MOTORHOME TRAVELLERS' DIARY FOR MAY 1998

SICILY, SARDINIA AND CORSICA

Barry and Margaret Williamson

01 MAY 1998 I CAMPING LA PLAYA, ISOLA DELLE FEMMINE

May Day is a public holiday with shops closed and Daniella unsure whether Palermo Cathedral or Palatine Chapel are open to visitors. The access road to Mount Pellegrino is also temporarily closed, so we settled for a day in Isola d F! Barry wrote letters to Gold, Frenchies and the American Motorhome Centre (all of whom he'd earlier phoned about the diesel-filling problem) to give them the solution, and to 'Spannerman' of the ARVE magazine with a query about the bungled brake repair. We also wrote to 9 friends, using up postcards of the Slovakian Tatras.

After lunch we walked the length of the soft sandy beach and back along the seafront, watching the youth of Palermo playing football, eating ice cream and generally posing on their scooters until the police, checking documenti, began impounding their status symbols!

A small British motorhome arrived on the site and we talked to Noel and Ann, an early-retired Welsh couple who divide their time between a house in Devon, a car and caravan in Britain and the motorhome abroad, wintering in Portugal and Spain. He'd been Chief Planning Officer with his local authority. We had a useful information exchange as they'd only just arrived in Sicily but knew something of Corsica (though we'll avoid their favourite site there, described as 'semi-nudist').

Later we watched Part 1 of the Granada production of 'Tess of the d'Urbervilles', thanks to mum's video. The photography was beautiful and the story remains poignant, though we didn't think the actors playing Tess, Alec and Angel had caught the essential spirit of the characters.

A busy morning, first to the shops for essentials like drinking water and seasickness tablets. The campsite water is non potabile and they profit from this by charging 6000 lire for 6 x 2-litre bottles of mineral water, which costs 3500 at the shop round the corner! Margaret rang Alan and learnt that our credit cards have been posted to Olbia, along with the water tablets from Brownhills (for adding to water which does claim to be potable) and a prize we've won, which is a rugby ball-shaped electrical connection cover! Daniella gave us leaving presents: a teatowel of Sicily and a wooden plaque she'd painted herself, showing the nearby tower.

Margaret had a long talk with an elderly German couple who'd just arrived in a large Canadian RV. He was last on Sicily in the war, at the age of 19! They appreciated the information on which campsites they could fit on, and we learnt that Winnebago's European HQ has moved from Kirkel to Wettringen on the Dutch border, and also that they had twice shipped their RV to the States from Emden, claiming that to be much cheaper than Rotterdam.

After lunch we set out for the port of Palermo, with some trepidation as to the route from the end of the motorway. Luckily, Saturday afternoon proved a relatively quiet time in the city and Barry manoeuvred Rosie safely onto the quayside between two Tirrenia line ferries: our Capo Spartivento sailing at 7 pm for Cagliari (capital of Sardinia) and the Capo Carbonara bound for Naples at 8 pm. The docks were very quiet and orderly compared with Greek and Turkish harbours, just a man offering slices of fresh coconut, another selling jewellery from the boot of his car and a third with a handcart of teatowels and other souvenirs. It felt safe enough to leave Rosie while we walked in for a last look at Palermo and a bank. Despite all the dire warnings about Palermo's pickpockets and scippi (young thieves on motor scooters) we'd seen no tourist muggings and lost nothing except our good Tupperware cheese box, which disappeared from the campsite kitchen.

It was well after 6 pm before loading got under way and we understood why all the cabins had been booked when several coaches full of Germans boarded. We sailed on time and had a very calm 12-hour crossing, eating our own picnic in the little cabin, reading and sleeping.

15 miles. Night on board.

We arrived in Sardinia on time at 8.30 am on a calm sunny morning and found our way, despite a lack of signposts, out of the port, past the airport and onto the main road running north towards Oristano. We stopped in a layby to make breakfast, watched by a passing shepherd with his flock. The countryside is greener and gentler than Sicily, very peaceful once out of Cagliari, and sheep are used, as in Greece, for milk and cheese (the famous pecorino).

We turned off for the village of Barumini and the biggest and best preserved remains from the early period of indigenous Sardinian civilisation - the Bronze Age Nuraghic towers dating from 1500 BC, of which there are over 7000 remains scattered about the island! The complex of Su Nuraxi was probably a tribal capital until the Iron Age/Roman period. The round central tower of the massive palace-fortress is enclosed by a 4-towered bulwark, encircled by an outer curtain wall with 5 more towers, all connected by galleries. All around are scattered the stone footings of a large settlement of round huts with hearths, wells, ovens and oil mills. Some have a stone bench lining the inner wall and a central basin, for domestic or religious use. Our guidebook said entry was free but the site had obviously been privatised, with guided tours every half hour, even 'seniors' paying full fare.

