Why I swapped a two-hour flight to Sardinia for a two-day journey by train and ferry

Telegraph

25-05-2025

The sea glittered as we cruised into Naples; Ischia to port, Capri to starboard and the camel-humped profile of Mount Vesuvius ahead. We sat on deck in the spring sunshine and considered our good fortune. We weren't on an expensive cruise but an overnight ferry from Sardinia.
When DH Lawrence made a similar journey with his wife in 1921 there were cattle on deck and the crowing of cockerels woke them in their cramped four-berth quarters. By contrast, our quiet twin cabin, high above sea level, had an en-suite shower and a large window.
The cost of the 15-hour crossing, including accommodation, Wi-Fi, four-course evening meal with wine and continental breakfast, was just £160 for two.
Being early April, a time of year that many Italians still call 'winter', there were fewer than 200 passengers on board the ship – Grimaldi Lines' Europa Palace – with capacity for nearly 2,000.
I was travelling back from Sardinia to the UK after a week's holiday with friends. For over two decades now I've chosen not to fly; preferring slower travel. It had taken me 22 hours by train and ferry to reach Sardinia, which I had spread out over two days.
Although sleeper trains are having a renaissance across Europe, I prefer to travel by day then check into a hotel for a good night's rest and the chance of some sightseeing before continuing the journey.
On day one, a Saturday, I travelled on the Eurostar to Paris, leaving at lunchtime, before taking a first-class seat on the top deck of a high-speed TGV for three hours to Marseille, and arriving at my hotel, the Mercure Centre Vieux Port, just after 9pm.
On Sunday morning, I walked to the vibrant old port, not to catch a ferry – that wasn't until the evening – but to sightsee. A glorious food market was setting up and tour boats were heading out to the nearby Frioul archipelago.
I hiked to the basilica of Notre Dame de la Garde, for views over the city, to the islands and Château d'If. Later, I swam in the bracing sea and enjoyed a cold beer at a buzzy outdoor cafe in the fishing neighbourhood of Vallon des Auffes. Then it was an hour's afternoon train (£15) along the craggy limestone coast to the port of Toulon, where I took an overnight ferry – £80, including cabin, Wi-Fi and breakfast – to Sardinia.
First stop was Ajaccio in Corsica, where dawn rays gilded snow-capped mountains. The only other English voices I heard on board came from a couple from Harrogate who were taking their camper-van to Sardinia for a three-week island tour.
Sixteen hours after departing Toulon, we arrived in the northwestern Sardinian port of Porto Torres at midday, and I headed to my guesthouse, Affittacamere da Priscilla. Rosa was my host, with whom I practised Italian.
She told me how to find the best nearby beach, Balai, and I was soon flopped on white sand lapped by a gin-clear sea.
The next morning it was just a ten-minute walk to the train station for a three-hour ride (£17) through the verdant heart of Sardinia to Cagliari, where I met up with my friends.
Six of us enjoyed a week of spring sun and eating and drinking by the beach. Away from our sea-view villa, we wandered around the hilly capital, Cagliari; up marble steps to the bastion that DH Lawrence somehow found 'dreary' and to the city's archaeological museum with its fascinating Bronze and Iron Age sculptures and figurines.
We ambled through narrow streets, and at the cathedral – which Lawrence describes as 'baroque and sausagey' – I climbed 80 steps to the top of the bell tower for views across rooftops to briny, flamingo-dotted lakes and the sea. Occasionally there was the scent of orange blossom. We dined al fresco at a restaurant – Impasto – in a square shaded by ficus trees.
For the long journey back to the UK, my friend Sue joined me. We joked about the number of animals we might take. There is the option of up to ten pets per passenger on Grimaldi Lines. Dog owners exercise pooches on the top deck, where staff in high-vis vests mop up puddles of urine. There's also a small swimming pool (for humans, presumably) but, being early in the season, it was empty.
