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SICILY 2007 - Week 8 - Etna |
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Etna is a big mountain, 3,350m (10,950 feet) high and covering a surface area of 1,600 square kms. With its smoking summit dominating much of Sicily's eastern skyline, it is also Europe's largest active volcano; in recent years, its craters have become increasingly explosive, with major eruptions in 2001~3.
We made an exploratory foray by travelling on the
Ferrovia Circumetnea, a narrow-gauge railway circling 114 kms around the
Etna foothills to its terminus on the Ionian coast. We feared the train
would be monopolised by coach loads of tourists, but the only other passengers
were local people and school children using the line as regular public
transport out to the remote towns and villages around Etna. The railway
passes through olive and citrus groves, gaining height across Etna's
southern slopes, with superb views of the volcano's snow-covered peaks
(Photo 1).
The line weaves a winding route through a vast and bleakly barren
wilderness of volcanic rubble and lava flows, passing through foothills
towns to reach its highest point at 976m near the i
Relieved
that our night was not disturbed by any volcanic happenings, we signed
up next morning at the Etna Alpine Guides' Association hut for a full
day's climbing around Etna's higher reaches, expensive but the
experience of a lifetime. From Rifugio Sapienza, we gained further
height by cable car and 4WD jeep, up to 2,920m to link up with the
guide. From here, we set out northwards towards the central craters,
across broad snowfields and deposits of black volcanic ash (Photo 2).
Clouds of steam plumed upwards from the central craters which towered
above us streaked with yellow sulphur (Photo 3). Against the
stark blue sky, it was an awe-inspiring sight, as we laboured upwards
across the ash fields to
The following day, we followed the course of the Circumetnea Railway, to make our own circumnavigation around the western and northern flanks of Etna. We again passed through Bronte whose other claim to fame is that of being Cittą del Pistachio, producing 85% of Italy's pistachio nut output, which inexplicably is harvested only in odd-numbered years. We had been fortunate for weather for our time high on south Etna; today the sky was leadenly overcast when we stopped at a gelateria in Bronte for a dish of their renowned pistachio ice-cream. By the time we reached Randazzo, the rain was mightily raining, giving the town an even more gloomy air. After a long drive in appallingly rainy conditions across Etna's northern slopes, we reached the village of Milo to find the straightforward and delightfully sited Mareneve Camping. The rain continued to pour, lightning flashed and thundered rumbled ominously around the hills; it was not a comfortable feeling camped in such conditions at 700m on the side of a volcano. That evening, we compensated for the ghastly weather with excellent Etna Rosso wine from a local producer, Villegrande.
It was now time to move on down to the north-east coast, where we enjoyed a last fleeting view of Etna from the Greek theatre at Taormina. There was little further to detain us along this sordid resort-ridden coastline. Our next port of call would be Milazzo to catch the ferry out to the Aeolian Islands to see more of Sicily's volcanoes, both dormant and active; we hoped to be able to get out to the constantly erupting Stromboli. Join us again shortly for our reports and pictures from the Aeolian Islands. Sheila and Paul Published: Friday 1 June
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mpoverished-looking
town of Bronte. It was here in 1799 that King Ferdinand bestowed ducal
estates on Admiral Nelson for English help in saving the Bourbon
monarchy from Napoleonic revolt. Nelson never got round to visiting his
Sicilian estates, but the clearly eccentric Rev Patrick Prunty so
obsessively admired Nelson that he changed the family name to Bronte,
hence the name by which we know his literary daughters Anne, Charlotte and Emily. The
railway continues through great walls of solidified lava to Randazzo,
the largest of the Etna foothills towns, with the volcano's gloomy
presence louring above. Steep terraces on Etna's northern flanks are
covered with vines, producing some of Sicily's best wines. To travel on
the Ferrovia Circumetnea is a railway journey with a difference, and an
excellent introduction to time spent higher on the active volcano of
Etna - visit the railway's web site on 
We moved
up onto the southern slopes of Etna to camp on grim black volcanic ash
at the village of Nicolosi,
close to the outlying Monti Rossi craters formed during the great
eruption of 1669 and now a nature reserve.
The magnificent spectacle of
the distant Etna massif, viewed from the crater rim, enabled us to
identify key features on the southern face which we should explore at
closer quarters in the coming days. It was now time to advance up to Rifugio Sapienza at 2,000m through a barren wilderness of volcanic
debris, cinders and ash, past long black tongues of lava flow from the
2001~2 eruptions. And looming above was the snow-covered mass of
Etna's summit peaks, graced by the volcano's resident plume of smoke.
Being the highest point of vehicular access on south Etna, Rifugio
Sapienza is by day a seething chaos of tour-buses and parked cars whose
ill-shod occupants swarm noisily around the sordid souvenir stalls or crawl over the nearby elegant Silvestri craters which opened up along
a radial fault in the 1892 eruption. By 6-30 pm however, the last tour-buses
departed leaving us in peace, and the sun dipped behind the lava flows;
temperatures at this height dropped quickly, and we settled in for a
chill night's wild camp - one of our highest at 6,500 feet - against the
eerie backdrop of Etna's snowy peaks.
reach a craggy, razor-sharp lava flow; this was in fact only 13 days
old, being an outflow from an eruption on 11 April 2007. The guide
kicked a hole in the lava surface to demonstrate how this new rock we
were standing on was still distinctly hot: 1m down, it was 200°C.