Fortunately, on the 12 noon tour we were only joined by one Italian family, as most tourists had gone to lunch. The guide led us up modern metal stairways and along ancient tunnels and steps to the heart of the central tower, still 14 m high though originally over 18 m with 3 storeys. It contained a deep well and had several circular chambers leading off it, open to the sky or closed with cap stones, with neat shelves and niches built into the tapering drystone walls. We were amazed to read that the whole site was partly demolished and covered with earth by the Nuraghi and Carthaginians (fighting alongside them) when the Romans came conquering, some time between the 5th and 3rd centuries BC, and it was only discoverd in 1949 when torrential rains washed away the earth slopes! Strange to think that the builders and inhabitants of the ruined 12thC castle on the nearby conical hill of Las Plassas had no idea that this Nuraghic city lay buried in the fields below! Little is known of the Nuraghi people, but small votive bronzes and other finds from their towers and tombs are in Cagliari Museum. Nuragus is also the name of a white wine from the Cagliari region, whose origins go back to the 7thC BC when Phoenician traders introduced vines to the Nuraghi.

After lunch in the car park we drove to the next village, Gesturi, which is at the edge of a high plain, the last refuge of Sardinia's wild ponies. However, a narrow winding lane was signposted out of the village and Rosie had to turn back for Cagliari. Somewhere in the spaghetti junction of motorway interchanges near the airport and the great stagni or lagoons, we saw signs for a Commercial Centre, advertising hypermarkets, McDonald's, etc. Hoping it would be a good place for a meal and an overnight we persevered to find the turn-off (unsignposted), but the car park was full and it began to rain. Heading into the city we found it very busy with all the car parks crowded and discovered that today is not only the end of the 3-day procession for Sant'Efisio, the patron saint of the island who was martyred at Nora on 1st May, but also a big match is on at the football stadium! We admitted defeat and drove out along the coast to Poetto, a seaside suburb, where we found a place to park for the night by the seafront and bought hot dogs and chips at the little funfair.

121 miles. Free night.

The morning dawned wet and windy, not a good day for returning to Cagliari, so we headed for the east coast. Stopping for diesel was a delight, when 70 litres flowed in with ease after Barry's earlier work on the valve. We continued via the beautiful Strada di Muravera (or the SS125) which ran for 20 miles through wild gorges of pink granite, climbing sharply to a 430 m/1410 ft watershed then falling more gradually past a lone Nuraghic tower at S'Oro, down to sea level by the lagoon of Stagno Saline, where a side road led to a campsite near the beach about 5 miles before the town of Muravera. We saw the lagoon's small resident flock of flamingo as we passed, along with herons and seagulls.

The campsite is excellent, very peaceful with good drinking water, free hot showers and clean ablutions (none of which could be taken for granted in Sicily). It was no surprise to find that it is the only German-run site in Sardinia. We squeezed under the eucalyptus trees and settled in.

Later we rode into Muravera, a busy little town in the reclaimed zone of the Flumendosa River, which has developed into a small holiday resort. At only 11 m above sea level, we are hoping for drier weather! The Conad supermarket was excellent, but still no porridge!

37 miles. £9.48 inc elec.

The weather is still cool, windy and showery, ideal for a day at home. We watched a few other campers come (from Holland and Germany) and go (to France and Austria) and encouraged the many birds, busy building their nests, with a helping of toasted crusts (brought all the way from Gastouni!) We got the April diary printed and May written up to date, read the guidebooks for Sicily, did some dhobi and cleaning, and finally watched the second part of Thomas Hardy's 'Tess'.

On learning that the bus to Cagliari leaves at 8 am, costs almost £4 each and takes nearly 2 hours to go 40 miles, we went, predictably enough, on Alf. Despite a strong wind it was dry and sunny and we rode back enjoying the scenery of the Strada di Muravera, arriving by the harbour after 1½ hours. After playing 'Hunt the Tourist Information Office' (which had moved since our Rough Guide was published but not got round to putting any signs up) and getting some good free leaflets, we checked the smart arcades of Via Roma for an English bookshop, without success, then found our way into the Centro Storico. We drank our coffee by the Roman Amphitheatre, an impressive monument from the 2ndC AD which was only recently opened to visitors, free of charge, and had a fascinating half hour exploring its many levels. Built to hold the city's population of 20,000, it was cut out of the solid rock of the hillside, like a Greek theatre, but is pure Roman in style, elliptical, with tunnels for the wild animals, underground passages and pits below the oval arena for stage mechanisms. It was plundered for stone in the middle ages and then gradually became overgrown and buried until it was found and partly restored at the turn of last century. It was even used for emergency housing during WWII, then further excavated and restored in the 1980's. Most of the Roman capital and port lies under the medieval town with little to be seen today.

Then to the Castello (old quarter within the city walls), which is much less frenetic than Palermo. The museums and art galleries are grouped in modern purpose-built harmony in the Cittadella dei Musei in the Piazza del Arsenale, site of the former royal arsenal, and the archaeological museum was splendid. The ground floor had Neolithic, Nuraghic, Carthaginian and Roman finds (the Greeks being represented only by trade as they never settled here), but the greatest collection was the Nuraghic bronzes. These are wonderful, votive images and grave goods which are the only source of information about their culture. Most are small statuettes, 6 to 18 inches high, spindly figures with long thin faces (rather like our Bournvita mug!) Warriors and hunters, archers and shepherds, nursing mothers and animals, especially stags with fine antlers, reminiscent of Hittite artifacts we'd seen in Ankara.

