There was always a sense of anti-climax about the end of these catch/neuter/return weeks. After the hectic rushing about, the anxiety and general adrenaline buzz, you realised just how much everyone had contributed, even if, at times, tempers were frayed. It seemed strange to sit down to a solitary meal, that evening before I packed my case. Vittorina had invited me to stay for a few quiet days at her apartment in the area of Taormina that gazes towards Etna.
That ever-active volcano is a brooding presence in the lives of many Sicilians. The sight of its glowing summit against the night sky is awe-inspiring. No wonder Mongibello, as the locals affectionately call Etna, has been the subject of many myths. The ancient Greeks believed the mountain housed the workshop of Vulcan, the god of fire and metalwork. Far below, in the depths of the earth, he forged metals in his fiery cave and from time to time expelled the hot, molten liquid into the atmosphere.
Another myth spoke of a 100-dragon-headed monster, son of the earth goddess, Gaia, who rebelled and was trapped by Zeus for thousands of years under Mount Etna. Every now and again, he lost his temper and spewed out impressive flames.
Geological evidence has shown that Etna has been active for more than 2.5 million years. There have been 140 recorded eruptions throughout history, which wins Etna the prize for being the most active volcano in Europe. Like the Hindu god Shiva, the mountain has not only destructive but transforming powers too.
The lava that has engulfed cities and towns and driven people from their homes also produces a rich soil, nurturing a verdant landscape. An excursion to Etna, to experience the amazing views of the island from 3,353 metres (11,000 feet), is probably the first trip on any tourist’s itinerary.
The landscape and the climate change dramatically during the ascent. At first, it is a terrain of fruit trees; in springtime the air is filled with the sensuous fragrance of orange and lemon blossom. Temperatures drop as you go higher. Etna’s vineyards, where the popular vino d’Etna is produced, are vibrant in autumn as the leaves change colour. The area is punctuated by apple orchards, the hazelnut and pistachio, and here you will find the pretty houses of those who live on the slopes of Etna and have learned to understand the ‘wicked witch’, as D.H. Lawrence once described the volcano.
The climb continues into yet another landscape dominated by pine and chestnut trees, until you arrive in what seems to be the surface of the moon, of dormant vents, cooled lava and layers of volcanic ash.
Wrapped up warmly – at the summit of the volcano it becomes chilly on even the hottest summer’s day – you gaze in wonderment at the stunning view spread out before you: a patchwork of villages and beaches far below, as far as Calabria on the toe of Italy.
One of the nicest ways to visit Etna is by taking the Circumetnea, a railway line that covers a 110-kilometre (68-mile) route round the volcano. The railway is an historic line, which has functioned since 1898 and was once used by farmers to reach the fields. Today, that request stop is still available on board. The usual route is to leave from Catania Borgo station and end up at Riposto. The year Andrew and I took the Circumetnea, we decided to do it in reverse. It was a Sunday morning and we were dismayed to discover there were engineering works in progress. A bus journey was involved and added yet more time to the usual three-hour ten-minute journey. However, it was certainly worth it. We felt as if we had stepped back in time, trundling along the one-rail line, as we gazed out on the majestic volcano and admired the lovely surrounding landscape, the typical olive and fig trees.
But it appeared we had been fortunate in managing to get the railway schedules to work. More recently, when we thought we’d like to do the trip again, we were confounded by the eccentric timetable and finally gave it up. We had planned to get on and off at the various stations and do a bit of walking but the leaflet I had picked up from the tourist office contained photographs but no information.
It seemed yet another example of Sicily shooting itself in the foot.