PERSONAL JOURNEYS; In Sardinia, Memories Come Floating Back

ON a mid-September day in the Maddalena archipelago, off the northeast shore of Sardinia, autumn still felt far off. The temperature hovered around 85 degrees, but a light Mediterranean wind kept our sailboat moving briskly and the ship's captain, Luca Imbagliazzo, and me pleasantly cool. At Spargi, one of the many undeveloped islands that make up the national park that spans the archipelago, we anchored at Cala Conneri, a small white sand cove protected by large boulders on each side. There were no other boats, and I dived into a perfectly clear turquoise sea. I first visited Sardinia as a child in the 1970s. My parents had always insisted that ''the only way to see Sardinia is by boat,'' and, indeed, they owned a gorgeous sailboat that they docked over many summers in Porto Cervo, on the northern coast of the island. I remember fondly the crystal-clear water where you could see every detail of your toes, even when waist deep in the salty sea. We would moor ourselves in deserted coves like the one in Spargi, and I would swim to the beach in the company of our three small dogs, flopping with them on the powder-soft white sand. They were my constant companions; after a number of near drownings, I was periodically harnessed to the mast along with them during the more choppy stretches. We'd all look anxiously toward the horizon as the boat would start to tilt alarmingly; my father, normally a sensible man, seemed to have an uncanny way of guiding us into storms rather than away from them. Now that I have returned as an adult to live in Italy, I am slowly reclaiming those childhood spots with my son, now almost 2 years old. Some turned bittersweet after my father died. When I revisited Sardinia and La Maddalena a few years back, I would find myself looking wistfully for our boat's name among the portside yachts (the boat was sold soon after his death in the early '80s, and in 1983 we moved full time to the United States). The mythical island was wrapped up in a memory of a man I lost too early. But my travel preferences have also changed. Along with the happy memories of swimming and exploring the coastline are the ones of being in tight quarters with a family of big personalities for months at a time (a few times my sister and I took refuge in the dinghy when parental tiffs broke out). Daytime boat rides are quite enough for me now, and I prefer the sense of control that comes with planning an itinerary that mixes time on land and sea. A hotel room at night is more comfortable for me than sleeping below deck, especially with a squirmy toddler and a seasick husband in tow. But despite its picture-perfect seaside spots, Sardinia has suffered from both overdevelopment in certain places and, in others, a lack of the sort of hotel options that appeal to me as an adult. Until recently, the only good ones were those clustered around the sparkling Costa Smeralda, where celebrities and Italian A-listers convene in August. (Many of their yachts have the kind of amenities and staff usually found at five-star hotels, which partly explains the limited choice in lodging.) But despite their great natural beauty, the island's many other parts are not well known, especially to American tourists. That is beginning to change. It's because of recent hotel openings that I have started to rediscover the island's other regions, especially in the northern, less-visited section of the island. La Maddalena Hotel and Yacht Club, where I stayed during my September visit, is a 100-room property that has taken over the island's former Boat Arsenal and caters to a clientele who, like me, wants that mix of comfort and sea access. Boat excursions can be booked during the day from the adjacent marina. They run from a vintage sailboat for 12 to a smaller motorized dinghy. The property also has plenty of land-based amenities -- a spa, a gym, two restaurants -- and a beautiful wood-deck pool area that looks out over the water. Despite a somewhat corporate vibe, it suited my purposes well. And it is a gateway into one of Italy's most naturally beautiful areas.