FROM MAMOIADA TO PELOSETTA BEACH
The road winds ahead as if taken directly out of the pages of some old Moto magazine. Hung on the edge of a verdant cliff, it snakes its way forward, barely clutching the rock beneath. A deep turquoise Mediterranean on my left is a constant disruption, threatening to throw the distracted rider into its cold abyss. This is the kind of road we came here for. Give me the helpline of the Oxford Dictionary – I have found the definition of “perfect!”
Back in Mamoiada
We wake up that morning in our Mamoiada B&B. From our vantage point above town, we enjoy a cup of coffee as we scan the rolling green hills around us. The sky is pitch-perfect, and the weather is just right for a ride. A cool 20-ish with a light and pleasant breeze. We finish our coffee and head down to our motorcycles. I’m pleased to note that – as expected – the inflammation in my left leg has somewhat receded during the night. I can now thread on it a little harder. Equipped with this encouraging realization, I power up the Kawasaki and let its engine warm up while I squeeze my hands inside the riding gloves and put on my Arai helmet.
The plan
Today, we will ride to Alghero on the northwestern edge of Sardinia. As the town itself is nothing to write home about, we will instead stay just north of it at the very unique Rifugio Di Mare. To get there, we will ride out of Mamoiada on the SS389 North and take the 1st exit to Orani, where we will head west on the SP39. We will get off the road when it meets the SS131 west to Ottana. Once in Ottana, we will turn right on SP17 and continue to Bardosu, where we will turn left and head west on the SS129 until a coffee stop at Birori.
There, and given time and ride conditions, we might detour south on the main (and only) highway of Sardinia leading to the SP65 – a twisty road recommended by Michelin – to the town of Bosa. After a nice lunch at Bosa, the plan is to continue north along the coast (another recommended road by Michelin), passing the city of Alghero until we reach our night stop. All in all, 194km of roads of all shapes and sizes.
Has anyone seen my glove?
We hit off town, and just before leaving it behind, we stop for a short refuel. Once back on the road, I feel the soft wind caressing my right palm. A bit too much caressing, I think, as I glance at my arm to reveal I forgot to wear it. Now, we need to head back to the gas station. Luckily, it still awaits me, lying on the concrete surface when we arrive. The road to Birori is uneventful, save for a few navigation errors. We reach town around 10:30am, just in time for a last-minute cappuccino. If only we could find a coffee shop. Birori has none. We stop our bikes at a crossroads to look for an espresso bar on Google Maps. A local geezer stops by to enquire about our whereabouts. He eventually invites us to his home for coffee. We politely decline.
Now, finally, on a decent highway, we let our bikes go as they devour the E25 with voracious speed. I enjoy hearing the twin-cylinder engine roar as it plays catch-up with the 9,000rpm redline. Third gear, fourth gear, fifth gear… an imaginary exclamation mark pops at the back of my head as I zoom past a ridiculously inadequate 80km/h speed limit sign. It’s a law I developed many years ago. Basically, the chance of meeting a police speed trap correlates directly to the gap between the sensible speed given the road condition and the stated speed limit. I pull back the throttle and let the bike naturally slow down to a painfully low pace just in time. Around the band, a frustrated Carabinieri points a laser gun at my Versys. Tourist on a bike – 1. Italian Police – 0!
The rest of the Sardinia tour: * Part I - From inception to Carloforte * Part II - From Carloforte to Mamoiada
Out of the frying pan into the fire
We get off the highway 23km later, turning right onto SP65 and a 50km of twists and turns all the way to the town of Bosa. ViaMichelin promised a road full of scenery. It does not disappoint. With everything in full bloom and surrounded by flowers in all colors of the rainbow, the ride is almost tantric. We reach Santu Lussurgio some 11km later as if awoken from a dream — not remembering exactly what happened since we boarded the SP65 and in dire need of caffeine. Having failed to secure Cappuccino at Mamoiada and Birori in time (it’s almost noon), we settle for an espresso, if we can find one.
I assume riding into the village’s ancient center would be the right thing to do and turn my Versys into one of the alleyways leading downward. A few short minutes is all we need to be reminded of the ancient idiom; ”Assumption is the mother of all f***ups!”. We struggle, and by struggle, I mean mostly me, to navigate through the maze of impossibly narrow and steep alleyways that would make a Mideastern Qasba look like Sunset Boulevard.