There were also models of boats, with stag's head prows, and ceremonial swords, their hilts formed by twin stags. The biggest surprise was a couple of roughly hewn stone figures, with similar features, among the earliest human sculpture we've seen, perhaps a bit later than the lions at Mycenae? The Nuraghi left nothing else except their tower-dwellings and their burial chambers, known as Giants' Tombs. The upper floor of the new museum was unfinished, but had an excellent display from a Punic-Roman Necropolis near Cagliari, excavated as recently as last December. The finds from each of the tombs were laid out separately, with drawings to show how they were arranged round the body, plenty of photographs of the site under excavation and models of how the tombs were cut, used, decorated and sealed. It was a pleasure to see how well it could be done, bringing a necropolis back to life.

After a look at the medieval city gates/towers and the outside of the cathedral (by now closed for lunch), we headed out in search of our own lunch at McDonald's. This is a rare treat (the last we saw was in Athens) - we sometimes make our own burgers but can't manage the chips! Then the long ride back to Muravera, pausing for a closer look at the Nuraghic tower of S'Oro about 5 miles before the campsite. It was partly rebuilt in 1976 and we climbed up to and inside it.

The wind has dropped and we took the bicycles out for a lovely morning's ride, back past the S'Oro tower to the turning for Villasimius and then towards the Costa Rei coast. We followed quiet country roads between fields of wheat, orange and olive groves, all liberally strewn with wild flowers and scented with cut grass, wild garlic and orange blossom. It's a calming island, the scenery much less stark than Sicily, with villages and shepherds, somehow less Italian and more friendly, certainly more conducive to cycling. We rode as far as the Capo Ferrato junction, looking for a lane back which didn't exist, so retraced our route and were home for 1 pm and a cyclist's lunch (beans on toast, of course).

A quiet afternoon of reading and writing and wondering if it would rain. The recent news from the area round Naples and Salerno is of torrential rain which, tragically, caused landslides of mud to swamp several villages, with a death toll of over 100 - many are still missing. Later we watched the first half of 'March in Windy City', a video from mum starring David Jason as a spy in Chicago. We didn't think it would evolve into a series but it was entertaining.

Warm enough to cycle in shorts now, riding through Muravera to the next village, San Vito, to shop at the market. This turned out to be mostly clothes and shoes, with the odd black lad selling trinkets being moved on by the police, but we got our fruit and vegetables and found a photocopier in Muravera on the way back. The strawberries cost more than in Sicily, perhaps the season is coming to an end. We tried a new method - chopping them and leaving them layered with sugar till evening, when we made our best-setting jam (without Certo) ever.

In the afternoon we Alfed up into the hills behind San Vito on excellent minor roads with several tunnels, beyond Villasalto to Silius and Ballao. Beautiful green hillsides, thick with flowering shrubs and herbs (myrtles, dog roses, maquis-type vegetation), some cork oaks stripped of their bark. The villages, quiet and sleepy in the siesta sun, looked more prosperous than in Greece and there were several murals showing country-folk at their toil, including some of mining though we only saw traces of one small pit.

After dinner and jam-making we watched the rest of the David Jason video.

The weather has settled and become warm enough to pack the electric blanket and fan heater away and today's dhobi was soon dry. We had a gentle day, cycling a few miles locally to watch the flamingoes on the lagoon before lunch. Barry opened his present from mum (Evelyn Waugh's 'Unconditional Surrender') and wrote her a card. Then we pottered and made a 3-tier chocolate and mandarin gateau to mark the occasion. We used the campsite restaurant for an uninspired meal of steak, salad and chips but enjoyed our own coffee and cake followed by a box of chocolates and the first half of 'Dr Zhivago' on video.

The main road north was fairly narrow and twisting, climbing among the hills just inland from the east coast, which is clearly the less developed side of the island. At least 10 Nuraghi towers were marked on the map along our route but we saw nothing - most of the 7000 must be literally unremarkable. At Bari Sardo we turned off for the coast, 3 miles away at Torre di Bari, where there are 3 campsites. After a long walk down a beach track to the 'Domus de Janas' site, which looked deserted, we had a coffee and then drove here and settled within sight of the eponymous Last Beach (Ultima Spiaggia). It's a large camping village complex with football, tennis and a climbing wall, but very quiet right now. We decided to dispense with electrical hook-ups since the sun shines steadily on our solar panels, the evenings are longer and bargain winter rates are coming to an end.

A walk along the deserted sandy beach was cut short when Margaret startled a long snake basking in the sun. We'd seen several dead in the road recently but this was the first live one.

To complete the birthday festivities, M cooked some delicious chicken breast in a fruity sauce (our strawberry jam substituting successfully for redcurrant jelly!), we had some more gateau and chocolates and watched the rest of 'Dr Zhivago', using the inverter to run the video player. What a wonderful epic - they don't make films like that any more. Barry had never seen it and Margaret only had a vague recollection from 30 years ago so both enjoyed it immensely.

50 miles. £9.65 (even without electricity and with a C C discount!)

The old Spanish town of Bari Sardo was chaotic with roadworks down the main street, but we found a bank and the road climbing inland through Lanusei and Villanova. These inland mountain towns are surprisingly busy, with schools, hospitals, new housing, young families, all far removed from the hill villages of Greece and Turkey where only the old people remain eking out a living. We turned off to reach Lake Alto del Flumendosa, now a reservoir/fish farm and totally deserted: an eerily silent place to picnic. It collects the water which runs off the green slopes of the Gennargentu Mountains and is used for irrigation. The Gennargentu ('silver gate') Massif reaches 1834 m/6017 ft at Punta la Marmora, the highest point on the island, but we could not get a a view of it, surrounded as we were by rounded peaks. This is the Barbagia, the isolated interior which was never conquered by the Romans (who called it Barbaria), infamous for its sheep-rustling, feuding and, more recently, kidnapping hideouts.

