Articles > Sardinia

Immersing myself in the clear turquoise Sardinian sea became a daily fix. The purest, cleanest part of the Mediterranean sea laps the island’s shores. ‘I’ve never seen such a beautiful coastline, such long, empty beaches,’ said an American army helicopter pilot I met in Cagliari. He had just flown down the length of the island on a secret mission - making sure he knew the way before piloting a VIP the following week. ‘It would be embarrassing if we got lost,’ he pointed out.

I’d seen as much of the steep, old part of Cagliari as I could manage in the 39 degree heat. The pensione I’d booked into was pleasant and central but I wanted the sea within a few yards again, so I could fling myself into it on waking. Staying in any of the 90 plus campsites that dot the coast of Sardinia, this is possible. Avoiding the high prices of hotels and the need to book ahead, the three- and four-star campsites have shower facilities, restaurants and evening entertainment to rival staider brick and mortar establishments. And there’s nothing like brushing your teeth in the open air or the freedom of walking around the site freshly showered in a towel and flipflops.

Camping is big in Sardinia. Large Italian families set up temporary homes with precision and aplomb. Several generations will gather round a table to enjoy a barbecued dinner, having spent a long day on the beach, equipped with well-stocked coolboxes, sunshades and lilos. Careful rules are followed. Prancing six and seven year-olds are strictly forbidden from entering the water until their food had gone down.

In July and August the sea at Alghero, my point of arrival, is filled with holidaymakers and locals. I watch a chic woman with full make up and a glittering green bikini conduct an animated mobile phone conversation while strolling up and down and smoking. Further out, up to her waist, an elderly matron in a voluminous one-piece holds a walkman in upraised arms and belts out the chorus to an opera. While children clambour on floating dragons, parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles walk through the sea, chatting in groups - the summer’s day equivalent of the ‘giro’, the mass meander which takes place in all Italian town centres at nightfall.

Alghero’s long beach became very familiar this summer. My three sons and I spent two weeks in a small bungalow on La Mariposa campsite. Occasional late-night trips to the funfair in town were the furthest we strayed. Back in Dublin the children were whisked off on holiday with their father, and I found myself back on Ryanair’s website booking a flight back, this time to see more of the island. Booking rooms in high season would be expensive and uncertain, so I packed a small tent, picked up a hire car from Alghero airport and set off round the coast anticlockwise - the road less travelled. Clockwise would have brought me onto the notoriously expensive, crowded and not particularly spectacular Costa Smeralda.

Bosa is my first stop, after a tortuous drive down the coast with regular stops to stare across the cliffs and sea to the right, the mountains to the left. Although now August, I seem to be the only tourist in town. In the cathedral on the banks of the river, an old painting of Bosa barely differs from the town today. A steep climb up medieval streets leads to a magnificent view from Bosa’s castle.

Is Arutas beach on the Sinis peninsula is my favourite so far - and I realise I have an agenda to find the perfect beach. The ones alongside the Roman ruins at Tharros are also contenders. Oristano, nearby, is a wonderfully laid-back town, with little to commend it to tourists. Queen Eleanor presides over an empty square. In the late 1300s she led successful military campaigns against the Aragonese, one of Sardinia’s many occupiers. North west of Oristano at Santa Cristina, disconcertingly close to the superstrada, are reminders of Sardinian life 3,500 years ago. I climb to the top of a nuraghe (watchtower) and look down a Bronze Age sacred well - both amazingly intact.

South of Oristano, along the Costa Verde, lie the most untouched of Sardinia’s beaches, reached along sandy, windy tracks. I swim at several spots before turing inland for the jaw-dropping mountain drive towards Iglesias. From there I head for Sant’Antioco, an island off the south west tip of Sardinia. Here I find everything I’m looking for, from the rose-strewn streets and parading horsemen when I arrive, to the quirky campsite shared with ostriches - it doubles as a small zoo, the bustling ‘giro’ in the main town, the roads that peter out elsewhere and yes, finally, the perfect beach.

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