Some of the turns are so tight only a dude on a donkey could tackle. We need to disembark our bikes and take turns pulling and aligning the rear wheel of each of our motorcycles. We sweat like hogs, not because it’s hot (it’s not), nor because of the physical maneuvering (we’re both in good shape). It’s the fear. Fear of getting stranded in this claustrophobic labyrinth forever. I take the blame for leading us astray.
Is the espresso that good, or are we just desperate?
When we finally find the way out (through a Sh**-scary, narrow, and steep path, thank you for asking), I let my friend lead and quietly fall behind. We escape town with our tails between our legs and without any caffeine. The road ahead is the SP19 that snakes its way up and down the coastal mountain range for 19km until it arrives at Cuglieri, a small town with a small coffee shop at the entrance and a small available parking spot for two bikes just at the gate. Perfect!
We get to stretch our legs over a nice cup of espresso macchiato and an ice cream stick. The open patio overlooks some large ancient structure which draws tourists. I search Google to see what we’re missing but find no information. Settle for no knowing we plan the road ahead. We’re 22km away from Bosa, where we plan to have lunch. The Italians, so unpunctual in everything they do, are surprisingly very specific when it comes to food. Very few places will offer lunch after 14:00. It’s 12:30, so we have just enough time to swallow the beautiful SS292 all the way to Bosa.
Bosa Nova
This little town of 8,000 Sardinians is the main destination of the day. Bosa is about two-thirds of the way up the west coast of Sardinia, three kilometers inland on the north bank of the Temo River. Unlike the other villages and small towns we passed through on our Sardinia tour, Bosa has an urban character very different from any other place on the island.
With colorful, tall houses cramped together in steep, dark alleyways. The town feels like something out of Tuscany or Liguria. No wonder it found its way (together with Carloforte) into Italy’s top list of most beautiful cities in the country – I Borghi più belli d’Italia. Perched on a small steep hill above town is the thousand-year-old Castello Malaspina, which would have been a nice exercise before lunch had we got the time, inclination, and – in my case – the ability to climb all the way up.
We cross the ancient stone bridge over the river Temo and enter Bosa as the clock hits 13:00. With little time to spare, we park our bikes at the very eastern edge of Bosa’s main street, Viale Giovanni XXIII (there must have been an awful lot of Giovannis before this one) and head down to find a place to eat. The road is lined with slightly dilapidated three-story houses anchored one against the other. Only in Italy can delinquency look so photogenic. Colorful shutters and old grannies just add to the overall feel of (fake?) authenticity.
We decided to pass the Michelin-recommended S’iscugia restaurant and opted instead for the closer and more approachable Locanda di Corte. So happy we did.
A perfectly located Locanda
The Locanda is hidden next to a tiny square and reached through a series of picture-perfect alleyways. Lunch is served in the open square under a makeshift canopy. Thanks to GoogleMaps, we get there pronto and in time for lunch. The Locanda di Corte is owned and managed by the Ibba family. They also run a small hotel next to the restaurant, which we’ll have to discover some other time. The restaurant specializes in local and seasonal cuisine, with all ingredients sourced locally and changed by the day and month. We sit next to a simple black-metal table. The menu offers either a four or a six course tasting menu Selected by Chef Nicola Ibba based on the availability of the day.
We considered the six-course lunch but ultimately decided to curb our enthusiasm and go for the four-course menu. What came next would be the best meal we had during our entire stay in Sardinia. We start with a cold appetizer of calamari salad with seasonal vegetables in ink sauce and citrus zest. It sounds a bit presumptuous for what looks like a relatively simple lunch setup. Nevertheless, what arrives leaves us speechless. It looks as if Picasso decided to paint with food. I’ve never seen such an artisticly set frutti di mare salad. The composition of the pure white calamari base on an onix dark clay plate is mesmerizing. Oh, yeah, I almost forgot; it’s a delight!
Higher and higher
The waiter standing by is quick to clear our empty plates. Shocked, and in a good way, we wait for the first course in anticipation—a Risotto of seafood with shrimp meat. When it arrives, it delivers. The earth-colored clay bawl contains a perfectly made, rich “al dente” arborio portion of rice topped with cold, raw, sweet-water shrimp meat garnished with a fully steamed (and then chilled) crustacean. It tastes as good as it sounds and even better than it looks. We realize that “looks can be deceiving” can work both ways.
