Quit our jobs, sold our home and everything in it, gone riding... | Page 144 | GTAMotorcycle.com

Quit our jobs, sold our home and everything in it, gone riding...

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The road leads us away from the coast and into the mountains of Corse-Du-Sud (Southern Department of Corsica)

The rocks here aren't as orangey-red as yesterday, but the road is still entertaining enough as it winds through the mountains. As we round one of the corners, we're greeted with a cloud of smoke. Is there some kind of forest fire up ahead? We come up fast behind this car, billowing smoke behind it. The driver seems oblivious to the thick haze he's leaving in his wake. I think his engine's on fire!

I pull up beside the car and start honking my horn, pointing to the front of his car. He doesn't know what I'm gesticulating at. I then point at the smoke screen behind us and he glances at his rear view mirror (probably for the very first time) and then he gets it.

We pull over, but he doesn't seem to know what to do.

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I ask him to pop the hood. No fire, so obviously a coolant leak somewhere. Between the two of us, we have a little bit of water to fill the reservoir

He's lost a lot of coolant, so I try to explain in my broken French that he needs to top it up as soon as possible. "Oui! Oui!" I'm still not sure he understood as we waved goodbye to him at the side of the road, waiting for his engine to cool down.

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There's a break in the mountains where we can see the coast below, so we stop for a scenic peek. Other motorists stop for peek at our bikes.
 
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Ah, the orange rocks are back again

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More twisty roads in Southern Corsica

It only takes us a couple more hours to arrive at the southern tip of the island. We enter the town of Bonifacio and are greeted by the tall walls of its citadel, made out of that same rock that we've ridden through in the last couple of days.

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Parking the bikes to do some exploring. The palm trees are so very Mediterranean!
 
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Old Medieval buildings line the shores of the harbour, and you can see the citadel overlooking the waters

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After walking around the marina, we hopped back onto the bikes and rode right up into the citadel

Free motorcycle parking inside the citadel! I love Europe! Riding all over town beats hiking all over town...

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We walk around the top of the walls, looking down into the town and the waters of the Mediterranean Sea.
 
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Sailboats floating around the Bay of Bonifacio

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Walking past the citadel church towards one of the old fort towers on the wall

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Monument of the Foreign Legion - This is a monument to the French soldiers who died fighting the war in Algeria in 1870

The terra cotta roofs of the surrounding buildings are another reminder that we're in the Mediterranean. Neda says it reminds her of the buildings along the Dalmatian coast in Croatia. We looked for an amphitheater all over town, but none to be found.

No matter, it wouldn't have been as nice as the one in Pula, anyway...
 
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Limestone cliffs are a famous feature of Corsica. At the bottom of the cliffs are caves that can only be explored by boat

We walk down into the old city of Bonifacio. The narrow cobblestone streets that see so many tourists during the summer, now mutely echo our lone footsteps as we wander around the deserted town. Some of the shops display the Corsican flag, the profile of a black head with a white bandana over the forehead. This symbol is called "La Testa di Moru" (The Moor's Head) and is the symbol for freedom, because originally the bandana was covering the eyes, like a blindfold.

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"Treat yo'self!" A rare occasion where we splurge for a nice seafood meal!

I've been doing quite well, surviving on a diet of sandwiches and camp-cooked meals for the last few days. There's still some post-UK weight I'm holding onto around the waist, but that doesn't stop us from treating ourselves once in a while! :)

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After lunch, riding past the walls of the city
 
MacDoc said:
Interesting thread came up on StromTrooper

http://www.stromtrooper.com/travel-registry/397466-crime-alaska.html#post5014090

Have you guys ever felt truly threatened or afraid ? ( aside from nasty roads) ;0 _
Click to expand...

Alaska? Never.

Aside from the bad drivers in pick-up trucks in the Fairbanks area who straddle the line and cross over into your lane in oncoming traffic, we've never felt unsafe. And definitely not from tweakers.

On a motorcycle trip, you're not going to be riding through cities anyway, much less the parts of the city where **** like that happens. Joe Meth-head is not going to be hanging around a campsite out in the middle of nowhere at the Arctic Circle on the muddy Dalton Highway on the way to Prudhoe Bay...
 
Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/373.html

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Corsica and Sardinia, two islands separated by the narrowest of gaps: just the 11 km wide Strait of Bonifacio.

So strange that Corsica is part of France and Sardinia is in Italy. Corsica was originally Italian as well, but was signed over to the French as part of a debt repayment agreement between the two governments.

This little piece of historical trivia would take on more significance as we traveled further south through Corsica's twin sister.

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It takes us no time to hop from Corsica to Sardinia. And we don't get very far on this new island. Santa Teresa Gallura is the town right at the ferry dock

Since it's getting late in the day, we're going to stay here for the evening and then venture further south first thing in the morning.

We haven't been here very long, but we're noticing a lot of differences between Corisca and Sardinia. The buildings in this port town seem a little run-down, and the roads and pavements don't seem as well maintained as the French island that we just left. It may just be because it's a port town... don't know yet.

Another big change is Neda's mood. For the last three weeks, we've been slowly making our way through France and she doesn't speak the language at all. Being so multi-lingual, Neda is used to understanding and communicating effortlessly with everyone around her. But not in French. For the past few weeks, she's had to rely on my Grade-9-Quebecois-tinged Franglais to get the both of us by. Quite the role reversal. Because normally I'm the one standing around not able to understand or talk to anybody - which I'm totally used to, since that's how I've spent pretty much the last half decade of my life...

