You know that whole business about taking a ferry across the River Styx in afterlife? Well, that’s all wrong.

First of all, it’s not a river but two seas. The Ligurian and the Tyrrhenian. Also, don’t bother with placing those Euro coins on your eyes. They’ll happily take plastic. The ferries sail from Civitavecchia and Genoa. As you already know, we took the latter.

Another important misconception. The Elysian Fields. That’s code for the highlands and valleys surrounding Sardinia’s Monte Corrasi. But even that is a bit twisted. Pockets of hell await those guilty of deadly sins.

All of the above only concerns souls travelling there on two wheels, of course.

Island Unseen

Riding within a 75km radius of Cagliari has been great. The sea side rumbles, in particular, gave us a good sense of the southern quarter of the island. We also got a great introduction to the northwest and west by riding from Porto Torres to the capital taking in the breathtaking sights of the coast between Alghero and Bosa. And yet all these outings still left us with large swaths of the island largely unexplored. Unacceptable, said the restless in us.

And so we set our sights on Oliena, a gateway to the outdoors and many an archeological wonder. About 200km north from Cagliari as the crow flies, this town of six thousand sits on the northern slopes of Monte Corrasi and a stone’s throw from the iconic Valle di Lonaitto. Beppe, our Cagliarian host, rated the area four fingers and a thumb pinched together and kissed for emphasis.

The plan: two and a half days. 1 day to get there, 1 day to explore, 1/2 day to get back.

Thru Laconi to Oliena

Saturday morning preparations. Excited? Understatement. Buzzing!

A relaxed day requires a lot of soon-to-be-wasted time so we got an early start. By 9:20 am we were not only geared up and caffeinated, but the gas attendant on the side of the autostrada just north of town was done feeding our beasts E5 rated liquified dinosaur bone.

All four bellies full, we pointed the steeds north toward Laconi. It would be a warm day in Cagliari, but we were heading for the mountains. Over the following hour, as we rode up and down rolling hills not unlike those we’ve seen around Barumini, the cloud cover grew and the temperature dropped from 14C to 12C. We expected to see a low of 10C early afternoon at the highest mountain pass and dressed accordingly.

Relaxed being the operative word of the day, we paused for our now ritual coffee and cornettos in Mandas, only some 50 plus kilometers up the road. Ordinary town, first open coffee shop with a terrasse. They call them bar in Italy for some reason. Probably because both pastries AND alcohol are served. Half my vices attended to in a single establishment. Love it.

Sitting at a table outside, part sun, part shade, I gently introduced Min to TET. Naturally, the acronym drew a blank at first. Stands for the Trans Euro Trail, I said. No sooner did I utter the last word than the alarm bells went off. No, no. It’s not that kind of trail. Fire roads, really gentle. I tried to reassure her. She took a deep breath, still unconvinced. We’d only do 15km of it, a taste. The rest would be highway. Ok, she said after a brief pause.

In the end, I was rescued by the marmalade in the cornettos. Reminded us of the croissants we had in a little kiosk in Olympia, WA twenty years earlier. Warm and fuzzy.

Laconi, our mid-journey destination, was to serve a dual purpose. One, a lunch stop, two, our connection to TET. The road several kilometers before the town gets very curvy and you can see your destination perched up above as you get progressively closer. Very picturesque and dramatic, but no lunch. Everything seemed closed. You learn to expect as much on a Sunday in Italy, but this was Saturday.

Bad AI. Very bad. Hungry Min, Igor scared.

Well, might as well try to find TET.

Ever tried getting on a ski lift where the whole contraption consists of a single large gauge wire running up the mountain? This might have been an Iron Curtain only thing. You’d pull up to the running wire on your wooden skis, work up enough courage to grab onto it with your bare glove and hoped it wouldn’t slap you in the face in the process. From then on, it was hold on for your dear life. The point? Getting onto TET midway along the way without much intel on the surface conditions can be a similar experience.

Just look at the photo above. A nicely packed trail surface with a little water runoff on the left. Best part – took only one wrong turn outside of town to find it. Practically poetic. Yours truly was happy as a clam.

A little flat and not much wheel spin, true, but we’d still get our pink TET badges. What’s more, we’d be back on asphalt in 15 minutes. Min wouldn’t even break a sweat.

Right.

Now consider the images above taken some 45 minutes later. That caked mud on the side of the Giant Loop tool bag? Yes, that’s some 75cm above ground. And that black thermal jacket hanging on the handlebars of the T7 that had to be turned inside out for drying? You got it, 100% perspiration. Min’s body language? You don’t need help with that one.

Here. This should fill in some of the blanks.

And if not, this clip certainly will.

May this teach you some respect for the TET, you desert old man. At the very least, get rid of those goddamn Pirelli Scorpion STRs they put on the T7s.

Very devious the Pirellis. A joy in the twisties and rain, they surprise you with a tenacious grip on hard packed dirt and rock then dump you in the first mud puddle or sand bank. Should have known better. I got rid of them immediately after getting my Tenere back home. They were pretty good to me these first 2500km in Italy, but the mud dance was intolerable. Had Metzeler Karoo 4s mounted on the T7 the day after we returned to Cagliari.

Min’s Mitas cut through most puddles like butter, by the way. Most.

Anyway, back to the trip.