The second course is served promptly — these Italians are quite “Germanic” when it comes to food — and does not fail to impress. We devour the seared tuna and baked veggies without leaving a trace, a bit sorry we didn’t have any bread to wipe clean the leftover gravy. A bit full now, we get up to pay the bill before the ever-present waiter reminds us that the desert is on the way. Now, I’m not the person to have dessert for lunch, but having already paid and curious to see what may come next, I take back my seat and wait for course #4.
Out of the dumpster and into the plate
At first, the dish looks like the waiter accidentally dropped it on muddy ground somewhere, picked up whatever was salvageable, and threw it carelessly back on the platter before serving. Of course, reality couldn’t have been more different. It’s a masterpiece! The real shocker comes right at the very end. We look at the check. We look again to make sure we haven’t gotten it wrong. €40 Euros per person. Would someone pinch me, please?!
Alas, every good thing must come to an end. After all, we didn’t travel all the way to Sardinia just to eat. We lift ourselves, heavy but content, and move slowly through the picturesque narrow streets of Bosa back to our bikes. I admit I was a bit worried about leaving our bikes parked at the very end of the Viale Giovanni twenty-something. I was happy to find them where we left them, especially after discovering I failed to properly lock mine. Ouch!
Now, back on the saddle, it’s time to head north. We pass on the same ancient stone bridge, this time in the opposite direction, turn right along the Temo River, and just before hitting the coast, we turn right again to the SP49. “This scenic road traces hairpin bends and has some of the most stunning ocean views on the island,” promises the guidebook.
The scenic route
Reality delivers. The road is stunning. Squeezed between tall cliffs on the right and a vast blue ocean on the left, it reminds me of California’s Route 1. We stop at one of the small parking bays scattered along the way to breathe in the scenery. It’s hard to concentrate on the ride with sroiunded by such beautiful distractions. Still, the road demands attention. Narrow, twisty, and full of blind turns, it is as exhilarating as it is challenging. We carefully pick our viewing stops as they are all on our left, necessitating veering across the oncoming lane. Luckily, traffic is thin. The big “Kahoona” reveals itself just after the 41km mark at the Punta del Canter.
We stop once more. Get off our bikes to impress ourselves with the view and discover a picture-perfect postcard of Sardinia. Ahead, lying between the rocks on a piece of land protruding into the Mediterranean, lies the city of Alghero in all her ancient majesty. In the distance, the jagged cliffs of the Cape of Caccia frame the Gulf of Alghero and its 70km of beaches in splendid composition. We gasp as we scan the horizon. No picture will ever be able to do justice to this landscape. You’ll just have to take my word for it.
Anticlimax
Finally, it’s time to move ahead. We need to be at our night stop before 5 pm. This means we have less than an hour to go through Alghero, ride towards the Cape, find the place, Park the bikes… In short, it’s time to get a move on. We ride through the city of Alghero, which surprisingly doesn’t look much at all. Perhaps we managed to miss all the right spots as we were a bit in a hurry. Or, maybe Alghero is just another town that looks great from afar but is far from looking great once you get closer. Who knows, we may never discover. With the clock ticking, we reach our destination, revealing itself as a small unpaved parking in front of a closed gate. What a letdown.
The sign reads Porto Conte Forest Natural Reserve. There’s no going in. Also, there’s barely enough space to squeeze our two bikes. Afraid the soft ground would not hold the bike’s weight, I find a piece of concrete, pull out the kickstand, and promptly drop the bike on its opposite, right side. A loud crack informs me that the OTHER side case has gone too. Damn! My good friend calls the hotel. They tell us not to worry, as we are in the right place. Since they are located inside the reserve, they can’t allow us with our motorcycles. Instead, they will send a cart to pick us up.
Offroading
A few minutes pass before a long, white golf cart appears on the dirt path ahead. We grab our stuff and board the electric vehicle, which promptly turns around and leads into the brush. The road is long, much longer than we expected. The driver takes his time tackling the tree roots that cris-cross the road, navigating between the scattered rocks and stones, and avoiding (most of) the small puddles on the way.