Even now, there seems to be a heavy presence of Carabinieri and we had been stopped earlier by a police car to have our papers checked. (Passport, driving licence, Alf's log book and insurance all in order. Luckily they didn't ask about road tax and let us off with a warning that cycling helmets were not sufficient - a habit from the more relaxed regime of Greece when the weather warms up). We made our way on unpaved tracks, past cork oaks and chestnuts and plenty of livestock (Alpine cows, goats, sheep, even free-ranging pigs and piglets), but we saw no-one, not even a shepherd, until we eventually rejoined the main road to Nuoro, turning back before Fonni (Sardinia's highest village at 1000 m/3281 ft). We had gone through a new tunnel, so returned the longer way, over the old pass, reaching 1235 m/4051 ft. We paused at the top to breathe pure air, admire the alpine flowers and listen to the cow bells - it could have been Switzerland except for the pot-pourri of aromatic Mediterranean herbs and shrubs and a certain wildness of scenery. After Villanova we turned to Villagrande, another splendidly sited town, then dropped to the coast at Tortoli where we were glad to find a petrol station open! A short side-trip to the small cargo port of Arbatax, Arab in origin, from where wood, paper and cork are exported. We sat by the pink cliffs of porphyry rock to eat a bar of chocolate, which had completely melted. A final 10 miles back home down the main coast road after a beautiful day of mountains, meadows and woods.

A magnificent drive, especially the 45 mile mountain road from Tortoli to Dorgali, which is also the main road, SS125, serving the east side of the island. We were soon climbing inland, through the town of Baunei set on a precipice 480 m/ 1574 ft high where we parked for coffee with a sea view. After a col at 906m (nearly 3000 ft) we snaked still higher to the Genna Siana pass at 1010 m/3310 ft and stopped to let Rosie get her breath while we made lunch. She is going very well. Then we gradually dropped to Dorgali, a town which, though only about 4 miles inland, is still 387 m above sea level. It is linked by tunnel to the resort and fishing port of Cala Gonone, once only accessible by boat, but the tunnel headroom was too low for Rosie so we drove on, leaving its coves and caves to shorter holidaymakers.

Margaret got very excited near Orosei, spotting a pair of bee-eaters perched on a telegraph wire. Very colourful and unmistakeable, and the first we've seen. The road levelled out after Orosei and we turned off in search of a campsite at Cala Liberotto, the beginning of miles of Pineta woodland fringing the shore. The campsite was unappealing and cramped and we continued to Santa Lucia, where a wide peaceful promenade ran between the pinewoods and the sea. We walked round the village and found it a perfect place for the night - one shop, one bar, one pizzeria (closed), one church with tuneful bells, a few holiday apartments (mostly unoccupied) and 2 campsites (one closed until next weekend, the other open but under such dense trees that Rosie would not get in unscathed).

85 miles. Free night.

We drove inland on a good dual carriageway running up a valley between vineyards for 50 miles to Nuoro, where we intended to park Rosie and explore the town and its vicinity using Alf. To our surprise, there were no services or car parks or even a petrol station on the main road, which bypasses Nuoro, so we risked driving into the centre but, still finding nowhere to park, were glad to find our way back to the bypass. We even circled the new industrial estate, saw no safe parking area and finally drove back along the valley, past Siniscola to the coast near Posada.

D H Lawrence had written "There is nothing to see in Nuoro, which, to tell the truth, is always a relief" but it was superbly placed on a plateau below Monte Ortobene, whose wooded gorges we'd hoped to explore.

After lunch we checked 2 more seaside campsites on the way to Budoni, both of which were still closed, so we returned to the peace of Santa Lucia's seafront. We watched 2 snorkellers browsing in the shoals across the road and bought bananas at a travelling shop which came and parked alongside us, amusing the queue of village women with our pidgin Italian.

119 miles. Free night.

A brand new road to Olbia (dotted on our map) was open from Posada but only for about 10 miles, when we were deposited back on the narrow SS125, which did lead us straight into Sardinia's main port. By now we were low on diesel, water and gas and had passed several closed filling stations, so joined the queue at the only one open, near the harbour. We learnt that the city was about to shut down for the festival of San Simplicio, Olbia's patron saint, who was martyred in the 4th century on 15 May! It lasts several days - great timing! At least parking was easy, on the quayside, and we found the tourist information office and post office both still open. From the TIO we got a good map and directions to an Autogas station on the outskirts (we'd last seen one in Cagliari). The post office was chaos, perhaps because it's closed tomorrow, but we fought our way through to the Fermo Posta counter to find that 3 of Alan's 4 packages were there. We then drove out to the Autogas station on the Tempio road but it was closed (12.15 pm). We managed to find the man and ask what time it opened - tomorrow! At least it exists, but we'll have to return. Then we drove back through the city and about 10 miles north, towards the Costa Smeralda, to Porto di Cugnana where Olbia's nearest campsite was open, quiet and pleasant. We took a hook-up to save gas, and settled in for a few days.