But she hates it.

Now that we're in Italy, she takes over the reins con gusto (ugh, mixing up my languages here)... con piacere? *shrug* Back to being deaf and dumb for me...
 
We check into our AirBnB room near the beaches, it's in a very quaint and homey guest house. The lady who runs it is an old Italian nonna and she's delighted that Neda speaks Italian! She must get a lot of English and French tourists coming through. She natters away merrily to Neda, treating her like a long-lost grand-daughter, explaining where all amenities are, things to see and do around Santa Teresa.

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The only thing we have time for before sunset is a quick stroll along the nearby beach

Just like Corsica, the sands here are devoid of sun-seeking tourists. A few die-hard souls brave the waters - I suspect they are locals - as a cold breeze whips off the coast. It's definitely sweater - not swimsuit - weather.

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Watching the waves smash against the rocks just off the coast

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Despite it not being beach weather, it's still quite pretty and we're very much enjoying having the place to ourselves
 
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The sun sets behind the hills overlooking our neighbourhood in Santa Teresa

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Longosardo Tower overlooking the beaches of Santa Teresa

These islands have changed hands many times. Before the Italians ruled Sardinia, the Spanish were here and built fortifications and towers along the coast to defend against pirates and other sea attacks.

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Avant-garde sculpture of the Virgin Mary at sunset
 
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We walk to the old town square to score us some fall weather snacks - ice cream!

Wile we were walking past the ice cream store, Neda spotted a pale blue-coloured flavour. When she inquired about what that was, the server replied, "Mirto". "Oh, Mirto! We have those plants in Croatia, it's Mirta! I never knew you could eat the berries that grew on those bushes. I'll have to try it!"

Being uni-lingual, I had to Google what Mirto/Mirta is. It's Myrtle. The berries are blue and are used to make liqueur on both of the islands. And apparently they use it to make ice cream here, which seems to be a uniquely Sardinian thing. Neda says Mirto/Mirta/Myrtle berries are very Mediterranean and remind her of home.

What with all the familiar language and foods, she is loving being back in the Nedaterranean.

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The next morning, we're all packed up and ready to explore the rest of Sardinia. But first, we feed the local dogs!

This guy was so shy. He wouldn't take the snack from my hand, and I had to leave it on the road and back away for him to pick it up. I think he's been bullied a lot by the local kids and is now wary of all people. Sad.

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Off we go!
 
The road south-west from Santa Teresa shoots inland and we're treated to the typical curvy mountain roads in the northern region of Gallura, just like the ones in Corsica.

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The windy road takes us through some small Italian towns. This is the Commune di Nulvi, just outside of Sassari

Sa Essida de sos candhaleris ("The exit of the candlesticks") is an annual Catholic ceremony where three huge candlestick holders are walked through the streets of Nulvi to the parish church. It seems to be quite a huge celebration that draws a lot of people from all over to this tiny village.

It's held every August 14th, so we've missed it. That's a shame, it looks quite interesting to see in person.

All the buildings we've seen in Sardinia have been given fresh coats of pastel colours, but it can't hide the fact they haven't been renovated in a while. We've seen enough of the small towns here to draw a conclusion that France is definitely richer than Italy. There's noticeably more funding in Corsica for buildings and roadways than in Sardinia.
 
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How do you pronounce windy? We race down windy roads with huge windmill farms taking advantage of the windy climate.

English is funny.

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How do you pronounce lamb? Like this: "om nom nom"

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Up ahead, the town of Osilo is perched on the side of a hill. The square medieval tower of the Castello Malspina rises up above the town

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Getting lost in the cobblestone streets of Osilo
 
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Between Osilo and Sassari, the road climbs to give us a great view of the plains and valleys below. That's the windy road we just took!

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Sassari is the biggest city in the region. We get off the bikes to walk around the old historical centre and to grab a quick bite to eat for lunch

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More narrow cobblestone streets in Sassari, clothes hanging out to dry
 
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Government buildings at the Piazza d'Italia (main city square)

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Sassari is a lot prettier than the smaller towns we've visited. More tourist dollars pour in here.

Then after lunch, we hopped back on the bikes to take a quick 45-minute ride from Sassari to the Stintino peninsula in the north, which we've heard was one of the top tourist spots in Sardinia.

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Rocky coast, sandy beaches and wind-swept trees at the Spiaggia La Pelosa (Pelosa Beach) in Stintino
 
Looking out into the waters surrounding us, I've realized that a pattern has emerged from the places we've visited over the last 7 months of travel:

Koh Samui, Koh Phangun, Koh Lanta, Penang, Singapore, Phuket, Brac, Hvar, Santorini, England, Isle of Skye, Isle of Man, Ireland, Corsica, Sardinia.

We've taken so many ferries and ridden over a lot of bridges, we've now got quite an Island Hopping theme going! What other islands can we ride?

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Damn. Why am I so tired all the time?!?!
 
Lightcycle said:
Alaska? Never.

Aside from the bad drivers in pick-up trucks in the Fairbanks area who straddle the line and cross over into your lane in oncoming traffic, we've never felt unsafe. And definitely not from tweakers.

On a motorcycle trip, you're not going to be riding through cities anyway, much less the parts of the city where **** like that happens. Joe Meth-head is not going to be hanging around a campsite out in the middle of nowhere at the Arctic Circle on the muddy Dalton Highway on the way to Prudhoe Bay...
Click to expand...

Didn't you have quite the scare back in India a few years ago?
 
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