Aetna excursion
Apr. 23rd, 2014 06:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blatherskiteFor our next big excursion, we signed up for a tour of Aetna given by a local company. It would have been feasible to rent a car and go by ourselves, but driving means that you can't enjoy the scenery because you're too busy trying not to run down bicyclists or drive head-on into other vehicles or off the road. Plus, this tour sounded like a perfect mix: we'd be taken to the volcano on a bus so we could rubberneck, with a guide telling us about the surrounding area, then let off on our own to explore. The only drawback was that the bus left at 8:30 from the bus terminal, so we had to set alarms to ensure we'd wake up on time, and then had to march briskly down to the bus station to hook up with our tour.
Our hostess on the bus was a Danish woman named Elizabet, who spoke fluent Italian, German, and English (plus, presumably, her native Danish). There were a few significant glitches in word choice or phrasing, but it impresses the heck out of me when someone can speak that many languages so well. I understood about 30% of the Italian, mostly because the English narration provided context; Shoshanna got about 50% of the German for the same reason.
The most interesting point Elizabet made were how everyone more or less ignored the volcano looming above them; in her words, "they respected but did not fear" the volcano. There have been a few eruptions in recent years, but apparently the local type of lava moves very slowly. In one case about 20 years ago, a big flow was heading directly for the town of Zafferana. The government tried to divert the flow by installling obstacles and trenches, all without success; in the end, the lava simply decided to stop on its own. This is interestingly different from the Icelandic experience, where they once pumped seawater for months onto a lava flow to cool the lava and create a massive dam that saved one of their towns.
The bus trip was our first journal through truly rural Sicily. There are signs of agriculture everywhere, ranging from the ubiquitous citrus trees that are covered in fruit to what we assumed (from a distance) to be apricot trees, but may have been loquat. There were also chestnuts, and what I assume to be pistachios, almonds, and hazelnuts. But almost no animals; during the entire bus trip, we only saw one chicken coop. In Scotland or Ireland, the hills would have been covered with sheep or goats. I have to assume that animal husbandry mostly occurs farther to the west, in flatter terrain. We'll see in a few days.
The bus trip passed first through the lowland areas, which are commonly filled with jumbled expanses of lava boulders. Much like in Hawaii, the lava seems to hit small obstacles, or small bits cool and solidify faster than other bits, causing the flowing bits to rear up and break into chunks before the rest of the flow pushes them aside and creates new chunks. These flows, both old and new, stretch as far as the eye can see. Also like in Hawaii, there's surprising amounts of life amidst the wreckage: extensive areas of trees in places where it's been long enough between flows for them to become established, and smaller shrubs and herbs elsewhere.
Higher up on the volcano, the flows of lava and the ejecta (gravel, sand, ash, etc.) cover the slopes and greatly reduce the amount of vegetation. The landscape transforms into desert, and achieves that same sort of bleak beauty. If you're expecting Mediterranean lushness, this isn't for you. We both enjoy the starkness. Interestingly, even in this bleak expanse we found ladybugs and moths clinging to the boundary layer below the wind.
Because of various factors, including winter conditions and exceptionally strong winds, we were not allowed to go right to the peak of Aetna on our own; we topped out at around 2800 m of the 3300-m total height, just below the two main peaks. (We could have hired a local guide to take us to the top, but frankly, were too tired to do that on foot, particularly since there were no actual eruptions or lava flows going on that would have justified the effort. Apparently Shoshanna and I need to hire ourselves out to regions at risk of major volcanic events, since our mere presence appears to be sufficient to stop any volcanism in its tracks.) Also, the air was noticeably thinner, and while we weren't in any difficulty, it took noticeably more effort to get enough air.
To get to the sweeping slopes immediately below Aetna's two main peaks, you take a cable car followed by a four-wheel-drive bus through extensive fields of heaped and jumbled lava to a visitor center (really more of an extended tourist trap and souvenir/restaurant center) at about 2000 m. There are a couple prominent things you can see there: Sylvestri crater, a small but perfectly shaped caldera about 50 metres across, and a huge hill that formed during the 2001 eruption, directly opposite Sylvestri and offering a great view into the small crater. Plus, the lava flow itself, which narrowly missed the visitor center before sweeping on downhill. (Lava follows chaos theory, it seems: tiny factors can cause large changes in its behavior and flow path.) Not being one to miss an opportunity, one of the merchants has a prominent sign that offers an opportunity to see where the lava "kissed his window". Yes, it really came that close.
