Portoscuso-Bacu Abis. Stage 29

We start at the end, the second to last stage of the trail. We are heading to Bacu Abis, in southwestern Sardinia, where all the main mining activities began in the Sulcis coalfield almost two centuries ago. Right from the start, you get a clear sense of what waits for you along the entire Cammino Minerario di Santa Barbara (CMSB): breathtaking views with volcanic cliffs on the left and on the right the remains of historic mines – the main characters of Sardinian industrial archaeology.

We are on Route 301, the itinerary proposed as part of the “Leg’s Go” initiative to celebrate the tenth anniversary of the Cammino. A 500-kilometer loop divided into 30 stages in the heart of Sardinia’s Historical and Environmental Geomining Park, which traces the region’s millennia-long mining history, from the Neolithic era through the 20th century. The foundation that manages it received this year’s Global Choice Award from Komoot, the world’s largest outdoor community: this is the first time a trail has earned this recognition based on a grassroots vote by the platform’s approximately 50 million users.

The view on the volcanic cliffs along the stretch between Portoscuso and Bacu Abis. © Annie Heine 2026

It is no coincidence that our journey begins in Portoscuso, a place that still bears clearly visible scars from industrial activity in the Portovesme district. Here, Sardinia’s mining history is inextricably intertwined with its more recent past. In the early 1960s, the end of mining operations in the area led to the merger of the major mining companies and to the establishment of the so-called “aluminum hub”, with government intervention. According to Sardegna Industriale, in the year 2000 the major companies operating there – Alcoa Italia, Eurallumina, Portovesme srl (formerly Nuova Samim), Portovesme (formerly Comsal), Carbosulcis, and Enel – employed around 3,600 direct employees, in addition to approximately 2,300 workers in subcontracting and services.

Then, after the major crisis in the 1960s, came yet another turning point in the region’s industrial sector. Thousands of families thus found themselves caught up in a slow but inexorable socioeconomic decline, which has been ongoing since the 1990s. During the same period, rising from the ashes of the mining industry, an idea emerged that would lead to a rebirth: the Geomining Park project, born from the desire of citizens, volunteers and former miners to restore the land after centuries of mining exploitation and to offer an economic alternative through sustainable tourism.

Among the few facilities in Portovesme still in operation, Enel’s “Grazia Deledda” coal-fired power plant remains ready for use. It was supposed to be decommissioned by 2025, in line with European decarbonization targets, but the “geopolitical context” has postponed its closure until 2038. This is stated in the Meloni government’s so-called bill decree, which puts Italy’s last four coal-fired power plants on hold, two of which are in Sardinia. This represents a massive reversal of our country’s current energy profile, in which coal accounts for less than 2%.

After about seven hours of walking, we arrive in the small village of Bacu Abis to rest at a family-run B&B that has a partnership with the Foundation. The owner, a former factory worker, recommends a restaurant just outside town for dinner, which offers a free shuttle service for the pilgrims. Our driver, who also works in the kitchen, tells us that there’s nothing here.

Bacu Abis-Iglesias. Stage 30

In fact, Bacu Abis was extremely rich in lignite, a type of coal that was essential for energy production in the 19th century. Nearly two centuries ago, General Alberto Lamarmora recounted in his “Voyage en Sardaigne” (1875) how he had discovered – while walking, as it happened – what would become Italy’s most important mining district:

«On November 7, 1834, while walking along the road leading from Iglesias to Gonnesa and Terra Segada, I found myself at the eastern foot of the small Mount Lisau, which overlooks the aforementioned village. On the Flumentepido trail, I discovered a fragment of grey sandstone to which a black, carbonaceous substance was adhering; when I tested that substance with a blowtorch, it appeared to me to be a true fossil fuel; my efforts to discover the source of that substance were in vain.»

We walk through the center of Gonnesa and continue on toward what are truly monuments of industrial archaeology: the mines of San Giovanni, Monteponi and Campo Pisano. We feel as if we are in an “elephant graveyard,” amid the skeletal remains of what was once Sardinia’s glorious mining industry, hailed as the nation’s diamond tip at the 1889 Paris World’s Fair.

The Monteponi Mine, a monument to industrial archaeology and a symbol of Sardinia’s resource curse. © Annie Heine 2026

Sardinia, like other regions in Southern Italy, has fallen victim to the resource curse – the paradox whereby countries or regions with an abundance of natural resources, such as minerals and fuels, tend to experience lower economic growth.