Our tee-shirts still soaked with sweat and tails between our legs we eventually managed to find a hop off point from the TET and rolled back onto a secondary highway flinging mud at any car that dared to get within a few feet off us.

As we rode on, we soon realized that we were so caked in mud that entering any respectable establishment or even a regular grocery store would pose a problem. And no, every little village in Sardinia does NOT have a self-serve car wash. In short, hunger and starvation. Fortunately, we found inspiration in a large water puddle we found outside of the town where we experienced our first dose of mud humiliation.

We completed the spiritual cleansing in the mountains some forty minutes later parking our bikes right in front of a roadside fountain collecting runoff from the hills above. Surrounded by spring greenery and drenched in the afternoon sun, the experience was cathartic. Lost in the moment, no photos.

Thus reborn, the gods graced us with passage to the Elysian Fields, which we entered through the provincial capital of Nuoro having just gone through a thousand mountain curve Nirvana.

We found our weekend home about a half hour later, just before sunset. The views of the Sardinian Olympus otherwise known as Monte Corrasi were unexpected but more than appreciated.

They even threw in a herd of Satyrs in the deal, pre-transformation.

The stables and the horsemen’s quarters.

Elysian Fields

Day two. Exploration.

So much to see. So much to ride.

I laced my writing with Greco-Roman mythology for the sheer fun of it, of course, but it isn’t hard to imagine that life on this island, within its valleys and on the mountain slopes, was all the inspiration the ancients needed to weave their tales of gods and mortals in the first place. From the point of view of a rider, and an ADV rider based in the high desert of the western US in particular, Sardinian Oliena falls in the same category as Moab in Utah or Telluride-Ouray-Silverton in Colorado. One significant difference. Where the American counterparts offer endless trails and decent asphalt, the Oliena triangle (including Nuoro and Orgosolo) treats you to epic rides of both kinds. Off-road and on-road.

The map above shows the exploratory riding that we barely got through in a day. 90% on-road, 10% off-road. Like Utah and Colorado, you won’t see everything in one day. It will take years. The asphalt sections are pretty quick to explore and rich in smiles per kilometer. The twisties are tight and unending, the views vast, bucolic and humbling. If you’re lucky enough to come back in a month or a year, it will still take you several repeat rides down most of these roads before you start ignoring what you see and simply have fun leaning the bike.

And the roads, they’re something. I love the Million Dollar Highway between Silverton and Ouray as much as the next could-have-been-a-race-driver on a tourist free day, but these merit their own category. The roads are narrow and unpredictable, surfaces change on a dime and goats and potholes are to be expected behind just about any turn. Much more… engaging.

Alright, ’nuff said. Let the photos, clips and maps tell the rest of the story. I’ll stick to annotations.

First up, SP18 north from our Airbnb. Complete fluke, I just googled the nearest gas station. We had it all to ourselves for about 15 minutes.

Continuing on, SP46 south with Mount Corassi in the foreground. We’re on our way to Lanaitto.

Same but closer, just before backtracking east toward Su Gologone.

Entering Valle di Lanaitto.

Same, rock formations reminiscent of Bandelier and Jemez Springs, NM.

In the valley. Packed dirt with potholes. We ended up in a shepherd’s hut at one point looking for lunch. Another missed photo-op.

The riding in the valley is low key and relaxing. Protected area. Not as strict as a national park in the US, but not inviting any wild antics either.

Somewhere between Mamoida and Orgosolo. The SP22 is one of the most moto worthy roads we explored in the region.

Here’s a pristine waterfall on video, on the the side of the SP22 by Supramonte.

One of the many sheep encounters. Didn’t mean to terrorize.

East of the SP22 lies the Supramonte, crisscrossed by unending network off-road trails in a range of difficulties. Based on our explorations, I’d say the region skews toward enduro and motocross further confirmed by our apres-mud rider sightings in Oliena proper.

Back in New Mexico, I use my Tenere like a dirt bike and would be tempted to take these on. Here, we’re a week away from our Sicilian ferry, bike needed to stay in one piece. And, it was still wearing the Pirellis.

Here’s a short clip of us exploring Supramonte.

If you only have the time for one OMG road experience when visiting the region, just make it the SS129 (bottom of photo, hugging the mountain). For us, it was an accidental discovery, we were looking for a grocery store on a Sunday. Best times to ride – an hour before sunset or an hour after sunrise, westbound in the morning, eastbound in the evening. The thrill ride runs between Nuoro and a random spot 20km later when Mount Corrasi fades from view. We did it three times. Mind blowing.

The Return

Our return route turned out to be a most pleasant surprise. This is the route I had initially chosen for going north to Oliena based solely on its rich topography, but later decided to make a part of our return journey instead. Knowing what we know today, this would be my preferred way of going between Cagliari and Oliena, north or south. It’s about an hour longer than the western autostrada, but none of it will put you to sleep. As relaxing as it is stunning. Possibly one of the nicest continuous 200km strips of relatively fast moving highway I’ve ridden anywhere.

On the map above I’ve highlighted the area we’ll definitely want to explore in much more detail on our next visit. Based both on what we saw from the highway and what we read later.

A few kilometers above Lanusei. We need to get our artist in residence a telephoto lens. Working on it.

And here’s a brief video from the ride down. Doesn’t really do it justice, but does show a few landscapes.

Till next crossing.