We decided to leave the downslope area for last, and focus on the peaks. To get there, you take a leisurely cable car uphill for about 2 km, taking about 10 minutes to cover the distance, then pile into the abovementioned buses (basically a bunch of seats mounted on the back of an industrial truck chassis). These vehicles lurch back and forth as they navigate the not-quite bulldozed-smooth roads; they often rolled worse than our boat did during the trip to Stromboli. At the top, there's a smooth-surfaced desert of greyish black lava sand and gravel, with many patches of snow, and a couple large flows of the abovementioned jumbled blocks of lava ranging from bowling-ball size up to boulder size.
It was so hazy when we started out that you couldn't see the ocean, but the weather gradually improved, finally becoming a lovely sunny day, although the haze mostly moved downhill rather than disappearing. This was accompanied by strong winds, sometimes blowing hard enough to stop us in our tracks, and always strong enough to keep as a cautious distance back from the edges of any steep drops. As the haze thinned and the sun emerged, we traded increasingly clear views of the peaks for increasingly hazy views of the lowlands surrounding the mountain. Fair trade. Aetna's a lovely mountain -- kind of like Italy's Mount Fuji, though not so perfectly cone-shaped -- and we were rewarded by several distant puffs of steam, though not actual eruptions. On the one hand, this was disappointing; on the other, we would have felt rather guilty at enjoying a spectacle that was threatening the homes and lives of thousands of people farther downslope.
On the way down, we stopped in at the restaurant and gift shop where the cable car dumps you. The coffee was lovely, if predictably tiny, but they also had a sampling of a bunch of local wines and liqueurs. The strawberry liqueur (70% alcohol) may not have had much strawberry in it, but it certainly had a kick. The almond and pistachio liqueurs were better, and at only 17% alcohol, much easier to swallow. There were also samples of a nice sausage and cheese sandwich that had been chopped into tiny bits, and both the sausage and the cheese were exceptional. There were also some yummy nougat and almond snacks broken into crumbs. We came back for seconds.
We made it down from the peaks in time to visit the 2001 lava flow and Sylvestri crater before we had to get back on the bus. Along the way, we sampled some locally produced honey. The lemon honey was lovely, but troppo caro (way pricey), so we didn't buy any. One thing we've noted: lemon trees grow everywhere, so there's no shortage of lemon and lemon products. Apparently, to a Sicilian, life is expected to hand you lemons, and your goal in life is to find a range of yummy things to turn them into. They succeed admirably.
I noticed one really odd thing on the way home: dozens of couples, families, or larger groups scattered along the road down to sea level that winds through the lava fields below Aetna. Each group was separated from the next by tens or hundreds of meters, but all seemed to be having a picnic al fresco in flat spots amidst the heaps of lava. Shoshanna and I both hypothesized that this might be some kind of thing where after celebrating their Christian saviour throughout the past week of Easter, they took an opportunity to celebrate Aetna's continuing sufferance of their presence. (After all, there were much nice places to picnic, such as beaches and farm fields.)
Our hostess on the bus was a Danish woman named Elizabet, who spoke fluent Italian, German, and English (plus, presumably, her native Danish). There were a few significant glitches in word choice or phrasing, but it impresses the heck out of me when someone can speak that many languages so well. I understood about 30% of the Italian, mostly because the English narration provided context; Shoshanna got about 50% of the German for the same reason.
The most interesting point Elizabet made were how everyone more or less ignored the volcano looming above them; in her words, "they respected but did not fear" the volcano. There have been a few eruptions in recent years, but apparently the local type of lava moves very slowly. In one case about 20 years ago, a big flow was heading directly for the town of Zafferana. The government tried to divert the flow by installling obstacles and trenches, all without success; in the end, the lava simply decided to stop on its own. This is interestingly different from the Icelandic experience, where they once pumped seawater for months onto a lava flow to cool the lava and create a massive dam that saved one of their towns.
The bus trip was our first journal through truly rural Sicily. There are signs of agriculture everywhere, ranging from the ubiquitous citrus trees that are covered in fruit to what we assumed (from a distance) to be apricot trees, but may have been loquat. There were also chestnuts, and what I assume to be pistachios, almonds, and hazelnuts. But almost no animals; during the entire bus trip, we only saw one chicken coop. In Scotland or Ireland, the hills would have been covered with sheep or goats. I have to assume that animal husbandry mostly occurs farther to the west, in flatter terrain. We'll see in a few days.
The bus trip passed first through the lowland areas, which are commonly filled with jumbled expanses of lava boulders. Much like in Hawaii, the lava seems to hit small obstacles, or small bits cool and solidify faster than other bits, causing the flowing bits to rear up and break into chunks before the rest of the flow pushes them aside and creates new chunks. These flows, both old and new, stretch as far as the eye can see. Also like in Hawaii, there's surprising amounts of life amidst the wreckage: extensive areas of trees in places where it's been long enough between flows for them to become established, and smaller shrubs and herbs elsewhere.
