Porto Torres

The next bus driver arrived, preparedly grumpy, and told us we cannot take the bicycles on the bus. I protested that we had called the station to confirm. He said no, and led me to a notice stuck behind two other notices on the wall of the station. I insisted that we have to go. Eventually, he relented and we squeezed Schopper and Rocker into the bay and the bus headed out. Being on the road improved the driver's mood, and he even brought us to Porto Torres. Kiran had a good lesson in dealing with adversity, but he still thinks panic is a good option as a response.

After we ensured sufficient ball catching had occurred in Porto Torres, we ate our last gelatos for the trip and boarded the ferry back to France.

Kiran rode on to the ferry in style. A style he had earned. He had ridden out of his village for the first time a couple of weeks ago. Here we had reached the south of Sardinia, having covered 590 km by bicycle. Great start to a cycle touring career!

It felt like a month has passed, though the calendar says it's only been nine days here. It's a side-effect of living along the dimension of effort instead of time. And this felt like a month of stunning beaches and challenging hills and playing ball. What a great island!

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