Sicily Revisited

We left Reggio di Calabria on the morning of September 19th under partly cloudy skies. Our destination: Milazzo on Sicily's northern coast. We were once again leaving the European mainland behind.

To get to Milazzo, we needed to sail through the Strait of Messina, a gauntlet of rips, whirlpools, and eddies first made famous in the Odyssey of Greek mythology.

Our progress was slowed at times by up to three knots as we dodge standing waves reminiscent of the Pacific Northwest. We hadn't seen tidal rips like this since Ireland! But then we were through and we turned west toward Milazzo and Marina Santa Maria Maggiore. A skiff came out to greet us and soon  we were securely Med moored to the dock.

Our new crew, John and Kelly Hranac, arrived by train the next day. We introduced them to Sicily with a delicious eggplant Parmesan dinner. The next day, we set sail for the Isola Eolie, or Aeolian Islands. Our first stop? Stromboli.

We got a taste of Sicily's volcanoes last week when we ferried from Reggio to Messina, rented a car (65 Euro for a Fiat Panda from Europcar), and drove 80 kilometers south along the coast toward Mt. Etna. The road was as good as any U.S. superslab, though not as wide, blasting alternately through mountain tunnels and over long bridge spans.

We wound up Etna's southeast slopes through charming villages and thick forests, the forests eventually giving way as we climbed to scrub brush and finally barren rock. The road ended in a big parking lot where tourists swarmed, many queuing up to pay 29 Euro for a gondola ride to the top. Having ridden many gondolas before, we opted to hike up the lower slopes to loop around the rim of a crater.

But Stromboli took volcano touring to another level. The island loomed larger as larger as we progressed on our 30 nautical mile sail from Milazzo, a perfect volcanic cone sloping steeply from the sea. We arrived at sunset and anchored off the ferry pier near the island's main village. The next morning, we dinghied ashore and for 50 Euro reserved the final two slots for a guided hike up to the top of the island. This was the only way to view the volcanoes active volcanic eruptions as unguided hikers were forbidden to climb higher than 400 meters. John and I would go. Kelly and Jocelyn opted to stay in town.



The excursion departed at 4 p.m. John and I loitered with 20 others in the group at a meeting point outside the town's main church, hearing German, French, Italian, Russian, and Polish. Soon, the tour guide appeared. We were each issued a red climbing helmet and told that the ascent would take three hours, the viewing at the top one, and the descent two more hours. We would be back in town around 10 p.m. to meet Jocelyn for a dinghy ride back to the boat.

The hike quickly left the village and ascended the mountains northeast slope on a well-worn path through scrubby sage-like vegetation. The pace was slow and steady, and the group quickly adopted a marching rhythm. It was hot, sweat quickly soaking my shirt. The guide paused for a brief rest every half-hour. At 400 meters, the guide pointed out the sign forbidding unguided hikers from further ascent.

We left the scrub in the mountain's shadow and switchbacked steeply along a shoulder ridge. Before long, we emerged at the top of the shoulder to an amazing sight. The sun was setting behind a smoking crater. On cue the crater erupted with a loud boom, shooting red hot pumice high into the air. All cameras came out quickly as we gawked at the spectacle.

At a rudimentary shelter, we donned our helmets and windbreakers before proceeding up the last half kilometer to the high view spot. Here, as the dusk turned into darkness we looked out over three large craters and many fumaroles. One crater about 100 meters below us popped off every 10 to 15 seconds, shooting red lava rocks to higher than eye level. The other two erupted only twice during the hour we watched, but these eruptions were worth the wait. Loud rumbling and quaking preceded a significant display of volcanic power, with ash, cinder, and red rock blown high into the night. Not wanting to deny us the full experience, the wind gods blew the ash directly over us giving us a snoot full to smell and taste.

Eventually, the guide ushered us toward to descent. Headlamps switched on and we stepped down, down, down. Much of the trail took us through soft, snow like volcanic dust, which we sunk into up to our boot tops. Before long, we were back in town marveling at our experience.

To top it off, we weighed anchor at 4 a.m. the next morning to drive the boat around the island's northwest corner where we could watch the eruptions from sea level.





We spent three more days in the Isole Eolie, two at anchor on Vulcano where we took in the thermal mud baths, and one on Filicudi where we hiked ancient footpaths through the island's terraced slopes.








On September 26th, we sailed southwest using our gennaker to pull us along. We arrived at the quaint tourist town of Cefalu where we tied up to a dock, walked to town, and enjoyed a delightful seafood dinner. The next day, we sailed on 17 nautical miles to Termini Imerese where we took in more thermal waters. One day and one more gennaker sail later we tied up in La Cala in downtown Palermo.