Advancing up a steep gradient of volcanic debris, we 
reached today's
high-point at 3,000m, just 350m below the now dangerous and
out-of-bounds summit craters, at a steaming, craggy lava-vent (Photo
4). We descended snow fields, spattered with volcanic bombs, giving further
views of the steaming central crater group (Photo 5), across to
the rim of nearby large craters which were enveloped in steam
emerging from fearful black fissures (Photo 6). These craters had
been formed during a 3 month explosive eruption in 2002~3, which had
rained a 15 cm deep ash deposit on Catania 12 kms away, and spewed out a
5km long lava flow down the southern slopes. Temperatures down in the
vent were still over 500°C. Etna's characteristic eruptions begin
explosively, throwing columns of red-hot magma 300m into the air and
raining extensive layers of cinders, ash and volcanic bombs; this is
then followed by an effusive stage, with vast lava flows advancing
across the snow and ash fields like fiendish black tongues.
From the
crater rim, we dropped steeply down the cinders and ash, scree-running
without a conscience about erosion - there was endlessly more such
volcanic material where all this came from - then glissaded down steep
snow. Looking back up the 500m to the misty cones was a scary sight: had
we really descended so far so fast? Across another snow field, the
terrain dropped steeply away again; did we really have to descend
that? 'Andiamo' announced the guide, and we glissaded further to the rim
of the fearful Valle del Bove, a 7 km long, 6 km wide and 1 km deep
chasm, created across the SE face of Etna by the implosive collapse of
an ancient volcano's magma chamber at an earlier phase of Etna's
existence over 200 million years ago. A nerve-wracking snow-shelf
contoured for 150m above the fearful precipitous drop into the Valle.
Another 500m descent on steep snow and ash brought us down to the
highest vegetation levels; here we had our first sightings of Etna's
hardy indigenous flora, prickly cushions of Spinosanto (Astralagus
Siculus) and
delicately-coloured Etna Violets (Viola aetnensis), growing incongruously on the lava ash (Photo
7). Down through this bleak and trackless lunar landscape, we
descended with the guide to the Silvestri craters back to Rifugio
Sapienza. Weary of limb, but exultant after such a day's high level
ventures on Etna, we again set up for a second night's high camp, with
the lights of Catania twinkling way below us across the dark lava
fields. And the following day, after our descent from 2000m back to
Nicolosi at 750m, plastic mineral water bottles had imploded slightly
with the increase in atmospheric pressure. So ended the south Etna
phase.
Despite
continuing low cloud, we were determined to resume our explorations on
the northern side of Etna, and the following morning re-ascended to
1,800m, literally at the end of the road at Rifugio Citelli. Always
fascinated by distinctive road signs, we noted one unique to conditions
on Etna (see left) amid the volcanic ash. Here we walked the circuit of
the Monti Sartorio craters, formed by a mid-19th century eruption which
lasted 6 months and poured 96 million cubic metres of lava across the
mountain's northern flanks. Here endemic Etna birch trees (Betula
aetnensis) flourish amid the barren wastes of black ash and
lava, and
huge volcanic bombs litter the ground, formed when globules of viscous
lava are flung out during explosive
eruptions, cooling as they spin through the air. Significantly in this
bizarre environment, we heard our first cuckoo of 2007. Nearby at Piano
Provenzana, uprooted trees, blacked by the intensely hot lava of recent
eruptions, still lay amid the desolation of volcanic rubble. That night,
we camped up on the black volcanic ash at Rifugio Citelli. Dusk came
early tonight with a gloomy misty drizzle enveloping us; the refuge-hut
closed and we were left alone amid the blackness of Etna's northern
heights. What we should do if the volcano erupted tonight somehow did
not concern us as we settled in. And as a reward for our cold, wet night
at Citelli, the following morning dawned bright giving a wonderful view
of Etna's northern face (Photo
8). But the weather followed its customary pattern and by
mid-morning, cloud surrounded the summit craters rolling down the
mountain to the level of the birches behind our high camp.
Saying farewell, as we thought, to Etna, whose southern and northern
high flanks had been our home for the past week, we began our descent
through the lava fields, woods and lower terraced vine-slopes. Across
the valley, at Francavilla di Sicilia, we found the town's camping aire,
delightfully positioned under eucalyptus trees alongside the wide stony
bed of the San Paolo river. That evening as we were preparing supper, we
heard detonations which initially we took to be fireworks. Suddenly a
local man ran over, pointing up at the mountain and shouting frantically
"Etna - fuoco, fuoco (fire)". We stared in amazement at what was
happening before our eyes: the entire cone of the distant Etna was
glowing red, silhouetted against the night sky. An eruption was in
progress: time and again, huge flaring columns of fiery magma rocketed
upwards 300m into the air, falling in incandescent fountains down the
slopes. Brightly glowing volcanic bombs shot
outwards, then a second eruption burst out on the side of the cone as
more fiery fountains flared outwards. 24 hours ago, we had been camped
up there; how would we have reacted? But here at a distance of 6 miles,
we could witness this
spectacular volcanic display in security and for
the rest of the evening, sat watching the eruption through
binoculars. Later the eruption entered another phase: each explosion now
sent up even higher into the air incandescent fountains which burst into
showers of volcanic ash first glowing red and then scattering in the
wind as it cooled to a black-grey colour. Even
at this distance, we could hear the explosions bursting into the night
sky. It was thrilling to witness such a monumental climax to the Etna
phase of our trip. 24 hours earlier and we may have had an all too
uncomfortable close encounter with the eruption up at Rifugio Citelli.
At night time and at a distance, it was impossible to photograph the
eruption, but we have included some library
pictures to give an
impression of what
we saw.
