I am an artist and one who, not surprisingly, is drawn (no
pun intended) to the sun, the sea and a beautiful landscape.
Now, obviously, you don't need to be an artist to
appreciate those sorts of things. I, on the other hand, do
like to make paintings of them and it is because of that I
would like to speak of a group of islands that lie off the
north coast of Sicily. They are called the Aeolian islands
and there are seven of them, steeped in history and wound
into the fabric of myth. That, as they say, is another story,
for now I would like to explore briefly only two of the seven
islands and the first of those is called Stomboli.
Arriving at a small jetty, a long beach of black volcanic
sand stretches away to your right and the tangle of tiny
streets of Stromboli village lie ahead. Jasmine and
bougainvillaea ramble over the garden walls, the narrow lanes
are lively with scooters and “ape” a type of tiny
three wheeled truck. Walkers are there, kited out for the
rocky paths to the volcano summit. Behind you the spiky
outline of islets break the blue water.
It takes about an hour, walking along a pleasant road through
fields, from the square in front of a pretty church, at the
top of the village, to the lower slopes of the mountain.
Another couple of hours on a steep but well-marked path
brings you to the peak, 918 meters up and as you arrive the
craters explode dramatically, shooting stones and hot ash
high into the air. This happens every twenty minuets or so
and it's quite safe as long as you stay on the paths,
strong shoes are a good idea, the ground is hot. These
regular explosions give rise to the term ” strombolic
action ” which prevents pressure building up to a major
eruption.
By day the view of the other islands is stunning.
Particularly from the high ridge on the southern side. Night
hikes with a guide, or a night boat trip to the north-eastern
side of the island offer spectacular views of the red hot
lava flows and fiery explosions.
From there you board the ferry and eventually arrive at
Alicudi. On the map, if you've got one to hand, it is on
the other end of the group, the most isolated and the next
island that I would like to speak of. Uniquely car free,
Alicudi is a near perfect cone, over six hundred meters high
and only 2.5 kilometres across. The rugged slopes are covered
with huge prickly pear cactus, gorse, carob, olive and wild
apricot trees. Surprisingly, in times not long past, over a
thousand people lived on this tiny island supporting
themselves by growing their crops on narrow terraced fields.
Over the years that number has dwindled and the population is
now only about one hundred and life is quiet. Mains
electricity arrived no more than a decade ago and the major
water supply is still rainfall, caught off roofs and
collected in wells on the terrace of each house. It is
charming and quaint.
Hawks and ravens wheel high above and bright green lizards
dash away as you explore. The sea is very clean and rich with
fish, shrimp and shellfish, and, so the locals tell me, ideal
for snorkelling although I've never done it but, from the
look of it, I could well imagine.
At night you can see the lights off Sicily's north coast,
20 kilometres away and on days when the haze has evaporated,
about this time of year, the snow covered slopes of Mount
Etna are visible, the black summit streaked with red lava.
Colour seems to be the theme of these islands, it really is a
painters paradise, so much so that you don't need to be a
painter or an artist at all to appreciate it. The imagery
around you is just so strong and peaceful at the same time,
the countryside so unspoiled. It is just one of those places.
I have painted in country that is beautiful to the eye but
putting it down on paper can be very difficult. One finds
ones self inventing, a bit of red here, a bit of yellow
there, not because it's in front of your eyes but because
the painting needs it and so you make it up. Alicudi and the
other islands are not like that in the least, the place is
there to paint. The hand runs riot along with the eye. To my
mind, not only an easy place to paint but a pleasure and pure
joy, if for nothing else but to just sit and look. A tiny
little haven almost at the end of Europe.
Murray Hubick is Canadian, now living in Kent in the U.K. As
an artist his time is divided between work in the studio,
teaching art and as much travelling as possible. He is
currently in the process of organising an art excursion to
the islands for the coming Christmas/New year and would
welcome anyone interested to join him in having an espresso
overlooking the sea in the sun on New Years morning.
Murray is happy to answer any questions on Sicily, so please
e-mail him on: murrayr@onetel.net.uk
