From Luras to Nulvi
2 August 2019
Today’s stage seemed marked by the wind, but that would have been too easy.
The start
I knew that today’s stage would have a somewhat heavy start (the climb up to Tempio Pausania), a long section of big descents, and a mysterious finale because of the unclear map (note for me and for the future: mysterious = stay away). So I decided to set off at 7:30 to give myself plenty of time and, hopefully, take a bit of the early morning cool. As soon as I left the b&b, however, the situation was the following: a bubble of deadly mugginess, grey sky, and the threat of rain. Very good. Gasping for that thread of available oxygen I head towards Tempio Pausania cursing (with grace and moderation and also apologizing, you never know).
First stretch a bit heavy. Asphalt, sporty early-morning trucks, and again, mugginess. After a few km of slog, the GPS suggests an off-road shortcut. I decide to give it the benefit of the doubt just to get off the road, and I do well. The gravel route is clearly a shortcut to Tempio, it passes by small farms with very beautiful cows, but above all it crosses a tiny, delightful railway (the touristic Sassari - Tempio - Palau line of the Trenino Verde) — the small discoveries that give meaning to traveling this way.
I continue on the route, decidedly not difficult apart from the start, and finally I arrive in Tempio. I’d like a coffee but since the descent is starting I decide to postpone it.
The descent
Here we’re talking about about 15 km practically without pedaling (they call it “La Fumosa”); for the first five, ten minutes I alternated a kid’s ear-to-ear grin with terror at what would be waiting for me afterwards, but then luckily the kid took complete control, and forced me to let go, and to enjoy totally and unconditionally the 37-40 km/h, the bike on a loose rein, the wind in my face, and all my thoughts left flying away behind me. Off. Off.
The run ended at Perfugas, where I stopped at the very classic ‘men’s bar’ of the village, where the most sober one was drinking Ichnusa, and I instead opted for a little Ace juice. Imagine their faces seeing me come in in tight cycling kit and ask for a juice. I even asked one of them to take a photo with me!
The vertical slab
I set off from Perfugas and again everything seems easy, some up-and-down but nothing complex. I pass through Bulzi and Sedini, where I stop to settle the pending coffee question. Quite jaunty I set off on the flat main road, but I notice that according to the GPS the road was a different one. I go back and forth but I can’t find this junction. Then I get it: that vertical concrete slab I had distractedly glanced at is in fact a road, of sorts, and the GPS wants me to go up there. I frantically consult the maps and nothing — to head towards Nulvi the road (let’s call it that) seems to be the one, unless I decide to circumnavigate Sardinia and a bit of Corsica too. Naturally I push the bike (impossible otherwise) and little by little I reach the top, where I meet two men busy doing small jobs outside a house. I stop to chat, one is from Rome, I tell him about the trip, we say goodbye wishing each other a good life. Talking with strangers met by bike is fascinating — a small bridge of mutual kindness and spontaneous smiles; I’m convinced that in those moments you manage for an instant to read the person for what they are, beyond the rages and frustrations that corrode the soul.
After a short stretch of road I find a pleasant gravel route, until a new monstrous climb that leads directly to a wind farm that I can make out from afar. Good, I think, it will be hard but then I’ll enjoy some air. And indeed after the climb, done a bit by pedaling and a good bit by pushing, I arrive in the middle of the small plateau where the wind turbines have been installed. The wind is extremely strong!
Considering the hour and the deadly heat, pedaling with that lovely impetuous and fresh air (on the flat) was almost as pleasant as the 15 km of descent, and how nice the sound of the blades moved by the wind! But just when I felt I could title the day “the pleasure of wind in the face,” the gravel ends and I find myself in a jungle of brambles. It’s the single track route, which I had forgotten, and which is really impassable.
It looked easy today
Very tall grass, blackberry brambles, stones, holes and, needless to say, climb. I decide to continue on foot — even if I’d wanted to pedal, the traps were really too many. And a crazy slog begins, at 12:30, with the sun directly overhead, making my way among the brambles pushing uphill.
Now, the problem of these moments is that the head works a lot, for those like me who don’t have that kind of spiritual preparation that leads you to focus entirely on what you are doing in that moment. And in my case, unfortunately I was caught up by many of those thoughts left in the wind a few dozen km earlier. Those thoughts are sneaky — they easily find space in a moment of physical and psychological fragility. I don’t put up much resistance, also because I don’t have any, and besides I always think that in the end it’s better to let things through than to push them back. But this time it’s different, because what’s simmering are feelings of guilt.
It’s too much, and as on the Po in July, it all comes down in ten minutes. But this time I drop the bike, I can’t carry on. I let it all out and it isn’t easy, but it is important, and I understand that I need it.
After a few minutes I notice by chance that I lost the cycling gloves I had taken off earlier. I pull myself together, and try going back down a few meters to look for them. It goes better — walking I realize I have lightened up. A small step, perhaps an important one.
Having declared the gloves lost, I continue a bit pedaling and a bit pushing, and finally this damned rough route ends. I’m on the road, I have two km of easy climb to finally reach the agriturismo where I am now, and where I will spend the night.
It looked easy, today.