Along with some magazines and bank statements, the mail contained our new Midland credit cards, the water purifying tablets we'd ordered from Brownhill's and a 'rugby' (electro-safe cover for plugs and adapters) which M had won in a motorhome magazine competition (not MMM). It was too small to cover a motorhome's connector and the wrong type for outdoor use! Some prize! It has been a day of good news/bad news! (Here's an autogas station - it's closed! Here's your post - it's not all arrived! Here's a prize - it's useless!) But the weather is lovely, the camp site is good and the air is full of birdsong and orange blossom.

Later we watched Richard Gere and Julia Roberts in 'Pretty Woman', a sort of light-hearted modern version of 'Pygmalion/My Fair Lady'.

56 miles. £8.57 inc elec.

Heavy rain in the morning, so we did some reading, with 2 new MMM's to peruse. After lunch we shopped at the giant Standa hypermarket about 5 miles back towards Olbia and got a tray of strawberries for our 3rd and last pan of jam and a spit-roast chicken. The jam was made while watching a video of Oscar Wilde's 'Canterville Ghost', the cast hamming it up well for Christmas.

Dry and sunny again, so we ventured into Olbia with our empty emergency 5 kg German gas bottle strapped onto Alf's carrier, hoping to fill it at the Autogas station and save having to drive Rosie there for a refill until we're ready to move on. The Autogas man did not have the right fitting for the bottle, but after further enquiries we were sent to a tiny sports shop opposite the hospital. It looked an unlikely source but, amazingly, had an identical full bottle which they exchanged for 25000 lire (somewhat over-priced but we had little choice). Olbia was in festive mood with market stalls, a fair and part of the seafront lined with straw bales for a go-kart race later. The post office was open but our 4th packet of mail hadn't arrived. We were stopped again by the police to check Barry's licence (they must be having a purge), but they didn't appear to object to the lack of helmets or the bomb we were carrying to the rear!

Back to base for an afternoon of diary writing and dhobi for M, while Barry spent several hours underneath Rosie, servicing, greasing and stripping and thick black painting the spare wheel carrier along with his hair.

Margaret rang mum, then converted the rest of yesterday's chicken into a curry.

A terrific thunderstorm in the night led to a showery cloudy morning, spent writing letters (to Martin, MMM, Comfort Insurance and mum, together with queries to the DVLC etc for her to post - the beginning of work on the asked-for 10,000 word piece for MMM).

A brighter afternoon and out on Alf for a ride along the 10 mile stretch of jagged coast known as the Costa Smeralda or Emerald Coast, well named after the thick forest covering the hillsides down to the clear turquoise sea. The other predominant shade is pink, with pink granite headlands, ridges and cliffs round the deep creeks. The colour is echoed in the bland new buildings of the tourist development which is in the hands of a consortium headed by the Aga Khan.. It's become a favourite retreat for the rich with luxury hotels and holiday villages, golf courses and marinas, and we paused in the main resort of Porto Cervo to look at a yacht or two from places like Monaco. The modern architect-designed whitewashed church of Stella Maris above the harbour was very stylish but felt neither holy nor homely.

Returning on an inland road through the wind-eroded rocks of the Gallura region we felt more in tune with the surrounding wildernesss.

A fine day for a ride on Alf through the basin of Gallura to the northern tip of Sardinia. First stop was a mile before the market town of Arzachena to look at the remains of a partly reconstructed Nuraghic round tower perched on a large rock against a rock wall, the Nuraghe Albucciu from the 11th to 8thC BC. Huge blocks of the local granite were used in the conical construction.

About 4 miles out of Arzachena on the Luogosanto road was the first of 3 more ancient sites, the beautiful 'Tomb of Giants' of Coddu Vecchiu: a Nuraghic necropolis. The gallery tomb, roofed with stone slabs and originally covered with a mound of earth, was an Early Bronze Age (16thC BC) collective grave. In the Middle Bronze Age a semi-circular row of standing stones had been added either side of the entrance, which was marked with a much higher stone carved into 2 panels with a tiny doorway at the bottom. Religious rites associated with the dead would have been carried out there. A couple of miles further, down a long rough lane, was a very similar tomb called Li Muri or Li Lolghi, set on a small hilltop amid a wonderful landscape of wild flower meadows and vineyards, a lovely place for our picnic lunch. Again a very Early Bronze Age rectangular cyst burial had later been enhanced with an arc of 15 stone slabs, set edge to edge, with a much higher standing stone at the entrance. We've seen stone dolmens in Britain and France but none with this distinctive frontage.

Finally, about a mile up a rough farm track, were traces of an even earlier Late Neolithic necropolis, ascribed to the Ozieri culture of about 3500 BC. (Ozieri is a village where a cave yielded similar prehistoric finds.) This consisted of circles of small stones set vertically with a small stone burial cyst in the middle of each, set round a larger tomb in the centre, and stone niches outside the circles for offerings or sacrifices. We tried to imagine the cult of the dead of an aristocratic farming culture, a chief surrounded by his subjects, with inferior groups buried in caves.

Then on to Sardinia's northern tip and the port for Corsica, Santa Teresa di Gallura, a striking town on a promontory with a sheer drop into the sea below the 16thC Longosardo Tower. We had spent a night here on our cycle tour of the island (Easter 94), and taken the ferry to Bonifacio on an even earlier cycle tour (Rome to Rome via Sardinia and Corsica). Now we enjoyed an ice cream sitting in the bright sunshine before going down to the port to check the times, prices and suitability of the ferries for taking Rosie across to Corsica in the next stage of our current journey. We found that Seremar and Moby lines run a total of 7 ferries a day, costing about £50 to take us all on the one-hour crossing.

