I pedaled a little slower on my last day in Sardinia. It wasn't from tired legs but from not wanting to leave. It may be considered Italian by the mainland but never before have I had to remind myself where I am than on this enchanting island. Sardinia consumed my imagination with its beautiful beaches and soaring mountains. Even the shortest interaction with locals had me wishing I could speak Sardinian dialect. Not being able to listen to these proud people tell their stories will forever haunt me.
It's another all night ferry from Olbia to Genoa for Lyudmila and I. From there a train to Torino to share a long dinner with old friends.
Editor's note: I was just along for the ride. Up steep climbs, cranking hard on the pedals, Lyudmila managed without a single flat tire, broken chain, or snapped cable. Nothing. She never quit me.
1 comment:
Brad, I've followed your trip and it may be the closest I ever get to where you are. thanks for your words and pictures.!!
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