When having a local guide becomes vital

I have always believed that a foreign country is best experienced with the help of local guides. By "guide" I don't mean necessarily tour operators - if you are lucky enough to have friends living in that foreign country, problem is solved.

In general, I think a local guide is important because they will help travelers dig deeper into a foreign society, avoiding them possible time-wasting in the lookout for the most worthwhile spots, especially in the case of a short trip.

However, sometimes contacting a local guide becomes "mandatory". My previous post (I know, long time ago, apologies, I've been busy writing) was about my trekking weekend in Europe's deepest canyon gorge, Su Gorroppu, in Sardinia's Supramonte. I went trekking, and I had my local guide. With "local" here I mean a guy who lives in Dorgali, a town near Su Gorroppu, and who's been going to the canyon since he was a child.

I'm from Sardinia myself, and I would never try to go there alone. Apparently, though, some dare. And get lost. Now, getting lost in a city is not a big deal. Getting lost in Supramonte *is* a major deal.

In the regional newspaper, L'Unione Sarda, I read an article which has a hilarious twist. Well, hilarious for who doesn't have anything to do with it. A while ago, the local rescue team (usually the local guides I've contacted myself) went to Su Gorroppu to look for a tourist (from Sardinia) who got lost and was never found, since December 27th. While looking for him, the rescuers found, by a very fortunate incident, a Japanese tourist who lost his way and couldn't manage to call for help. In some areas in the mountains, there's no mobile coverage.

Last week, the same rescue team was called again - it seems like these guys work during the day to bring tourists down the canyon and during the night to look for the "independent" ones.

Anyhow, they were asked to find two German tourists and they found three: one had been wandering about, lost, for two days and nobody knew about it.

Arriving close to the mountains, from the highway, the effect is one of astonishment: those massive rocks command the view. I'm usually more a "sea-person", but that landscape was truly overwhelming, so I can understand that for mountain-lovers it's a challenge not to be missed.

However, the best advice I can give, is to pay extra attention not only in these mountains in Sardinia, but in general, every time travelers want to undertake similar adventurous trips.

In Sardinia, walking down Europe's deepest canyon

Su Gorroppu, Dorgali

I had been warned it was tough, but in line with Sardinian stubbornness, I challenged my out-of-shapeness and made my way to Europe's deepest canyon, Su Gorroppu, near Dorgali, Sardinia's eastern coast.

The deal involved parking our car (after a drive along the very edge of a steep cliff) 200 mt above the gorge of the canyon and walking down towards the valley. "It cannot be that difficult," I thought. It didn't take me long to change my mind.

From second one, I had to mind every single step in order to avoid slipping down the cliff. The path bristled with small rolling stones that made it slippery, and bigger boulders that only apparently were stuck in the ground but that actually rolled too. And even the ones that were stuck were slippery because too worn out, for that matter.

The walk started quietly, the members of my group very interested in our guides' explanations, but after a while, all our geologic interest was inevitably fading away. We were too concentrated on placing our feet on the right stones.

The view was overwhelming, every time I looked in front of me I couldn't help but thinking how small man-made wonders are compared to what nature has done.

Being naturally rich in wood, also valuable species such as juniper, the mountains have been the target of former Italian royal family, the Savoia, who, when they colonised the island creating the Sardo-Piedmont kingdom, started a real sack, exploiting the natives and destroying the forests to obtain wood, coal and scented ashes for the houses. Thousands of trees have been cut down, burnt and loaded to the ships on the way to Piedmont. The result has been a huge damage for the environment (and for the local population), and only now little by little the forest is beginning to come back to normal.

In particularly difficult spots, I started cursing myself for having chosen this excursion instead of some other great places Sardinia is full of, and certainly less dangerous. No matter what, I kept shooting, in the hope to come out at least with some good pictures. I saw the woman behind me looking puzzled: "I admire your willingness on photographing!" She told me, sweating.

The route was actually hard, full of trees (the only handhold I could rely on), and very narrow, so we asked our guides: "What if someone gets his ankle sprained?" "No helicopter nor ambulance can manage to get here," was the guides pithy answer. "We leave the weak here, wildlife have the right to eat too!" Drowsy laugh from the rest of the group.

The moments I was getting despondent, I threatened: "That's it, I'm not moving anymore!" Bad choice, really not the case to get lost in the middle of nowhere, I wouldn't have been able to find my way back to the car, I had to keep going, no way out.

Once reached the destination, my fury calmed down, being on the bottom of the canyon was worth our fatigue, and our courage was restored. Good for us, because we were about to do uphill the same route we had just descended from.

I kept shaking all evening, my mood having ranged from panic to discouragement all day. I swore I would never go back again: the day after I had already changed my mind and started planning the next excursion.