Bike Touring Journals by Neil Anderson and Sharon Anderson Bicycle touring journals
January 25 Wednesday Bicycle touring Italy from Gusana Sardinia to a forest past Aritzo Sardegna
An interesting morning light was shining on the mountains in the distance behind the lake. Little did I know that soon we would be climbing up to, and past, those jagged peaks on our fully loaded touring bicycles.
We cycled past Fonni, the highest village at the rooftop of Sardinia. And still we climbed. Up. Up. Soon the scattered blue patches of sky which started so promisingly this morning became eaten by grey clouds. Sign posts warn of slippery conditions, snow and ice, and rain dumping from an ominous cloud.
We reach Tonara and stop for their famous nougat -- which I hadn't heard about until I read about it in the tourist brochure. However, I stopped at a store and enquired "Nougat?" The clerk reached under the counter and grabbed a huge box. It is good. Lots of honey and almonds.
We get back on our touring bicycles and climb a road signed for picnic tables -- a novel concept. After ten minutes of ultra steep hill and no end in sight we stop and eat some tasty nougat while sitting on a concrete ledge.
The village of Aritzo is jam-packed onto a mountainside, squished tightly together. The various coloured buildings make an interesting combination of hued pinks and oranges, green, white and grey. Just as I was getting ready to take a picture, a thick cloud bank rolled in.
As we climbed on our fully loaded touring bicycles through the town, school kids were waiting along the road for a bus. They thought we were pretty hilarious with all our bags and bicycle panniers. I take it this is the first time they have see loaded touring bikes.
Uphill. Downhill. Uphill. Downhill. We are cycling on the edge of the Gennargentu Mountains; the highest at 1834 metres is a stone's throw from here.
The fog envelops us. We come across a two car accident with five police standing around holding little red reflectors. We pass by saying "Ai yi yi" which seems to be a universally understood phrase. A few hundred metres farther, around a corner, we cycle across a crate of oranges dumped beside the ditch. Some are rotten, but others are good and we salvage two bags full. Oh, happy days. Nothing makes me happier than free food.
The fog is thick as we continue on our fully loaded touring bicycles. On a downhill stretch a truck driver stops and asks if Sharon wants to put her bike in the back of his truck for a ride up the hill. She refuses.
Shortly after, we see a sign for a forest and decide to call it a day. We find a semi-level spot amongst the trees and break out the tortellini. I found that mixing it with other pasta makes it more appealing. I chucked out that Coke.
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