Greetings From the Grecale

We are camped at Vignola Mare on a lovely sweep of sand next to the Torre di Vignola, a medieval watch tower. We had arrived Thursday during the late afternoon, fatigued from another dogged slog into a persistently noticeable headwind. I had optimistically and naively believed that the northwest wind, which we paddled against to approach Capo Testo, would be in our favour as we rounded the impressive rocky cape, but unbelievably, as we rounded the sculptured cape, we now faced a southwest wind. It becomes quite fatiguing to day after day plod into headwids which noticeably impede forward progress. We keep hoping that the dominant northwest mistral wind will shove us southwards along Sardinia's west coast.

But early in the night, I sensed a change in the weather. Our protected beach where water sparkled and lapped peacefully upon our arrival now roared with a continuous surging of waves. I couldn't sleep and dragged myself out of the warmth of my revery and down sleeping bag to get sandblasted in the darkness. The water had reached the kayaks. Barefoot, I grabbed the kayaks by the bow, dug my heels into the sand, leaned back and dragged each kayak several meters higher on the beach, chilled but refreshed from the howling mistral wind as Rene slept blisfully unaware. He literally sleeps like a log:-)

We slept in, though it was difficult listening to the roaring of the wind and waves as well as the flapping and violent fluttering of the tent walls. And now we are breakfasting Italian style in a bar about 600 meters from our campsite. We have had cappuccino, a croissant followed by a caffé latté.

The wind has increased in its intensity. We are staying put for now. Even standing on the beach, I have to spread my feet apart to maintain my balance and zip tight the turtleneck of my Odlo sweater and Primaloft vest.

Sardinia's coastline never ceases to impress me. The rocky shoreline has presented steep, skyhigh cliffs gouged in caves and arches and covered in thousands of falcons whereas the Costa Smerelda coast, though less vertical, has been equally impressive in its evocative and sensuous curves sculpted into the coarse granite, smooth, sexy curves revealing secret slivers of powder white sand.

Yesterday, as we took a mid day break, I walked on a horse trail amongst the Mediterranean shrubbery, various shades of green, with a multitude of textures and shapes, and breathed in the aromatic scents floating on the warm wind.

Today, we'll rest, a good thing for René's back which is aching. As I look across the Bocce di Bonifacio, Corsica sits on the horizon, its moutainous coastline vividly clear. And a frothing sea with endless rows of whitecaps surges onto the adjacent beach.