understandably a sceptic.
We pressed on to Sant’Antonio di Gallura. I parked, badly, scraping the front plastic thingy under the bonnet. No real harm done. I stepped inside the tourist information office and was held captive by the enthusiastic man who clearly hadn’t had another visitor for days if not weeks. After twenty minutes Heather came to find me and we both were shown the clothing that had been found on bodies excavated in the renovation of the church and also the giant crocheted blankets recently crafted by the villagers to celebrate…something.
But where are the windswept rocks in the small archeological garden in the centre of the town I wanted to know? He seemed nonplussed and gave us directions to a 14km hike, which can be shortened by parking mid way. Archeology? He had loads, and we came away with a leaflet listing more giants burials grounds, more Nuraghi ruins and a pack of Dolmens. We escaped clutching sheafs of information, and during a brief drive around the centre we eventually glimpsed the windswept rocks. Well one anyway. No wonder he didn’t admit to them/it, even though they/it were/was directly behind the info centre.
I negotiated the self service petrol station flawlessly to my great surprise, even managing to get a receipt to admiring glances from the locals. €1.88 per litre. Daylight robbery. Luckily the Kia is so underpowered it doesn’t use much fuel, and once you get used to the lurch of the gear change and the 10km/hour top speed of anything greater than a 2% incline, it has been fine.
Next stop Calagianus, home of the manufacturing of cork. Lots of manufacturing, mostly outside the town centre. We drove in and out of the centre but weren’t captivated enough to stop. Or take a photo.
Should we do Dolmens or stick to our original plan? Now was the tipping point. We postponed Dolmens and went to Tempio Pausania. On spotting the sign for Lidl, we went there slightly tortuously and bought the essential washing up liquid, some sponges, and some wine. And the ingredients for a few meals as well. And spent less than half we had been spending at the local Spar for the same sort of shopping.
It was bitterly cold in the biting wind when we eventually parked up in the centre and had been advised by the guide book to search out the centre where some tall balconied buildings redeemed the otherwise industrial look of the town. It wasn’t overrun with restaurants however and when we enquired at the closed door of the pizza restaurant, we were informed that we wouldn’t find pizza anywhere in the town for lunch. Shame on you.
We got driven indoors by the cold, taking a small table for two inside the little Vineria L’Amore Perduto. At first we thought the love lost was the proprietors’ for his business but he eventually thawed and his daughter looked after our wine and beer requirements. There was a short choice of lunch items but my Tagliatelle Ragu and Heather’s smoked salmon and cream sauce pasta with grooved tubed pasta closed at one end was acceptable if rich.
A small dog sheltering from the cold got trodden on and yelped but didn’t bite the protagonist. Well not noticeably.
We paid up and legged it back to the car. The proprietor even smiled when I complimented him on his cuisine, but perhaps it was wind.
Onwards. Aggius this time. All I remember is rocks in the background. Granite rocks. And probably highly radioactive if I remember the Koeburg PR campaign André Van Heerden ran in the early days of the Nuclear Power Station. What Eskom and SA would give for another few nuclear power stations now….
Heather understandably resisted the temptation to get out the car, as it was still very cold with the wind chill. We drove around twice. Nice enough but not compelling. And we couldn’t feel the warmth of the radiation.
Next stop Luogosanto. The tourist info man had suggested this would be another good place to visit, omitting to mention any of the other places we had been so far, and so it proved to be. Very charming. We stopped, I walked around. And took the only other photos other than the archeological sites of the day. Too many of course. Apparently this place is on a Camino walk – there seemed to be loads of churches in the area.
We saw cork trees – forests of them, with their long trousers turned into shorts by the whittling away of the lower bark. They take around 35 years to become harvestable and productive, so it’s an investment most would make to benefit their children rather than themselves. I had never seen cork trees in the wild and they are allegedly very difficult to grow, so I came away with a new found respect for the humble cork and understood why we hadn’t seen a single screw top bottle of wine on our trip so far. I’m taking the corks back home – there’s a glass to fill.
We wended our way back, cutting through Arzachena more by accident than design and stopping at the once more closed Spar to get the olive oil I had forgotten to buy at Lidl, which will now have to wait until tomorrow.
A highly satisfactory day with a few average stops studded with several stand out spots. I made the rest of the pasta and mixed it with the left over Arrabiata sauce and some fresh ragu and contemplated how I would soon be looking like the speciality pasta of the region – a large round parcel thinnish at both ends but bursting in the middle.
I tried the local liqueur before bed – Mirto. I think it is made from Myrtle berries which are found in profusion in the Maquis. The local equivalent of fynbos. Not bad – it is sweet with a minerally undertone. It might grow on me.
The Lawsons on the Loose 