We returned home on the main north coast road, running inland from the dramatic rocky coastline, turning off for a break at the little port of Palau opposite the islands of Maddalena and Caprera. We remembered how we'd previously taken the short ferry ride across, spent a night on La Maddalena and cycled over the causeway to see Garibaldi's house and tomb on Caprera - his home from 1854 until his death in 1882. But now it was time to get home to our lamb and lentil hotpot.

Into Olbia to post mum's letter and check the mail but there was no sign of our 4th package. We called at the Standa Ipermarket complex on the way back for more provisions and a roast chicken. We'd failed to find a DIY (Fai da Te) shop but Barry finally got all he wanted (lightbulbs, distilled water for batteries and a doormat from which to make Rosie a new mudflap).

He spent the afternoon under Rosie again, slowly working his way along the 27 ft chassis with rich thick black sealer we had been carrying for over 3 years, against this day! Margaret wrote, mended and made chicken and mushroom pies.

Out for a short ride on Alf to cool down, get petrol, post Michael's birthday card, leave a film at the Standa Ipermarket photo shop and buy Barry some new wrap-round 'shades' to keep the wind out of his eyes when cycling/biking.

After lunch he did some rewiring in the corner behind the driver's seat, tidying up the cables, and also fitted a new outside-lightswitch with a red indicator bulb - an excellent way to prevent one of us leaving it on at night and flattening the battery. Removing a panel in the process released a swarm of little biting midges who must have been dormant in there, so we had to fumigate and clean up the bodies!

Another bright sunny day and 2 men worked all day draining and cleaning the big outdoor pool opposite our corner. They wore masks and used powerful chemicals to remove the slime. A more useful job than they'd done earlier in the week, when they erected a huge granite rock with the campsite name engraved on it (a custom in these parts) right in the middle of the entry drive. We hope that we haven't been sealed in, although there are worse fates.

We enjoyed sorting out suitable photographs to illustrate the 'A-Z of Full-timing' series for MMM and listed those still needed. Then Barry (and his lovely assistant) set up some still life shots and took them using the tripod: reference books, maps, first aid materials, health documentation, radio and TV, Margaret writing the diary, the smoke alarm, vehicle spares, gas bottle and electrical hook-up in use. We still need some for dhobi-day and using phone, post office and bank machines, etc.

Later we did more work underneath (B) and inside (M) Rosie, who is looking very smart with all the relevant bits back-to-black or sparkling in the sun, windows and mirrors polished, light shades gleaming, shower showered, drains disinfected, in the constant fight against ageing and Legionnaires disease!

Margaret rang Alan in the evening and it seems the Jersey Midland Bank cheque cards have not arrived, unless they're in the missing package to Olbia. We rewatched 2 favourite shorts on video: an episode of Fred Dibnah, the Bolton steeplejack, and a piece about an 89-year old American called Norman who finally climbs a mountain named after him in Antarctica: 'Dream Big and Dare to Fail' was his message from the summit.

We listened to the final instalment of 'The Shipping News' by E Annie Prew, which has been the World Service 'Off the Shelf' morning story entertaining us over breakfast for the last 2 weeks. Though a repeat, which we'd heard before, we were fascinated by a wonderful story told and read in a very original way. 'Does love come in other colours besides red and black?' asks Doyle, the hero.

Then another warm day, watching the continuing transformation of the swimming pool in our quiet corner of the site and doing a few jobs. Barry gave Alf a thorough clean and service. Margaret rang Midland Jersey about the cheque cards which were sent after our last call in April. Either they never arrived at Alan's or are in the missing packet of mail. They will cancel them and send Alan some more by registered post after he returns from the Lakes in a week. We also got Monica, the helpful campsite receptionist, to translate a note for us to give the post office in Olbia, explaining our problem in case the mail has still not arrived when we leave. It's a relaxing campsite, clean and peaceful (just odd German campers coming and going), presumably very busy in July/August, being the nearest site to Olbia yet on the edge of the Costa Smeralda.

This is the Weekend di Vivere il Mare (sea life) festival in Olbia, according to Monica and the leaflet she gave us promising many kinds of events. We went in to check the post (no joy there) and see what was happening (very little). We bought dates and raisins at a street market, found HP sauce and porridge oat flakes at an Upim supermarket and collected the photographs: some good memories of our American friends, Dick, Audrey and Sally, in there.

After lunch Barry had another session painting Rosie's bottom, and his top. Margaret made royal date & walnut cakes, did some dhobi and wrote letters to Travelbag and the India Tourist Board. The weather remains very warm, 86ºF in the shade this afternoon, made bearable by a fresh breeze. It's good to be back in shorts and sandals with meals outside.

