Villasimius to Bosa

This was our first experience of Sardinia and you can't help but be taken aback by the natural beauty of the island. It is a gentler, greener and calmer place than Sicily with its complex and multifaceted history not reflected in the architecture to the same extent that Sicily's is. The Nuraghi, the ancient towers, are just about the only signs of antiquity. Well, from the vantage point of the sea in any event. The water really is as clean as it looks and if it wasn't for the fact that it is salty you would certainly want to drink it. The beautiful estuary at Villasimius with its flamingoes and white beaches are seemingly immune from tourist saturation and we got lost in time here for several days before we had to move on to Capitana, which is on the outskirts of Cagliari.

As coincidence would have it my oldest friend, Gerard Korsten, was in Cagliari conducting concerts and an opera at the Teatro Lirico at the same time, so in and around his schedule we spent many hours reviewing Sardinian wines and cuisine. I am happy to report that both are in the best of health. It was also his opportunity to buy me a birthday dinner, which was memorable. The waiter marvelled at the fact that we have been friends for 43 years, not believing for one minute either of us had even reached that, let alone our actual ages. Usually waiters don't make a play for tips here - I knew something fishy was going on.

My birthday dinner in May

When Catherine got back from a short concert tour we left Capitana and headed south west to Porto Malfantano where we anchored peacefully for a few nights. Peacefully, aside from a visit from the Guardia di Finanza in a growling, grey speedboat. They asked for our documents which we handed over into a fishing net and all being ok, they moved on very cheerfully. Obviously carrying Sicilian wine in Sardinia is not an offence, irrespective of the quantity. It struck me that we were becoming luckier with anchoring. Whether we were becoming better at reading the swell, weather and bays or whatever, I decided not to dwell on it and thus not mess with the formula.

Carloforte was our next stop and while it is a tiny place, you do feel like the country bumpkins when you venture back on land after having been at anchor for days. There is a familiar routine too, much of it will be common among other yachties, which involves tanking with water (unless you have a water-maker  - mmm), finding a supermarket close by with sensibly priced beer and, depending on the state of things, a laundry.

Provisioning in Carloforte

Yes, one of those please!

At €20 a tin, not to be found in Tesco

Our sail to the large bay of Oristano was not very memorable although on the plus side none of the large sea for which the west coast is notorious manifest itself. We found a good spot and stayed for a few days, visiting a little village on the western side of the isthmus from where we were anchored by dinghy, where a medieval and somewhat mouldy and abandoned church seemed to struggle for recognition in amongst the kite surfing and sun worshipping activities .

Oristano beach

Oristano anchorage

Again time was drawing near for Catherine to fly to Zurich and we moored up in Bosa halfway up the west coast in a marina situated at the mouth of the river Temo. I set myself a project for this period and that was to install solar panels on Rocko. It has been something we have wanted to do for ages, but the feeling of being fleeced after seeing the quotes in Turkey put this on the back-burner for a time. Steve on Amalia had installed a really good solution and after picking his brains about it I ordered the kit from the UK. It arrived amazingly quickly allowing me plenty of time to do the installation. To say it is life-changing is a little melodramatic, but the feeling of having power via something that makes no noise and that is freely available only enhances the whole feeling of independence. Oh, yes and the sun really does shine all the time.

Two of my pontoon neighbours

Bosa on the Fiume Temo

Pastel is always in stock

Bosa is not the centre of the world but it is a delightful place and the river connects the town to the sea providing the motorboat-loving locals with endless enjoyment and yachties with endless tut-tutting opportunity. I was some months into studying Italian and, Catherine not being around to provide a simultaneous translation service, I was able to give my broken Italian more of an outing. My neighbour on the pontoon, a local resident, is an avid sailor and went out most days. We got talking, in Italian, and he gave me a fulsome explanation of the ramifications of the sinking of the Costa Concordia upon the maritime insurance business and what a cretin Schettino is. I had hoped to participate a little more in the conversation, but the subject matter’s vocabulary was in a chapter I had yet to discover. Again, the friendliness of the Sardinians is fantastic. After commenting on the exorbitant price of diesel at the marina, as is invariably the case, he, Alessandro, drove me a good half an hour with his car to a petrol station that he knew so I could fill my jerry cans with diesel saving me 28 cents a litre, yet costing him, I don’t know how much in petrol, a contribution to which he declined.

I made the trip from Bosa to Olbia via bus and train to meet Catherine upon her return from Zurich and took the time to check out the possibilities of stationing myself there in August. The imperative to maximise earnings in the tourist trade during summer here is quite crass. July or September cost half of August and about half that again for June and October. This makes planning for August rather important, obviously. The town quay seemed like a good solution when I saw it , but Mark from Panacea was in a similar position picking up crew in Olbia and gave me a golden tip. More of that next time.

Bread is hell on the gas

Zucchini flowers in tempura batter

Pastry is easier in a house

We do try keep up the culinary standards on board, but it is not always easy with a cranky oven and a fridge that seems to be monopolised by the need for ice and chilled white wine.