By the time we first sighted Sardinia, the season was already deep into summer. We had been living aboard for months, moving steadily through the Mediterranean, our days shaped by the wind, our nights by the anchorages we found along the way. The island appeared on the horizon as a rugged line of granite and green, promising new waters to sail and new harbours to explore. Sardinia had always been more than just another stop on our chart, it was a place we had been imagining since the start of the voyage.
Our first landfall was Poltu Quatu, tucked into the north-east coast, where the water glowed in shades of blue we had only seen in photographs. The harbour was alive with summer energy, yet just beyond it lay quiet anchorages where we could slip into the rhythm of island life. It was here we began to understand why sailors return to Sardinia year after year.
From Poltu Quatu we began our way south, tracing the island’s eastern edge. Each day brought a different stretch of coastline – cliffs plunging into deep water, long arcs of beach, and small fishing harbours tucked out of sight until we were almost upon them. Santa Maria Navarrese was a highlight, its small marina a peaceful refuge where evenings were spent walking the waterfront and mornings were for swimming in clear, calm shallows.
Further along, the sail to Villasimius felt like slipping into a postcard. The headland shelters a natural harbour where turquoise waters meet pale sand, and evenings are filled with the scent of salt and pine drifting across the bay. We stayed longer than planned, letting the days stretch, knowing the southern tip of the island – and a change in pace – waited just ahead.
Cagliari was our introduction to Sardinia’s southern coast – a working port, a historic city, and a lively meeting place for sailors from all over. We moored in the heart of the harbour, where the sounds of the city blended with the creak of our lines. Days ashore were filled with markets, narrow streets, and long dinners overlooking the water, while evenings back on board were for watching the lights of the city reflect in the stillness.
From Cagliari we crossed to Calasetta on Sant’Antioco, where the pace slowed again. Here the harbour was quiet, the kind of place where you knew the shopkeepers by the second morning, and the sunsets seemed to last for hours. It was the perfect reminder that Sardinia offers as much peace as it does bustle, depending on where you choose to drop anchor.
Turning north brought us to Sardinia’s wilder side. The west coast is less visited by summer sailors, but it holds a beauty that feels untouched. Bosa was our first stop, its pastel houses climbing the hill from the river, with the castle above keeping watch. We tied up along the quayside, the riverbank alive with café tables and the scent of coffee in the morning air.
Further north, Alghero became one of our most memorable harbours of the summer. Enclosed by medieval walls and alive with Catalan influence, the city is a place where history and the sea meet at every turn. We could have stayed a month, dividing our days between exploring the narrow streets and sailing short hops to nearby anchorages where we were often the only boat.
Our final leg brought us back toward the north-eastern corner of Sardinia. Palau welcomed us with its busy ferry traffic and easy access to the Maddalena Islands, a cluster of islets and bays that seem made for sailors. We threaded our way between granite shores and anchored in water so clear it was hard to tell where sea ended and sky began.
Palau also marked a turning point, the close of our Sardinian summer and the beginning of the next stage of our Mediterranean journey. Looking back at the route we had traced, the island felt like a world of its own, rich with contrasts, where every harbour and anchorage had added another layer to our life aboard.
By the time we left, Sardinia had become more than a waypoint. It was weeks of sunrises and sunsets, anchorages both quiet and lively, days under sail that were sometimes effortless and sometimes demanding. The island’s variety, from Poltu Quatu’s glittering water to Bosa’s riverfront calm, gave us more than just miles in the logbook, it gave us a summer we would carry with us long after the sails were furled.
We sailed away knowing we would return, not just to retrace the route, but to find the anchorages we missed and the harbours we had yet to see. For now, Sardinia remains a chapter in our ongoing life afloat, one written in wind, salt, and the clear light of the Mediterranean.
Sailing around Sardinia is a magical experience, where unspoiled beaches, turquoise waters, and rugged coastlines reveal the island’s wild beauty. Sardinia is a paradise for small-boat sailors, with countless hidden coves and secluded anchorages that are perfect for exploring at a leisurely pace. Sardinia’s warm Mediterranean climate, clear waters, and welcoming marinas make it a sailor’s dream, with ample opportunities for snorkeling, swimming, and exploring one of Italy’s most beautiful and untouched coastlines.
"The Maddalena archipelago is the playground of the rich and famous, and it’s easy to see why. There are ten larger islands and fifty-five smaller ones, all nestled in an area of crystal clear water, with wall-to-wall sunshine and pristine, Caribbean-style beaches. Take one of the most exclusive development projects in the world, the Costa Smeralda, paid for by the Aga Khan and friends, add a never-ending stream of ‘A’ list celebrities, together with the world’s largest superyachts, and you get the picture. However, this picture only applies to the summer months. For the rest of the year, it is an empty paradise that can be explored by poorer people without any restrictions."
"Calasetta was a revelation. Although it was totally unlike anywhere that we had ever been before, it immediately felt like home. The town was very basic. The houses were mainly low and white and had a kind of Arab or North African feel to them. There was no fancy architecture, no public parks nor any decorative areas at all. It was very hot and dry, and the vegetation was mainly scrubby. There were palm trees and cactus plants everywhere, broken up by the occasional burst of outrageously bright colours from a range of exotic looking flowers. Wall lizards and geckos were plastered against the walls, everywhere you looked. There was nothing we could really put a finger on, but there was a feeling of warmth and comfort about the place that enveloped us straight away and made us realise we were somewhere special."
