It’s not always easy to compromise. Human nature prefers its own way. Yet, compromise is something we learn along the way. Often, less is more – more or less.
With fewer days left of Laura’s time with us we make a decision. A complete lap of Sardinia now out of the question. We do a left turn. Head east. Aim to hit the far coastline. Do more of the same.
We didn’t plan on doing more of this though . . . taking Beastie into villages where he’s outlawed.
Cigno Bianco Camping – Tortoli, just south of Arbatax houses us for a sunny stay. This huge site bounded on three sides by three completely different sections of coastline. A seaweed collecting bay. Here a JCB harvests the natural inflow into a ten metre tall pyramid. It wakes us from our slumbers at 7am sharp with its throaty roar. A silky sandy beach for sun worshipers and water lovers AKA ‘us’. These split by a ragged rocky peninsula resembling a gnarled arthritic thumbless hand. It stretches out towards the deep, looking for its missing member.
The down side to some of the large sites is their weird sense of security. Insist all happy campers turn into grumpy clampees. (Well, we three do) Insist on wrist bands. We’ve had enough. Turn renegade. Don them for this photo several days later.