The Monteponi mine is perhaps the most emblematic example of this: it was the Kingdom of Savoy that enacted a law in 1840 separating land ownership from the exploitation of underground resources. This allowed the concession for the lead-silver deposits at Monteponi to be granted, directly from Turin, to a group of wealthy entrepreneurs from Turin and Genoa. The same was true for French, German, Austrian, and Belgian investors regarding the rest of the mines in the region. This amounted to the extraction of resources that continues to this day, as seen with offshore wind farms, which are strongly opposed by local communities.

After a brief ride in an old white Fiat Panda – which we got from a man we met near the Mameli laveria – we finally reach the outskirts of Iglesias.

Iglesias-Nebida. Stage 01.

The view from the hilltop, where the Sanctuary of the Madonna del Buon Cammino stands, dominates the entire town of Iglesias. We are at the start of the first stage of the Pilgrimage, the third leg of our itinerary: we pass between the two stone columns engraved with the words “Buon cammino” – the well-known pilgrims’ blessing.

The CMSB Foundation is headquartered right here in the city center, and its president, Mauro Usai, 37, also serves as mayor. Usai is also the president of the Province of Sulcis Iglesiente, the president of the Union of Sardinian Provinces (UPS), and the president of the Ausi Consortium. When we ask him how he manages to juggle everything, he replies: “These roles are compatible and can be combined with one another; they are certainly not at odds with each other and simply serve to bring certain processes under a single governance structure.” 

Usai thus appears to be the worthy successor to Giampiero Pinna – the late founder of the Cammino di Santa Barbara, who passed away in 2022 – who was a geologist, mining executive, regional councilor and a key figure in one of the most famous acts of civil disobedience in Sardinian history: the occupation of Pozzo Sella, at the Monteponi mine.

On November 5, 2000, Pinna went underground and lived for a year in the Sala Argani of Pozzo Sella. His protest called on the Parliament and the government of the time to formally establish the Historical and Environmental Geomining Park of Sardinia and to hire 500 workers who had been laid off by mining companies winding down their operations.

The Park was officially established a year later, on November 6, 2001: “I was 12 years old in that mine, but I was there,” Usai recalls today, evoking the bond with his predecessor thanks to his friendship with the latter’s father, who passed away that same year.

“I can say,” he adds with pride and nostalgia in his voice, “that I’ve seen Giampiero’s journey from start to finish.”

Ten years after its founding, the initiative has succeeded in meeting its most difficult challenge of all: attracting sustainable tourism that respects the region’s cultural identity, natural beauty and lasts year-round.

“What we’ve learned along the way is that, sometimes, the simplest answers are the most effective for the most complex problems,” explains Usai.

According to him, the success of the Trail also stems from the strong symbolic and religious significance of mines, which is present in many European countries and around the world: “Mining culture is an international culture; the symbolism is the same: at every gate leading into a tunnel, we always find two hammers; in every place where mining took place, we find a devotion to Saint Barbara.”

In addition to the various churches dedicated to worship scattered along the route, visitors can explore the Cave of Santa Barbara: a large natural cavern discovered in 1952 by miners after they demolished a rock wall inside the San Giovanni mine, one of Sardinia’s oldest mines. According to Usai, beyond its religious significance, Saint Barbara represents a deep attachment to one’s homeland and history: “We are inextricably linked to her because each of us has a relative or neighbor who worked in the mines and who, in moments of despair, offered a prayer to Saint Barbara.”

View of the ruins of the mining village of Monte Scorra, in the heart of the Mediterranean Scrub, along the route between Iglesias and Nebida. © Annie Heine 2026

This is the longest and most strenuous leg of the journey: we walk about 20 km along paved roads, carrarecce (cart tracks) and mulattiere (mule trails) dating back to the Phoenician-Punic and Roman periods (800 B.C.–650 A.D.). These are the same routes miners used to travel from their homes to mining sites or to transport ore with carts and pack animals. The ground beneath our feet is full of shades ranging from red to purplish, depending on the minerals present. For the night, we find lodging at the traditional Posada (“small inn” in Sardinian) in Nebida, a former barracks converted into a hostel managed by the Foundation.

Nebida-Masua. Stage 02.