We take a look at the Mediterranean Bush that surrounds us. It resembles the one we know from back home, only a bit lusher and greener. Here and there, a small clearing reveals a stunning view of Cape Caccia. We’re not fast enough to take a picture. After 15 minutes, more or less, we arrive at a small stone house on top of a hill overlooking what must be the most spectacular view we have yet to witness. We look puzzled as the driver indicates that we should dismount. Surely, this cannot be a hotel.
More motorcycle tours in the links below * The complete survival guide to India motorcycling * On a ride to nowhere * Scouting Malibu on an Indian * 6 essential rules you must know before doing Nepal off-road * You only die twice
Breaking the rules
The Rifugio di Mare in Punta Giglio is an ecotourism lodge that was oppened recently – in 2021. It consists of only seven modular rooms in a stone building of the former World War II SR413 battery (more on that, later on). The refuge is disconnected from the grid and fully self-sufficient. It includes a solar power station, a water recycling facility, and a restaurant that doubles as a museum.
We dropped our cases in room number 7, surprised by the internal design and attention to detail. It’s nothing like the rustic and spartan first impression. I’m quick to release myself of the riding suit and heavy boots and trade them for shorts, long-sleeve shirts, and flip-flops. As my friends head to the nearby Cape Giglio to sap some shots of the setting sun, I grab a book and head to the cantine. Figuring I should give my foot some rest, I ignore the Italian rulebook altogether and order a double Cappuccino. Take that Giorgia Meloni!
Golden hour
Sitting, legs up, outside the cantine during the late afternoon hours, drinking coffee, and reading a book, all I can think about is how tranquil and serene everything is. Over to the east, the white city of Alghero shines as the last rays of sun hit its alabaster buildings. From there, the western coast of Sardinia continues south until it disappears under the horizon.
Closer to the terrace, the white chalk cliffs of the Cape drop sharply into the Gulf of Alghero, framing small rocky beaches secluded from pretty much anyone without a yacht. The sun is now below the horizon, and in a few minutes, the poor light (and cold) makes reading unpleasant. I wrap up the chapter and close the book as my friend appears from the ridge. “It’s time for dinner,” he says. I agree. This has been one very long day, and at 19:00, it finally comes to a perfect end.
No one knows what it’s like to be the bad man
Many people forget that Italy was on the wrong side of World War II. The main building of the Refugio is there to remind them. A work of the Italian Royal Navy, the former coastal battery was built between the two world wars to protect the vital bay of Port Conte and the entrance to the port of Alghero. The military outpost, which at the time housed a crew of 72, was assigned to scan the horizon over the sea for an enemy that did not show up and was not announced.
That was until the night between 31 July and 1 August 1941 when two British destroyers fired a few cannon shots from the dark of the harbor. Later, in 1943, the Wehrmacht (now occupying Italy after the fall of the Fascist Mosulini) installed a radar station to locate and shoot down American Lightning P-38 fighters. All in all, the soldiers occupying this remote station on the northwestern fringes of Sardinia should have felt themselves extremely lucky to be stranded in a beautiful middle of nowhere rather than, say, in Stalingrad.
The fox is not on the menu
We step inside the mess hall and occupy one of the vacant tables. Around us, wall murals painted during the 1930s depict the style, themes, and people of Fascist Italy. Like phantom frescos of cavemen, they are intriguing as they are eerie. Dinner is OK, but unmemorable. It’s not like we had much of a choice. Wine is fine, too. The most noteworthy is the local wild red fox that pays us a visit. She poses quietly at the entrance to the cantine, probably waiting for scraps. Initially, I found it hard to comprehend how small foxes are – no bigger than an average Poodle. Her red tail is almost as big as her body. We finish our glasses of wine (OK-ish) and hit bed before 10pm.
A new day over the rocks
It’s a new, bright day over Alghero Bay. We wake up at our secluded residence on the cliff for another pitch-perfect sunny day. Today, we will cover 250km over the northern part of Sardinia. We’ll start the morning with a short ride to the lighthouse at Cape Caccia. After a brief visit to Neptune’s stalactite cave just below it, we will ride straight north to the island’s northwestern edge and the location of its most famous stretch of sand – Pelosetta Beach. A quick wash and a lunch later, we will head east across the northern shore until our nightly stop at the Grand Hotel Poltu Quato, just outside of the very posh town of Porto Cervo.
