Bike Touring Journals by Neil Anderson and Sharon Anderson Lead Goat Bicycle touring Sardinia
Peanut Butter
Life has taught us that love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking outward together in the same direction.
~ Antoine-Marie-Roger de Saint-Exupery
My bad luck streak with canines continued unabated in Palau, a port town on the northeast coast of Sardinia. As I exited a store, a slanty-eyed dog that had till then been lying comatose on the sidewalk rushed at me, nipped my ankle, then scuttled away. Fortunately, the day was chilly and I had put on an extra pair of thick wool socks; the mutt had chomped down mainly on a mouthful of wool. I peeled the sock down and checked - two rows of teeth marks dented my flesh, but the skin wasn't punctured.
I shook my head angrily and limped back to my bike, wondering why I was suddenly a favoured hound target. Most dogs have a fascination with cyclists - we're a challenge for them since we're faster than a pedestrian, yet slower than a car. We usually don't have a problem with dogs when we're off the bikes though, and I couldn't fathom why the brute had taken such a dislike to me. Maybe it was time to wash my socks?
Still fuming, I hopped on my bike and pedalled away. As fate would have it, my path crossed the devil dog's. The deranged beast saw its second chance to do me in. It hurtled towards me, snarling, black eyes burning like two red-hot coals. But I was ready. Cayenne pepper spray in hand, I blasted the mongrel pointblank in its gaping maw. "You like spicy Mexican?" I yelled. It yipped, and slunk off to find some Nacho chips.
All that pepper made me hungry. We cruised down to Palau's beach and ate an undisturbed lunch. Maddalena Island - a U.S. military base - shimmered across the water like a tiny iridescent jewel. The water was blue like the paint on a Greek house, and so clear you could see the bottom, even though I suspected it was far out of reach. It looked like an idyllic location to be stationed.
Leaving Palau, we headed south along the east coast - famous for its gigantic wind and water eroded sandstone. Everywhere we looked there were metamorphoses in fanciful shapes. Identifying them was only limited by our imaginations. One of my favourites, complete with large back plates that bristled into the dark blue sky, was shaped like a Stegosaurus. Another favourite, high above Palau, was a huge bear-shaped rock named Cape Orso.
We were so engrossed distinguishing lumps of sandstone that we missed our turn, and descended all the way back to sea level before we realized our error. The road ended beside a complex of newly constructed condominiums. We grumbled loudly, made a sweeping turn in the cul-de-sac, and backtracked up the steep road. Winded, we reached a crossroads and stopped. I had no intention of going in the wrong direction again, and saw my chance to ask directions from a woman parked on the side of the road. As I approached, a poodle in the back was completely silent. Perhaps my dog karma was improving?
The woman gave me directions, then said, "I'm waiting for the school bus. I see from your flag that you're from Canada. We're from Norfolk, Virginia. We came to Sardinia when my husband was stationed at the U.S. Navy post on Maddalena Island." She paused. "We have a PX in Palau. I was wondering what food do you kids miss the most?"
"Peanut butter!" Sharon and I both chimed without hesitation.
"I can run to the naval store to buy you some," she offered. "Do you like crunchy Skippy peanut butter?"
Do we like crunchy Skippy peanut butter!?! Sharon and I flashed her huge smiles. The day had definitely taken a turn for the better!
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