Etna burst into our view as we explored Taormina’s Teatro Greco early one April morning. The day’s clear skies allowed us to look out across from this large amphitheatre and notice how the volcano formed a marvellous and deliberate backdrop through the semi ruined red brick stage walls. The Greek colonists certainly a had sense of place and made the most of the peak and its domination of eastern Sicily’s skyline. Two thousand years later its presence also acted as beacon – this time in fulfilling our day’s aim of appreciating a major reason for visiting the island.
Driving anti-clockwise around the Parco d. Etna allowed a plan of seeing how far we could actually get into the heart of Etna to be hatched. As our steady passage along a somewhat haphazard route succeeded in drawing us closer towards Etna, all seemed to bode well as we strained our necks along unhindered views of the still snow caped peak. But more and more we bumped into the consistent problems of vague road signs & our poor navigational skills and as such we found ourselves failing to penetrate very far into the park at all, apart from a few impassable trails near Bronte. Even at this point our first lava flows, whether hundreds of years old or more recent, looked impressive as their long since cooled remains lie amid the trails of destruction wrought across the surrounding countryside. Walking on top of these flows felt like walking out onto the remains of a burnt out BBQ – the crunching steps sounded much like the point where the charcoal can be crumbled into nothing and lacks any density.
Time and lack of progress soon concluded that heading inward from the north west was going to fail and as an alternative we struggled round to the southern entrance at Belpasso. Finally, after passing through a number of grey, industrial communities we started to get drawn in towards the dwarfing centre. We moved up through kilometres of ever switching roads, across grander lava flows and on past a more disturbed countryside. Our road finished at Cantoniera d’Etna (a mere 1881 m above sea level) and we crossed up on to a landscape that looked like a cross between the moon and a war hardened battlefield. Varying craters from previous eruptions littered the scenery, whilst the main peak stood away up another 1500 meters. Even at this level heat and steam still rose, whilst swirling winds and eerie silences added to the atmosphere and only machines being used to repair the most recently damaged roads broke the spell.
Etna’s continual eruptions have generated huge outpouring of ash, which over time has settled as dust into everywhere. We noticed that it covered the remainder of the winter’s snow and formed much of a crater we clambered up to get a better view of the quickly clouding over peak. Walking up such dusty surroundings made staggering across a sandy beach in heavy boots seem easier, as each step gained cost us half a stride backwards. Our calf muscles ached for a respite by the time we reached our wind blown crater rim…
Once back in breath there was time to enjoy the stunning views – south through the hazy sunshine towards the eastern coast of Sicily and round behind ourselves and up to towards the now almost shrouded summit. Our photographic urges found us trying to capture the surrounding colours of a fired furnace contrasted reds, yellows & deep charcoals and across the horizon toward the remnants of a chairlift which had been left upright, like hairs on the back of a hand. Down below many of the restaurants and administration buildings had either been completely brushed aside or remained semi submerged within the lava flows! These sights left me wondering how such a natural force can discharge so much power and toss aside all human activities with disdain!
Such was the magnetism of Etna and its surroundings that it was with some reluctance and much lateness that we found ourselves moving on from this step of our Mediterranean tour. However when looking to fulfil the ever present needs of food and accommodation, even Etna’s charms could only sway for so long…
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This beautiful cottage that dates
from 1614 has been converted to a Youth Hostel. Thanks to fellow Globetrotters
Jeanie Copland’s organisation, we met in the middle of National
Trust land with Polesden Lacey estate in front of us. Those who arrived
on time had the pleasure of starting the weekend at the Pilgrim pub in
Dorking. The two who were late put up their tents in the dark, having
a spot of trouble when the tents kept sliding down the steep slope.