Our first transportation was our own Beatrix: from the campsite to the highest point you can drive to, which is also, luckily, a parking spot for motorhomes. Our journey had its own challenges: the sat nav was playing its old tricks and taking us through tiny villages - picturesque, but not ideal in a motorhome. At one point we squeezed through our smallest gap yet: between high stone walls that weren't straight, with maybe an inch or two either side of Beatrix. If Kevin and I hadn't been concentrating so hard on getting through, it would have made a great photo. But we finally got onto the open road, and drove ever higher through the lava fields. It's an other-worldly and slightly scary landscape: little pockets of dead trees surrounded either side by high, uneven mounds of black rock. But eventually we made it to the top: a combination of souvenir stalls (Etnan honey being a draw, it seems); tacky cafes; and an astonishing view over the black cinders to the clouds above the plains below. You could even see the curve of the bay.
Lunch in Beatrix, with that view, then we headed for the gondola: transportation method two. As mentioned previously, I am not great in enclosed ski lifts, but I was determined to see the volcano. I started feeling terrified going through the turnstiles, and by the time it took off I was at the beginning of a proper panic attack. I sat back, closed my eyes, and tried meditating, and gradually my heart rate slowed and the experience became just about sustainable. I stayed silent, eyes closed, the whole way up, Kevin distracting Jemima who was a bit flummoxed by my stillness. All I could think as I got off still shaking was that I would have to go down as well...
The top was an even better view. (Not worth the fear, but at least I'd made it.) But then we realised we could get a mini bus on enormous wheels like a giant Land Rover, (apparently called a Unimog) further up - and most importantly to me, all the way down again. No need for the gondola! Thank goodness for transportation method three. Jemima and I were lucky and got to sit in the front passenger seat with a great view; and with a full complement of passengers, we set off.
It was an even stranger monochromatic landscape - just white snow patches over the black volcanic rock. The route wound its way up the sides of Etna, through snow walls, over a river, and across channels dug in the track by melting snow. And this was our undoing: our very nice driver, trying to avoid these crevasses, managed to get us thoroughly stuck in one instead. "Mummy, we're tipping over!" And it certainly felt like it - we were at quite a severe angle. After a lot of unsuccessful wheel spinning, we were all asked to disembark. (Kevin says he must have been a terrible driver to get one of these Unimogs stuck.) Then an interesting hiatus on the mountainside (including Jemima being - presumably - one of the few to wee on a volcano); and eventually we got in a different vehicle and continued on.
This still wasn't the top, but it was as high as you could get: around 2900 metres, with the top of smoking Etna not far above us at 3300 metres. We walked with a guide along the edge of a sheer drop (holding very tightly to Jemima's hand) then skirted the edge of a crater that last erupted in 2002. Kevin picked up a rock and it was warm. Then we got back in the Unimog (which they'd managed to get unstuck) and wound our way carefully down the volcano, back to the safety of Beatrix.
And now here we are: post pasta and salad, about to sleep on the side of Etna, with the lights of the valley shining below us. The volcanic activity rating is low - but still, fingers crossed we'll see tomorrow...
On Mount Etna:
Morning over the lava beach:
Terror on the gondola:
In the Unimog:
On the way up Etna, smoking ahead of us:
Our stranded Unimog:
Jemima and Kevin on the volcano:
Nightspot with a view:
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