The new oats (rather coarse and sold as health food) made bulky porridge so we put the rest through the food processor to grind them finer. We called at the Standa photographer's to leave some negs for reprints, and on into Olbia where kite flying displays and free food sampling were promised. The Vivere il Mare weekend included Degustazione of local fish, meat, cheese, wine, etc, on the seafront at 11 am. By noon we'd had one sample of yogurt and honey and seen a huge vat of seafood being fried, the crowd held back by railings. There were a couple of kites up but not enough wind for the special ones, like an octopus and tentacles. We did like the caps and T-shirts that many of those involved wore but found no-one selling or giving them away. But we had a sunny morning and took more photos to illustrate the A-Z: Margaret using a bank machine and a good example of the need for a few words of the local language: a sign on the door of the harbour toilets (closed) saying where to find some open.

Back at Cugnana after lunch we set up more photos with a line of clean washing and our laundry tackle (though the hand washer is actually in need of a little welding together), Margaret using a phone box and Barry at his tripod.

We bade farewell to Camping Cugnana, giving Monica some chocolates for her help and leaving the 'rugby' electrical connector for the man, who'd given us a bargain rate compared with the official fees posted up ready for opening in June. We drove to the Autogas station to fill up the LPG tank before leaving Sardinia and were amazed to find it closed - again! It had been closed on the Thursday we first arrived in Olbia, but open when we went with the bottle on a Saturday. Perhaps it only opens at weekends - there were no opening times given. As the nearest alternative was in Sassari, over 60 miles out of our way, we decided to give it till tomorrow, which also allowed our mail an extra day to arrive.

Unwilling to repeat all the manoeuvring required to get onto Camping Cugnana for a single night we drove down the coast, south of Olbia, and turned off towards the headland of Capo Cavallo. The campsite/holiday village was closed but had a large parking area opposite which looked ideal for a free night. When Margaret went to ask the woman we noticed near reception if it was OK to park there we were invited onto the campsite free of charge. Politeness sometimes pays!

After lunch we walked round the huge site, with paths down to a beach opposite the imposing granite mass of the offshore island of Molara. Later we got the bicycles down for a short but hilly ride out to the headland, where the beautiful scenery was a little marred by all the building work - smart holiday bungalows for rich Germans claimed the best beaches.

38 miles. Free night.

A full day! We drove back to Olbia, filled up the LPG tank (taking a photo of the process for the A-Z series) and then parked on the quayside. Taking our note from Monica to the post office, we didn't need it - our missing packet was waiting! It had taken 24 days and for some reason we had to pay 300 lire for it (about 10p), but there it was. Back to Rosie for a celebratory coffee, then on to the Standa complex to collect more photos and shop at the Ipermarket: a last spit-roast chicken and punnet of strawberries.

We ate some of this for lunch in the car park and drove on towards Arzachena, where we parked opposite the Nuraghic site of Albucciu. We'd been here before but not walked out to the small Nuraghic temple at Malchittu, described as 'a short distance away' and signposted up a lane from the car park. After an hour's hot dusty uphill ramble, crossing fields with a resident pig then climbing among the magnificent rocks of Gallura, we thought we must have missed the ancient complex until we noticed a small white arrow painted on a rock sending us even higher up to the left. A final scramble to a delightful little site - a roofless irregularly shaped building of rough stones, two curved arms partly enclosing the area in front, a tree growing out of the main chamber. This small temple, in use from the 16th-10thC BC, was part of a complex with circular huts and funerary caves, though nothing was to be seen of these. Downhill all the way back to Rosie for a well deserved pot of tea, and on to Santa Teresa di Gallura just in time to see the Seremar ferry sail at 5 pm. We could have taken the last crossing with Moby Line at 6.30 pm but preferred to park near the bus station for the night. We walked round the harbour and bought tickets for the 10 am boat tomorrow.

59 miles. Free night.

We eased Rosie onto the Moby ferry with an inch to spare each side, but at least no reversing was needed, with doors at stern and bow. A calm sunny hour sitting on deck watching the white cliffs of Corsica approach as Sardinia receded, then off into the busy traffic on the quay at Bonifacio. There was no room to park on the harbour (barely room to drive through) but we were pleased to find one roomy car park as we needed to leave Rosie in search of a bank. We remembered enough French to argue with the attendant, who didn't want to let us in until we'd paid 30 French Francs which we didn't yet have! By the time we'd parked, had coffee and returned from our errand it was past noon and we were only charged 20 FF! We didn't argue with that.

Bonifacio was crowded with visitors, mostly French. We found the only bank near the marina, then climbed to the Citadelle, the medieval town perched 70 m/230 ft above the turquoise sea on a tall promontory known as Corsica's Gibraltar. The narrow streets were lined with restaurants offering French menus at French prices, there were French signs, French police, French dogs - we were on French soil! We got the usual tourist information from the Hotel de Ville and bought a Michelin map and Dorothy Carrington's book 'Granite Island', having read Paul Theroux's account of meeting her on his visit to Corsica.

The campsite in Bonifacio itself was tiny and scruffy but we found a splendid one about 5 miles out along the Sartène road, quiet with lots of beautiful pine trees and a view of the granite hills. Now we've plenty of gas, sunny days and long warm nights (we hope), we'll try to dispense with electrical hook-ups. Barry tested the gas water and space heating, which worked fine, and even got the generator to run after some servicing (the governor was stuck). The next problem is to fix Alf's carrier on the back of Rosie (made in Corinth), as some of the welding is loose.

7 miles. £7.71

The weather had broken with a thunderstorm in the night and it rained steadily all morning, though remained warm. We wrote to Alan, updated the diary and sent for some Inland Revenue leaflets to help with our next tax return.