Having checked out, we board the golf cart express for the 15-minute trek to the park’s main entrance. With the morning sun to our east, the view west towards Cape Caccia is spectacular. We stop to take photos. Make that journey 20 minutes. After finding the bikes where we left them the previous afternoon (yes, we had our doubts), we quickly set our bags, warm the engines, and set off for the short 13km ride to the Caccia Lighthouse. As our bikes climb up the road leading to the top of the cliff, the Bay of Conte and the Gulf of Alghero reveal themselves in their majestic beauty. We park at one of the few stop stations to marvel at the scenery and snap some postcard photos.
No lighthouse for us!
We get to the lighthouse parking, surprised by the many cars and motorcycles already there, and discover that:
- The access to the lighthouse is restricted to members of the Italian Coast Guard
- You need to buy tickets to get to Neptune Cave
- You cannot just buy a ticket and go. Scheduled visits are going out every 45 minutes
- The next available one is going out in an hour
- Getting there requires traversing about a thousand steps, and my foot hasn’t healed yet.
- There’s a small restaurant and cafe on the other side of the parking lot
Feeling cheated, we circle option number 5 and order a Cappuccino. Angry at the Sardinians for spoiling our morning plans, I take revenge and also order a Diet Coke. With nothing better to do, we hop on our Husqvarna and Kawasaki and ride the 59km straight north (I can swear it looked much shorter on the map) to Spiaggia della Pelosetta.
The guidebook describes Pelosa as a “genuinely natural oasis. The most famous – and busiest – of Sardinia’s beaches, and with good reason.” This long stretch of sand, secluded by rocky outcrops and scented with the aroma of wildflowers, overlooks an isthmus guarded by 15th and 16th-century Spanish forts. Beyond the fort, the rugged cliffs of Asinara Island to the north provide the view with some extra splendor.
Beached on Pelosetta
We park our bikes in the spacious parking lot, happy to arrive two months before peak season. A beautifully bright carpet of pink-purplish flowers greets us as we descend the steps to the beach below. A quick look affirms the celebrity status of this particular seaside. To begin with, the water is an amazing shade of exotic aquamarine and completely flat. Think about a Maldive poster, and you’ve got the general picture.
Although not flooded by throngs of tourists, the patches of sand are quite full for late April. A few brave souls are swimming. We decide to test the water and see if we should join them. A quick dab is all we need. While the sea temperature might be ideal for someone coming from Lapland, it’s not something an Israeli would find enjoyable. I admit to having considered entering just for the challenge. My friend soon set me straight. “We didn’t come here to suffer!” he says. Honestly? He has a point.
We settle for a nice lunch in one of the beach restaurants scattered along the shoreline. Ristorante Bar La Pelosetta was chosen partly because it is the closest to where we stand, partly because it has few vacant tables and no wait time. We do not expect much from such an obvious “tourist trap”, but at least the view over the bay is marvelous.
Hungry. Again.
The waitress didn’t take long to arrive with an opening mesa of thin and crusty baked bread covered in olive oil and a simple bruschetta of tomatoes and basil. We were surprised by how delicious they were and proceeded to devour them like a bunch of sea-wreck survivors.
Next comes a cold seafood platter complete with large langoustines and generous portions of octopus, calamari, fresh asparagus, lettuce, endives, and radish. A light touch of lemon juice and olive oil complements this magnificent yet basic dish made of the finest ingredients.
We also ordered another dish made of Salmon, which, in hindsight, was a mistake. It looks and tastes like something bought in a supermarket, which it probably was. What were we thinking? We keep it strictly local from now on and never look back.
To our right, on the waterline, a group of exceptionally well-dressed beauties pose for a picture. One of the ladies wears a crown of flowers. Birthday perhaps? I don’t get much time to ogle before the next courses arrive. We get to enjoy rolled eggplants, Tuna sashimi, and a hearty dish of baked octopus in tomato sauce. The small bill at the end makes the whole thing a complete no-brainer. We garnish with a double espresso.
Thinking of Jake and Elwood
Back at the parking lot, I glance at my phone only to realize two hours had passed like a breeze. Now, back on our bikes, we calculate the time, the stops, and the journey ahead. It’s 180km to Porto Cervo. We have a full tank of gas and half a pack of chewing gum. It’s sunny, and we’re wearing sunglasses. Let’s hit it!