Higher up on the volcano, the flows of lava and the ejecta (gravel, sand, ash, etc.) cover the slopes and greatly reduce the amount of vegetation. The landscape transforms into desert, and achieves that same sort of bleak beauty. If you're expecting Mediterranean lushness, this isn't for you. We both enjoy the starkness. Interestingly, even in this bleak expanse we found ladybugs and moths clinging to the boundary layer below the wind.
Because of various factors, including winter conditions and exceptionally strong winds, we were not allowed to go right to the peak of Aetna on our own; we topped out at around 2800 m of the 3300-m total height, just below the two main peaks. (We could have hired a local guide to take us to the top, but frankly, were too tired to do that on foot, particularly since there were no actual eruptions or lava flows going on that would have justified the effort. Apparently Shoshanna and I need to hire ourselves out to regions at risk of major volcanic events, since our mere presence appears to be sufficient to stop any volcanism in its tracks.) Also, the air was noticeably thinner, and while we weren't in any difficulty, it took noticeably more effort to get enough air.
To get to the sweeping slopes immediately below Aetna's two main peaks, you take a cable car followed by a four-wheel-drive bus through extensive fields of heaped and jumbled lava to a visitor center (really more of an extended tourist trap and souvenir/restaurant center) at about 2000 m. There are a couple prominent things you can see there: Sylvestri crater, a small but perfectly shaped caldera about 50 metres across, and a huge hill that formed during the 2001 eruption, directly opposite Sylvestri and offering a great view into the small crater. Plus, the lava flow itself, which narrowly missed the visitor center before sweeping on downhill. (Lava follows chaos theory, it seems: tiny factors can cause large changes in its behavior and flow path.) Not being one to miss an opportunity, one of the merchants has a prominent sign that offers an opportunity to see where the lava "kissed his window". Yes, it really came that close.
We decided to leave the downslope area for last, and focus on the peaks. To get there, you take a leisurely cable car uphill for about 2 km, taking about 10 minutes to cover the distance, then pile into the abovementioned buses (basically a bunch of seats mounted on the back of an industrial truck chassis). These vehicles lurch back and forth as they navigate the not-quite bulldozed-smooth roads; they often rolled worse than our boat did during the trip to Stromboli. At the top, there's a smooth-surfaced desert of greyish black lava sand and gravel, with many patches of snow, and a couple large flows of the abovementioned jumbled blocks of lava ranging from bowling-ball size up to boulder size.
It was so hazy when we started out that you couldn't see the ocean, but the weather gradually improved, finally becoming a lovely sunny day, although the haze mostly moved downhill rather than disappearing. This was accompanied by strong winds, sometimes blowing hard enough to stop us in our tracks, and always strong enough to keep as a cautious distance back from the edges of any steep drops. As the haze thinned and the sun emerged, we traded increasingly clear views of the peaks for increasingly hazy views of the lowlands surrounding the mountain. Fair trade. Aetna's a lovely mountain -- kind of like Italy's Mount Fuji, though not so perfectly cone-shaped -- and we were rewarded by several distant puffs of steam, though not actual eruptions. On the one hand, this was disappointing; on the other, we would have felt rather guilty at enjoying a spectacle that was threatening the homes and lives of thousands of people farther downslope.
On the way down, we stopped in at the restaurant and gift shop where the cable car dumps you. The coffee was lovely, if predictably tiny, but they also had a sampling of a bunch of local wines and liqueurs. The strawberry liqueur (70% alcohol) may not have had much strawberry in it, but it certainly had a kick. The almond and pistachio liqueurs were better, and at only 17% alcohol, much easier to swallow. There were also samples of a nice sausage and cheese sandwich that had been chopped into tiny bits, and both the sausage and the cheese were exceptional. There were also some yummy nougat and almond snacks broken into crumbs. We came back for seconds.
We made it down from the peaks in time to visit the 2001 lava flow and Sylvestri crater before we had to get back on the bus. Along the way, we sampled some locally produced honey. The lemon honey was lovely, but troppo caro (way pricey), so we didn't buy any. One thing we've noted: lemon trees grow everywhere, so there's no shortage of lemon and lemon products. Apparently, to a Sicilian, life is expected to hand you lemons, and your goal in life is to find a range of yummy things to turn them into. They succeed admirably.
I noticed one really odd thing on the way home: dozens of couples, families, or larger groups scattered along the road down to sea level that winds through the lava fields below Aetna. Each group was separated from the next by tens or hundreds of meters, but all seemed to be having a picnic al fresco in flat spots amidst the heaps of lava. Shoshanna and I both hypothesized that this might be some kind of thing where after celebrating their Christian saviour throughout the past week of Easter, they took an opportunity to celebrate Aetna's continuing sufferance of their presence. (After all, there were much nice places to picnic, such as beaches and farm fields.)