After lunch we rode Alf into Bonifacio to post the mail and check the 2 garages as possible welders (no). It is strictly a tourist town now though its defences must have been important through the history of the island. We walked along the southern ramparts, with views of Sardinia only 12 km/8 miles away, and explored the winding alleys and the Rue des deux Empéreurs with a house where Charles V stayed in 1541 and another which belonged to the Bonaparte family, where Napoleon once slept. The drawbridge built in 1588 at the Porte de Gene was still working. St Jean Baptiste's church had a gruesome wooden group carved in 1775 showing his beheading, which is carried in the Good Friday processions. There is a medieval pageant next weekend (the Whitsun holiday) - so we'll try to avoid that.

Warm and dry again with a fresh wind from the west, ideal for a long (200 mile) day out on Alf. First stop was at Propriano, the port for the inland hill town of Sartène, and now a modern marina and ferry port for France (Toulon, Marseille and Nice). A flask of coffee by the harbour and then on minor roads round the Gulf of Valinco and a few miles inland to the prehistoric site of Filitosa, which we've read about in Paul Theroux's 'Pillars of Hercules' and Dorothy Carrington's 'Granite Island'. We were not disappointed, except that the site is still privately owned by the Césari family, whom Dorothy met at the time of its discovery in 1954. But what a magical place, among rolling meadows, cork oaks and the glittering granite rocks that first provided shelter and materials nearly 8000 years ago. There are traces of occupation from the 6th millenium BC, still being excavated, but it is famous for the granite statue-menhirs from about 2000 BC - neolithic and early bronze age - which are incredibly early sculptures and delightfully simple.

They are standing stones with a cartoon-like head and shoulders carved on the front, some full length with a sword or dagger, warrior-chiefs of their race. A few are carved from behind as well, with shoulder blades and spine, which makes them look like phallic symbols, whether intentionally we shall never know. A small museum had a few finds, broken potsherds and bones, a single bronze torque, very little to go on. There are apparently hundreds of these menhirs scattered over the island but these are the best preserved. Indeed, they have lasted better than the concrete copy opposite the site entrance which is already crumbling! The notice by one of the faces was very apt: Son visage aux traits réguliers en fait un chef d'oeuvre de l'art mégalithique.

After a picnic in the car park we rejoined the main road at the top of a 3,000 ft pass and continued to Ajaccio, a modern bustling port with high-rise buildings and hypermarkets, another ferry terminal and a smart marina. We found the Maison Bonaparte where Napoleon was born in 1769 but declined to pay for a guided tour in French, especially as it had been burnt down by Corsican nationalists in 1793 and later rebuilt. (Surprising how quickly he became unpopular!) A ship's chandlers provided the U-bolt Barry needed for a new weldless way of sitting Alf on the back of Rosie.

Returning, we stopped again in Propriano and bought exceedingly good coffee and croque monsieur from a cafe by the harbour, eaten in the sunshine watching a game of boules - it's good to be back in France! We paused again in Sartène, 'the most Corsican of Corsican towns', a delightful old place in the evening light and a centre for the Corsican resistance during the Italian/German occupation. A modern granite sculpture commemorating the victims of fascism stood just outside the town with a splendid panorama over the hills.

We got back just before dark (now at about 9 pm) after a full day.

Before leaving Barry fixed Alf's wobbly carrier with the U-bolt and modified the design to avoid the need for re-welding. We also went a short bike ride up the lane near the campsite to the Ermitage de la Trinité, a church and grotto on the hillside with a view of Bonifacio and across to Sardinia, which looks too near to be another country.

Rosie took us north to Porto-Vecchio, where the bypass road was closed so we made our way round the waterfront, stopping for lunch in the Hyper-U car park, empty as everything closes for lunch. Then about 4 miles beyond the port, at another place named Trinité, we turned off to a sandy bay where there were several campsites and chose the quietest one open. The other campers are clustered against the beach and we have the beautifully wooded hinterland to ourselves, sharing it with a wonderful selection of birds busy building nests and feeding young. Once settled we returned to the Hyper-U on Alf to shop, since all will be closed Sunday/Monday for Whitsun.

24 miles. £8.85

As it was cloudy and cooler we thought it a good day for a serious cycle ride, and set off inland to Palavesa village, where we sheltered from heavy rain for a few minutes, resisted the temptation to turn back at once and continued, climbing hard into the Forest of Ospedale in the national park. We reached about 1500 ft before turning for home, where we soon dried out. On the way back we met the Palavesa Fête cycle race gathering and found we were following their exact route except that they (wisely) were not doing the side trip into the mountains. We should have entered, we might have won a category as 'foreign veterans'!

The rain continued, so after lunch we turned to the binoculars and birdbook. There are colourful jays, a pair of great spotted woodpeckers, and lots of sparrows and other small birds nesting in the eaves of the shower block. Best of all, a pair of spotless starlings are nesting in a hole high in the trunk of a eucalyptus tree right outside our dinette window. (They are like common starlings but without the purple/green spotted sheen, appearing pure black, and found only in Southern Spain/Portugal, N Africa and the islands of the Med from Sicily westwards.) There are cuckoos calling in the day and several scops owls take over as soon as night falls. Rosie makes an excellent 'hide' and the starlings are to excite us throughout the coming week.