Some coastlines protect themselves with gates, others with geography. The Costa Smeralda belongs to the second kind. Beneath the famous line of its hotels and marinas runs a granite pattern that folds back on itself dozens of times, and every fold hides a beach that never appears in the usual photographs.
There are some fifty-five kilometres of shoreline, three and a half thousand hectares between the municipalities of Arzachena and Olbia, protected since 1962 by a consortium founded to safeguard the landscape even before selling it. That early choice — regulating the architecture, respecting the skylines, not building on the beaches — is the reason why today, half an hour from the bars of Porto Cervo, you can still swim in a cove where the only sound is the wind in the junipers.
We have chosen seven of these places. None is truly unknown — nothing is any more — but all of them ask for something in return: a walk, the right time of day, a boat, the patience to leave the car far away. It is exactly this toll that keeps them quiet.
Why the water is that colour
It is worth understanding, because it changes the way you look at these beaches. The emerald green that gives the coast its name is neither an optical effect nor a peculiarity of the water: it depends on what lies beneath. As granite breaks down it produces a very pale, reflective sand of quartz and feldspar; where the seabed is shallow and sandy, light passes through, bounces off the white and returns to the surface with that hue. Where posidonia grows instead — the seagrass that forms underwater meadows — the bottom darkens and the water turns deep blue.
That is why, in the same cove, you see sharply defined bands of colour, almost as if drawn. And why posidonia, often mistaken for dirt in summer when it piles up on the shoreline, is actually the reason these beaches exist: its dead leaves form a natural barrier that holds the sand in place during winter storms. Removing it systematically means losing the beach within a few years.
1. Li Itriceddi, where the scrub meets the water
It lies on the stretch between Cala di Volpe and Liscia Ruja, just before the big beach everyone knows. And that is its advantage: almost everyone drives on. Li Itriceddi is a string of small inlets separated by tongues of rock, with pale, coarse sand that turns pink in the low hours of the day, and a clear seabed that shelves gently. Behind it, the Mediterranean scrub leaves no gaps: juniper, mastic and helichrysum, which in the afternoon scents the whole bay.
It is an early-morning beach, when the water is still and the light comes in from the east. Around eleven the first wave of parasols arrives; around four it leaves, and the cove goes back to being what it was. Walkers can follow the shore south and reach Liscia Ruja in just over twenty minutes, passing from one small bay to the next: it is one of the loveliest seaside walks on the whole coast, and all it requires is shoes that don’t mind getting wet.
Getting there: from the main road to Porto Cervo, take the Liscia Ruja turn-off; leave the car along the road and continue on foot for a few minutes.
2. Cala Petra Ruja, the red stone
The name says it all: red stone. It is the granite, which here has a warm, almost coppery vein and forms two headlands that close the bay like two hands. The result is water that stays flat even when the mistral ruffles the channel outside, and sand mixed with smooth pebbles that crunches underfoot.
Petra Ruja has to be earned. You park in a paid clearing and walk down a dirt track: just a few minutes, but enough to discourage anyone looking for a beach on their doorstep. On the left, the junipers reach right down to the sand and provide the only natural shade, which in August is worth more than any beach service. On the opposite side, beyond the rocks, two or three tiny coves open up where you may well find yourself alone.
It is the right place for snorkelling: a rocky seabed a few metres from the shore, posidonia further out, and visibility that on calm days seems unreal.
Getting there: between Liscia Ruja and Razza di Juncu; paid parking and a short walk along a dirt track.
3. The little beaches of Uscimone, four instead of one
Locals simply call them “the little beaches”, in the plural, because there is no point speaking of them in the singular: they are four scraps of sand tucked one after the other between the rocks, each just big enough for two or three families. There is nothing here — no kiosk, no rentals, no boardwalk — and that is precisely why they still exist in this form.
You reach them along narrow paths that open through the scrub, and choosing which of the four to settle on becomes a small ritual: the first is the easiest to reach and therefore the busiest, the last requires a few more steps over rock and is almost always free. Our advice is to bring everything with you, water included, and to plan your way back while it is still light: at sunset the paths through the bushes are harder to read than they seem.
Getting there: on foot, along the paths that branch off the coast road around Cala di Volpe.
4. Piccolo Romazzino and Fumagalli, behind the curtain
Romazzino is one of the most quoted names on the coast. A few metres further on, a headland divides two much smaller beaches that hardly anyone connects with that name: Piccolo Romazzino and Fumagalli. The same water, the same dazzling white sand, a tenth of the people.
These are afternoon beaches. The slanting light sets the granite aglow and deepens the turquoise, and by six most bathers have already moved on. The headland between them takes a minute to cross on the rocks, and it is a good spot for a dip: the water below is immediately deep and crystal clear.
In all honesty, shelter from the wind here is limited. When the mistral blows hard the sea gets up and the sand flies. On those days it is better to switch to the other side of the coast entirely and look for shelter in the bays facing south-east.
