King Solomon once wisely said “There is nothing new under the sun”. As he preempted the arrival of MOHO-Sapiens by a few millennia we can forgive him for getting this one completely wrong.
An earlier tan-topping stop off sees us pushed for time. We aim to pitch up close to Santa Teresa Gallura. Just as dusk arrives, so do we. Outside the closed gates of La Liccia Camping. Shut up for the season. Miss Whizz – AKA Laura, has us pointing to nearby AgriCamping within seconds. It’s five minutes away. She has misgivings about the road running into it. It’s a farm site. I phone to double check. Wolfgang gives us a thumbs up.
Our final approach is a new one. Never done this before. Definitely new under the sun for us. Becomes a frontier too far for Laura. She hops out. Can’t say I blame her. Misses recording Beastie’s first failed attempt. My fault. I steer a wrong line. He does well. Gets so far. Then his wheels lose all grip as they furiously spin us nowhere fast. Kick up as much dust as a KamAZ-53501 as it ploughs its way to Dakar. A slow reverse back down before engaging traction control (why didn’t I do that first time?) brings a result.
We’re crossing back over to Corsica tomorrow. Ferry booked requires an early start. Early bedtime called for. We make it just before midnight – early for us. We prefer to squeeze every last drop out of each day. The weather caves in. Decides to squeeze its every last drop on us. Assisted by gale force gusts. Beastie is not happy. He’s facing the prevailing wind side on. Rocks and rolls like a drunken sailor searching for his land legs. A noisy night of torment follows with very little sleep.