Northern Sardinia: Garibaldi, Maddalena & Magical Moments

I know that traditionally Sardinian people are reputed to be small in size but the last two shower cubicles have been ridiculous, like they’ve been made with figures from a Lowry painting in mind. Once in, you move around at your peril: the slightest movement will make physical contact with either the glass cubicle (dangerous) or the shower controls, the consequence of which might be a scalded bum cheek, a frozen scalp or an abrupt end to the water flow. Any of these are possible. It’s a relief to come through it unscathed.

Anyway, back to La Maddalena, the island across the strait from the town of Palau which looks so lovely from afar and doesn’t disappoint in the flesh. Our brief visit on the boat trip whetted our appetite enough for us to return twice; once as foot passengers on the ferry to investigate the island’s eponymous town further, then with the car to explore the rest of this little gem of an island.

Out of the town and on to the road which circles the island, the scenery is immediately spectacular, rocks sculpted by erosion into other worldly smooth shapes forming a boundary between the blue sea and the green hills. The exciting roadway sweeps from high on the clifftop to down beside the waves, every mile another delight, every turn another chance to pause and soak in the view.

We sit on stools at the shelf, tonic water our only drink on this, a road trip day. The beautiful rocky coastline below is caressed by the surf which forms brilliant white margins to the deep blue, the heady scent of pines baking in the sun drifts through the air from below, carried upwards on the warm wind which buffs our faces. Across the stunning blue sea the other islands of the archipelago bathe in sunshine, while further, beyond them all, white cliiffs on the coast of Corsica are clearly visible. Boats with crystal wakes cut through the waves in silence, too distant to hear, close enough to see. The soulful music in the cafe captures our mood perfectly: The Two Of Us, Bein’ With You, Lovely Day. We smile, aware that this is one of those special moments, a reminder of just how much we love this life of travel, and how lucky we are to have it. Timeless. Priceless. 

La Maddalena the town has an unmistakable island feel, like a Greek chora, while the island as a whole is full of beautiful scenery and spectacular coastline. It is in fact so special that no less a figure than the mighty Garibaldi made his home here at the northern tip of a neighbouring island joined by a causeway to Maddalena. The Garibaldi house is now open to the public, a kind of a mixture of how the farm was once run, an ethnographical museum, and a eulogistic tribute to the unifier of the Italian nation, all rolled into one. Throughout the museum, Garibaldi is consistently referred to as “The Hero” (their capitals) rather than by name.

Something of a health and hygiene freak, the great man was to see out his time here in this unpolluted healthy air, eating and drinking almost exclusively produce grown or reared on the premises. The house remained in the family’s hands until the last Garibaldi, his youngest daughter, died in 1959. It’s still absolutely possible to feel the peace and tranquility here which gave The Hero such comfort as his health deteriorated; he breathed his last breath propped up in bed here, looking out at the sea.

Garibaldi statue and around his home

We leave Palau now to head further along the coast, pleased to have explored La Maddalena, Garibaldi was certainly no fool to make it his final resting place. En route to our next base at Castelsardo, and not for the first time this week, we have the opportunity to detour and explore, finding the good (the delightful cove which is Conca Verde), and the bad (ersatz holiday villages like Portobello and the dreadfully named Costa Paradiso, all new build luxury and zero authenticity). And then there’s Isola Rossa, a perfect little beach town in a cute cove, though you have to turn a blind eye to its newer less attractive other half on the way down.

On from lunch at Isola Rossa we go, westwards along Sardinia’s northern coast to yet another pleasing little coastal town which has streets open to two way traffic which are some of the steepest and narrowest we’ve ever seen. On top of this town which seems to rise almost vertically from the sea is the magnificently placed castle which gives the town its name. Actually, it’s given the town its previous names too, each incarnation reflecting whichever power held control at the time: originally Castelgenoese, then Castelaragonese, now Castelsardo.

A town which rises as steeply as this one will provide superb views, and Castelsardo definitely does, especially from up in the castle, down to the quaint harbour, across the deep blue Mediterranean and inland across the green hills and valleys. The aptly named Sunset View Bar, just below the castle walls, is the place to be as the golden hour approaches. Two consistencies of this tour of Sardinia have been pretty towns and terrific seafood and throughout our two-day stay here Castelsardo absolutely delivers on both fronts.

The end of our time on Sardinia is approaching, we will soon be moving on. From Castelsardo we return to Alghero to say goodbye to the rental car and retrace our steps from a couple of weeks back, through the old town and along the waterfront. In between Castelsardo and Alghero we venture into the island’s northernmost peninsula towards the town of Stintino, only to find that this is the corner where Sardinia hides its industrial quarter: an ugly run of refineries, factories and power generation plants dominate the landscape – landscape which is itself hidden beneath a plethora of wind turbines and solar panels.

Back here again in Alghero, we spend one more night fighting to find a free table in the town’s restaurants. It’s certainly less busy than it was two weeks ago, but we still receive plenty of shakes of the head before we finally find one which isn’t fully booked.

From Alghero it’s a picturesque and stress free bus journey of two and a half hours back along the northern coast to the attractively named Santa Teresa Gallura, perched above the ferry port which will be our point of departure from Sardinia. We have a couple of nights here before the Moby ferry takes us from Italian territory to French as we make the crossing to Corsica. Slowly but surely we’re inching towards Mostar, though there’s still plenty of stops between here and there.

The first weekend of September. The sun has lost much of its intensity – we’re talking 29-30 now rather than upper 30s – and the island winds remain stubborn. Soon the days will begin to shorten noticeably as high season moves firmly into shoulder, soon we will wonder whether a T-shirt is enough in the evening breeze. But for now the skies remain beautifully clear, the sea fabulously blue and perfectly inviting. We are yet to see rain on this entire journey, not even one of those renowned Mediterranean storms.

Our first evening in our last Sardinian base, out in the warm air in the private courtyard behind the apartment. Soulful music is drifting up from a bar in town – Carole King, Four Tops, Harold Melvin, then some contemporary covers of old classics. Tonight the air is still, the winds taking a break, the peace of the moment enhanced, not stained, by the music which takes me almost trance like into my own little nirvana moment. I am feeling incredibly chilled, so peaceful.

“Phil, you getting in the shower or what? You’ll have it dark soon if you don’t get a move on”.

“Coming babe”.