Don't try this at home... On doing things with a big motorcycle that one ought to be doing on a little motorcycle.

I had planned to visit Tiscali, one of Sardegna's most important nuragic sites. To that end I rose before the sun and was on the road to see the orange light play with the sea and the mountains and the fog. It was to be the only good part of my day. Calagogne Beach Calagogne Sunrise Calagogne Moon Setting Getting directions to Tiscali... note the roadmap and the geographic maps Tiscali Crocus So, I didn't follow my own rule of intuition and here I am stuck on a dirt road to an archeological site on a Tuesday in October. Ahead of me is an English couple, the woman about eight months pregnant. Behind me is a gaggle of Dutch senior citizens in kakkies hiking with ski poles. But they are hours away if they stopped for lunch, and here I am sunk in a gully of gravel. I wish I had a photo... well, I'm glad I don't. My own fault. I shouldn't have treated it like a dirt bike coming this far. We sank softly, every so softly, and have you ever tried to pick up 285 kilos? (Translate that, kids!) I have, and I'll be paying for it for ways. The sun is hot but the breeze is cool. I lie in the pine grove by the road and try to wait patiently. Ahhh, the choices we make. This one really landed me in a spot. About a hundred yards away is a wooden shack patched with tin. On the clothesline there are three ragged goatskins that look like they've been there forever, twisted pathetically in the sun, at first I don't see that they've still got heads, little horns, pointing to the ground. Across from the shack is a disfunctional army jeep and some miscellaneous engine parts, all rusting, and some trash. Don't be a chicken, I told myself this morning when I saw the dirt road. And so I headed down it thinking "float"... thinking "light". Me and 285 kilos. I must have been insane. How embarrasing, I think now. Whoever comes down that road is going to think I'm a nut. So I start walking. I'm going to have to pay that sullen man at the hut, or find those Dutch hikers... who are miraculously walking down the road toward me now! They chat happily, walk strongly, using their black ski poles to launch each step. Never mind, I'm saved. The leader, a short strong woman of about 35 speaks in a loud sure voice. "You have a Guzzi? I know it. I would not have used it on this road, that braking system is for the road not for the dirt." She's right, the integral braking system requires that you bring your right foot up and that's no good for dirt biking. Before we turn the corner we smell the gas that has leaked from the tank. The group laughs. It does look ridiculous, this big bike lying on its side in the sun like a maroon elephant. "Ahh, I don't blame you at all for this fall," says the leader and I mentally thank her for not laughing at me. One of the Dutch women whips out her video camera as the others all help me haul her out of the ditch. No damage at all, except a little scratch on the windshield. I sit on the bike and ride it out of the gravel. Yep... most of the damage is to my ego. They're about to walk on but I ask them to stay just to make sure I get back up the hill. "Okay, but we only pick it up once more!" laughs one of the women. Ha ha. So this is how I have come to this area and not seen Tiscali. I have seen nothing but mountains, gravel roads, and bright hot sun, some mountain crocus, a few mangy dogs, a half-wild pig and some birds. I ride back, choosing randomly from roads that branch off and pray for civilization. This place is really wild, there are no signs directing hiking tourists back to any town, but I miraculously make it back to pavement. I am starving, having eaten only a croissant and some yogurt at 7am, and now it is 2pm. I'm shakey on the road, I can't wait to get back to my campsite and when I do I stuff myself and then run down to the port to see if I can catch the last boat to Cala Luna, but see it leave the port before I arrive. Dejected, I walk to the Road House Blues Cafe and order a cappucino and look out to the sea. My pen runs out of ink and the waiter can't find even one that works. So I look at my maps. Tomorrow I will be in Sicily, I think. < previous | next >