Amid the intense fragrance of asphodels – the typical Sardinian flower from which a refined honey is made – we walk alongside Valeria Basciu, 32, a young woman originally from Carbonia. With a degree in natural sciences and a background as an international aid worker, Valeria has traveled and worked in various countries around the world, but this is the first time she has visited her homeland in this way: “It’s a good way to rediscover our roots and to be more aware of our own history too,” she tells us as we climb the limestone cliffs amid goats and sheep.

Valeria Basciu, 32, on the Santa Barbara Mining Trail. © Annie Heine 2026

Just outside the center of Carbonia lies the Serbariu Coal Mine, one of Italy’s most important energy resources between the 1930s and 1950s. Both of Valeria’s grandparents, Emanuele Basciu and Antioca Frau, worked there: her grandfather, a laborer, loaded coal onto carts, while her grandmother, a sorter in the laveria, separated the coal from other rocks and waste. Like many boys and girls at the time, her grandmother began working at 13-years-old and continued until she got married at 17-years-old.

Her grandfather, on the other hand, who had been hired after the war, left his job following an accident: “This also sparked my grandmother’s anger and despair because working in the mine came with certain benefits,” Valeria explains today, “like the house on Via Puglie, which was part of a series of homes built specifically for the mine workers.”

The comforts of a heated home, an education for their children and a massive media campaign were used by the fascist regime to convince men and women from across the island and the rest of Italy to move to Carbonia. Today, that same city – with less than half of its former population of 60,000 – has become a symbol of Sardinia’s depopulation. “Not enough is being done to enable young people to return,” comments Valeria, who will soon be leaving for a new aid mission in Brazil.

If you want to understand the conditions under which a Sardinian miner worked, we recommend taking the guided underground tour at the Museo del Carbone. Here, in settings faithfully reconstructed with machinery from that era, it’s almost possible to imagine what it meant to work 16-hour shifts underground, in the dark, illuminated only by the dim light of lanterns and amid the deafening din of the tunnels, which were barely eighty centimeters high. During the period of energy self-sufficiency – imposed by the Fascist regime after the invasion of Ethiopia in 1935 – up to one million metric tons of sub-bituminous coal were produced annually from the Sulcis deposits in the towns of Carbonia and Gonnesa.

Valeria’s grandparents, Emanuele Basciu and Antioca Frau, at their 50th wedding anniversary. © Valeria Basciu’s personal archive

After about four hours of walking, we arrive in Masua, just in time to grab a drink at Zio Lello’s kiosk and visit Porto Flavia. It’s a shipping port for ore extracted from the surrounding mines owned by the Belgian mining company Vieille Montagne.

Built in 1924 by the Venetian engineer Cesare Vecelli, Porto Flavia – named after his eldest daughter – is perhaps the most spectacular monument to industrial archaeology along the entire route and was revolutionary in its engineering for its time.

Deep within the limestone cliff, overlooking the sea, miners dug two superimposed tunnels: the upper one – where the extracted ore was unloaded after being transported from the mines via a Decauville railway – and the lower one, from which the ore was loaded directly onto ships at anchor using a retractable conveyor belt. Between the two tunnels were nine enormous silos for storing the material, each capable of holding up to ten thousand tons. This system made it possible to load the ore directly onto ships in just a few hours, rather than carrying it on their backs for days on end to the warehouses on the island of San Pietro.

Sunset over Pan di Zucchero in Masua. © Annie Heine 2026

The view of the sunset from Porto Flavia is incredible: the tunnel emerges right above the sea and overlooks the Pan di Zucchero sea stack. It’s hard to believe that, in the face of such beauty, people once worked so hard for the country’s industrial development. Valeria is moved because she now sees this place – with the same eyes as those of us who aren’t from here – a place whose historical roots she had lost track of for some time: “A region’s roots feel a bit more distant if you don’t nurture them in your daily life,” she reflects as we head home, “and this walk has allowed me to rediscover them through contact with nature, making me feel a sense of pride in my homeland once again.”

Born out of a grassroots movement, the Cammino di Santa Barbara honors the hard work of entire generations of Sardinian miners and their families, the young people who have chosen to stay in their homeland, and those who explore it with fresh eyes when they return. It is a gesture of recognition by a community that has decided to reclaim its millennia-old environmental, cultural, historical, and social heritage and make it accessible to everyone: Sardinians and visitors alike.

Credits

Author

Alessia Melchiorre

Photos

Annie Heine

Editing

Sofia Turati, Vittoria Torsello, Savin Mattozzi

Visual Editor

Ciro Giso

Coverpage

Miniera di Masua © Annie Heine