Hermione Does Sardinia

Standing in a car park in Santa Teresa Di Gallura on an April afternoon listening to Mrs K laughing like a drain signaled to me that we were back to our exploration of the Mediterranean. As we approached the cars Mrs K had pointed out that there was an identical Renault Clio to the one we had hired from the airport and 'was I sure that the one we were heading for was the one we hired?' I was in the police for thirty years I could identify the finer parts of cars. I wasn't just fooled by the colour and above all I had parked the bloody thing. In triumphant gesture I pressed the unlock button on the fob as I approached my chosen Clio. The lights didn't flash  but there was a reassuring but undermining plimp plomp from behind me. This was the moment I felt we were back!

Mrs K calmed down after a while and we continued our week of readying the boat and showing Granddad the finer points of Northern Sardinia. I had been concerned that Granddad might struggle with a week living on board the boat getting on and off our precarious plank, the one he had liberated from a skip four years ago. I needn't have worried, despite being eighty years old and with only his left eye having full mobility he was remarkably nimble. Each morning we lay in bed as he jumped up made the tea, ate a banana and left for a morning constitutional. Each morning as he clumped along the deck to the plank we held our breath as there was a pause as he reached the plank. Each morning there was an anticipation of a crash and a splash but no, each morning he made it.

Certain jobs take some building up to and one on my list was bleeding the fuel system on the engine. Diesel has to be clean and filters have to be replaced each year but, as yet, the engineering community have failed to make this simple. Taking a filter off, despite plastic bags and tips about draining water separators beforehand, will always result in diesel bloody everywhere. Of course on my boat all filters are on the 'not accessible' side of the engine. The difficulty is made worse because it involves being in a space that prevents turning or unfolding limbs for longer than old bones can tolerate. Spanners become unreachable, necessary bits are left in the cabin and much swearing ensues.

However this time I was determined to get it right, make it easier than normal, efficiently speed up the process. Granddad had his tea and banana and left for bird watching duties without a hitch. I was up and breakfasted Mrs K and myself. Everything was cleared away and I laid out all the necessary tools and parts in the order they were needed strategically placed in the kitchen area. I was so confident I had even included the replacement impeller on the list. I was just warming up my old limbs to avoid the inevitable cramp when Granddad returned. 

"Do you know what? I could really eat some toast this morning!"

After a reasonably successful, if not slightly 'toast' delayed, maintenance session the engine started, water pumped around it and out of the hole it should. Marvelous! 

Having spent October in Santa Teresa we were not sure that we would have much to do in the week we had Granddad on board but Sardinia in Spring is quite a different place. Walks around the Nuraghe settlement amongst the many lovely flowers, trees, rocks and wildlife was surprisingly pleasant.

We didn't make any references to this being where the villagers buried their old.

The flowers were quite unexpected in their colours and numbers. Reds, yellows, purples, well that exhausted my flower identification skills, I believe some were called Orchids but I think I missed this biology class all those years ago. 

We even saw a turtle lying in some water but Granddad didn't have his hearing aid in and explained that tortoises don't live in water so it was probably a terrapin or a turtle.

Next stop was Capo Testa and this time we managed to find the old Roman quarry near to the beach. This apparently being the lost Town of Tibula. Judging by the number of chipping marks doing anything with granite looks like bloody hard work.

I couldn't quite understand how after such hard work this column and the others were left lying around. You got the impression that some poor old Roman stone mason was happily chipping away when he was approached by a centurion who said something like.' Haven't you heard mate? We are all leaving. Masons got laid off yesterday. Leave it there so that future generations of tubby tourists can pose for photos on it.' Come on Caesar needs you at a place called Londinium apparently the sewers are shocking.

With Granddad being eighty we thought we would drive him to Castelsardo which is a castle on a hill and test out his hill climbing qualities. And what a steep hill it was. Nevertheless he made it and had a lovely tour round the inside which is dedicated to basket weaving. Apparently not attacked enough this castle. My pre tour research about the Doria's and Charles V unearthed the one fact that

interested Granddad which was that Eleanor of Arboria despite being a diplomat, warrior, respected leader and queen of Sardinia for many years was the first person to create a law protecting wild birds. We found a heroin for Granddad!

On Granddads last day we decided to visit the Island of Caprera. Part of the Maddelena archipelago. Of particular interest as it was the home of Giuseppi Garibaldi the famous Italian General credited with unifying Italy, well almost, in the 18 somethings. 

As we approached Palau town centre to get the ferry across to the islands we were stopped by a man wearing a reflective jacket who asked if we wanted to get the ferry. We dutifully said yes and he waved us over to a parking slot next to a ticket booth. Now I haven't been married to Mrs K for twenty four years without spotting when she smells a rat. We approached the ticket man who quoted 53 Euros for the car and three passengers. Mrs K was having none of it and she said we would think about it. I have had many a request thwarted with this phrase. 

A quick trip round the corner to the official booth in the centre for booths revealed the true cost to be 43 euros. Anyway a quick, disorganised, loading of people and cars and a short ferry ride with an equally disorganised disembarkation put us on to Maddelena. It was then a short drive across the causeway to Caprera and the home of the great General. I am not sure what it is but someone's home seems to be a measure of them and this humble residence, exquisitely preserved, was clearly a reflection of why this guy was generally regarded as great. A fantastic spot with lovely views where he indulged his love of plants and wilderness.

The tree he planted to celebrate the birth of his daughter.

He retired here and died here. He even had a small sail boat to sail over to Maddelena when he needed a few stores. What more could you want?

Granddad was eying up this set up. He wasn't allowed to try it out.

The week went quickly and we deposited Granddad at Olbia airport for his return home. We then battled the Italian bus service back to Santa Teresa to begin our 2018 voyage.