Getting there: from the Romazzino area, on foot along the shore beyond the headland.
5. Cala Liccia, three tongues of sand
Cala Liccia is not one beach but three, set in a stretch of coast that has stayed wild and can only be reached on foot. The landscape is the most authentic seaside Gallura: rocks rounded by the wind, low bushes, not a building in sight. Those who come this far do so for the solitude, and they find it.
The seabed is mixed, sand and rock, and the water has that green-blue tone that gives the whole coast its name. There are no facilities of any kind. There is no shade, except what you can claim by leaning against a boulder in the early afternoon. It is a beach for people who know how to get organised: cool bag, towel, hat, and the discipline to take away everything you brought.
Getting there: on foot only, along a path; closed shoes recommended.
6. Spiaggia del Cervo, which opens only from the sea
There is only one cove on this list that cannot be reached by land at all. Spiaggia del Cervo faces the Nibani islets and opens exclusively to those who arrive by boat: a tender, a hired gozzo, the RIB of a day charter.
You notice the difference immediately. The background noise that comes with every beach reachable by car is missing; what remains is the very shallow water, the pale seabed reflecting light upwards and the dark outline of the islets on the horizon. It is the ideal place for a midday stop: you get off, swim, climb back on board, and the cove stays as you found it.
If you arrive in your own boat, be careful where you drop anchor. The posidonia meadows around this stretch of coast are protected and anchoring on them is forbidden: look for the sandy bottom, pale and recognisable even from the surface, or stay offshore and swim in.
Getting there: by sea only, opposite the Nibani islets.
7. Liscia Renè, the wild side of the north
Heading up towards the northern stretch of the coast, beyond Liscia di Vacca, the landscape changes character: it becomes rougher, more exposed, less tamed. Liscia Renè belongs to this world. It is a wide, lightly built-up bay, with dense scrub running down to the shore and an open horizon over the islands of the archipelago.
It has a quality that more sheltered beaches cannot have: when the sea moves, you see it here. On windy days the waves roll into the bay and the colour of the water layers itself into bands of green and blue you will not forget. In those conditions it is not a place for a quiet swim with children, but it is a place to watch — and the sunsets, with the coast turning westwards, are well worth the wait.
Getting there: on the northern stretch of the coast, beyond Liscia di Vacca; access on foot from the dirt tracks.
How to get around, realistically
The car is the most obvious option and also the most problematic. From mid-July to the end of August the few parking areas near the smaller coves are full by half past nine in the morning, parking along the roads is fined, and access is regulated on several stretches. If you arrive by car you have to accept two simple rules: early, or late.
In the peak months a shuttle service links the main points of the coast with the busiest beaches: it is the smartest solution for Liscia Ruja and the coves you can walk to from there, because it removes the parking problem altogether. Guests staying in a villa with a chauffeur service solve the issue at the root: you are dropped at the start of the path and picked up at an agreed time, without anyone having to give up their swim to go and move the car.
Then there is the sea, which is the right key to reading this whole coast. A hired gozzo, with or without a skipper, opens up in half a day a list of coves that would take a week by land — including places, like Spiaggia del Cervo, that simply do not exist by land. You don’t need a big boat: six metres, a modest engine and a calm day are enough to understand why, historically, people here have always travelled by water.
One last note for walkers. The paths down to these coves are not equipped: they are tracks through the scrub, often over smooth granite that becomes slippery with the wrong soles. Nothing demanding, but flip-flops are not the right gear, and in July it is worth tackling them with water and a hat even when the stated walk is ten minutes.
The rules, written and unwritten
Taking sand, pebbles or shells from Sardinian beaches is prohibited by law, and the penalties are serious: checks are carried out at the airport too, and every year dozens of travellers find out at the gate. It is not a bureaucratic detail. The sand of these coves is a closed ecosystem that does not regenerate, and the colour we came to see depends precisely on what stays where it is.
On beaches without facilities, the unwritten rules apply: no fires, no camping, no music. Pets are allowed only where expressly indicated, and in high season several municipalities in the area restrict single-use plastic and smoking on the beach. These are easy restrictions to respect, and they are the reason these places still make sense.
When to go
June and September are the months when this coast is at its best: the water is already warm or still warm, the light lasts longer, the paths are not crowded and the small coves go back to being small, for the few. July and August remain wonderful but call for strategy: arrive before half past nine, or after five in the afternoon, when the first round of parasols is packed away and the beach empties at the best hour of the day.
The wind, then, decides more than the calendar. With the mistral — the prevailing north-westerly — the north-facing bays become uncomfortable and the ones sheltered to the south-east become perfect; with the sirocco the exact opposite happens. Checking the forecast the evening before and choosing your side of the coast accordingly is the only real secret of the Costa Smeralda: everything else is just beach names.
Because the most beautiful part of this shoreline has never been where the photographs crowd together. It is in those two hundred metres of path between the car park and the sea, where the noise fades, the scrub closes in behind you and the water appears all at once.