Less than an hour after the ferry docked in Naples, we were sitting on the restaurant terrace of Hotel San Francesco al Monte with morning coffee and a Vesuvius view. We nosed around the former monastery, where there were strange cave-like tunnels and a meeting room set as if for the Last Supper.
There was still a full afternoon to explore the city, so we walked down through the Spanish quarter, its
narrow lanes overhung with washing. We stepped into doorways as cars squeezed past and ate at a little pizzeria as Vespas and pedestrians brushed by.
In the old town, we hoped to see the veiled Christ sculpture at Cappella Sansevero but it was fully booked. The orange trees and painted tiles of the Santa Chiara cloister provided consolation. The daringly modern facade of the 15th-century church of Gesù Nuovo astounded me.
The next morning, before breakfast, I took a funicular up to Morghen, near the hulking presence of St Elmo's castle. I walked back to the hotel, down wide paved steps, a view of Vesuvius framed by graffiti-daubed buildings, a street cleaner sweeping away beer bottles from night-time revellers.
Then we took a taxi to Naples Central station for our plush Frecciarossa train to Milan, which reached speeds of 185mph. In first class a steward trundled down the aisle with an espresso machine dispensing caffeine shots to a mostly business-suited clientele heading to Rome.
There were views of snow-topped Apennine mountains, the chalky blue Tiber and rolling countryside with cypresses and hilltop villages. We passed under Florence without stopping and before long we arrived at Milan Central.
Over 400 miles had whizzed past in four hours and 40 minutes; the train was just one minute late. In DH Lawrence's day, the Italian railway was 'infinitely more miserable' than the British. The opposite seems true today.
Our connection to Lugano was waiting.
At Chiasso, Swiss border guards walked through the train. Six hours after leaving Naples, we arrived in Lugano, in the Italian-speaking south of Switzerland, Ticino.
Continental Park Hotel was a handy five-minute walk from the station with views of lakes and mountains.
The next day we had a leisurely breakfast and a stroll in Tassino Park, neighbouring the hotel and full of blossoms. Mountains were wreathed in mist and morning sun sparkled on the lake.
At midday we left on a train to Basel.
The route took us along the shores of Lake Lucerne, where yachts sailed with a backdrop of Alpine peaks. In buttercup-spattered meadows, cows wearing bells grazed. Soon, I imagine, they will be herded up to high summertime pastures.
The route didn't have the drama of the Bernina and Glacier Expresses, with their viaducts, altitude and inclines, but it was gently beautiful, as well as being faster and more straightforward.
At Basel, we changed for a train to Frankfurt. It left 25 minutes late. So much for Swiss punctuality. I went to the buffet car. It was predictably expensive – CHF28 (about £26) for a (large) glass of wine with some antipasti – so I opted for a small bottle of beer (£5).
We reached Frankfurt six hours after leaving Lugano. Here we took a local train to a small town, Hofheim, to visit old friends. Two days later we continued our journey: a comfortable three-hour train ride from Frankfurt to Brussels followed by the Eurostar to London.
Sardinia itself was glorious, but it was the travel there and back that was the adventure. You don't often say that about flying.
How to do it
The total cost for my journey from Banbury to Sardinia and back was approximately £500, including ferries, first-class trains and some meals. This relatively bargain price was mostly thanks to a 'four-day-in-a-month' flexi-pass from InterRail.
I paid just £202 for a first-class pass (compared to £170 for second), meaning comfortable wider seats for train travel of up to 24 hours a day if I wished. Eurostar first class includes preferential check-in and a meal service with wine. Travel to and from your UK home station is included with an InterRail global pass.
Seat reservations are mandatory on some trains – generally the faster ones – and add to the cost (Eurostar first-class reservations cost about £35 each way). On days where I was only making inexpensive train trips (Marseille to Toulon and Porto Torres to Cagliari), I paid for these separately to avoid using a pass day. Reservations for InterRail pass holders on Eurostar can sell out several days or weeks in advance during peak season.