Parco dell’Etna

Making plans is not my strongest asset but for a short hike near the Etna all I know is that I don’t need to go to the top. Elevation stays roughly between 1400 and 2000 meter and the loop is about 37 kilometer in total. Wild camping is not really allowed but also not really forbidden. The beauty coming my way is of another planet altogether. A world I love: barren and lush at the same time.

In between hikes Geo and I are exploring Italy by watching someone’s home and dog. This is called house-sitting. After our first house-sitting assignment that lasted 3 weeks, we had another short house-sit introduction near Rome. This enables the dog owner to leave their home with a mind at ease while we get a more realistic view of Italy. Yet, no view is complete without a hike, and so Geo and I are off to Sicily.

While we drive through Nebrodi national park I notice the lack of towns to stock up in would I start walking here. It troubles me a bit since I can not walk more than 15 kilometres at best. The surroundings are magnificent and I feel slightly at loss. Should I have taken the trailer and trade the narrowest of paths for hauling food?

Geo’s help to drop me off as far as possible is very appreciated, so all I need to do is walk as far as I can without going 1000 meter (3280 feet) down in altitude to find food. It turns out I walk a full day on one third of a bento-box of soaked oats, nuts and dried fruits but it also turns out I need way less than I think.

Walking sharpens your senses. It makes you appreciate the simple things more. It stops you from thinking randomly into detailed unimportant stuff to linear logical thoughts and decision making. Walking makes you being reasonable in approach. Time triples. Food, an ever important feature, is truly longed for, while taste become richer. Walking gives you a feeling of achievement by overcoming some discomfort. Comfort has never added to my sense of adventure and escapade. Here, at Mother Etna’s slopes it is perfection as there is no man-made structure thus all is in utmost balance. Being it October, I meet hardly any other hikers: ideal time of year.

As soon as I am on the path, I feel great. As if released. Set free, like a bird or a race horse. With my pack full of only the bare minimals and as much food as I could stow in, I know the greatness of emotions is also caused by the comfort I know I have. For now, all I feel is the quietness falling on my shoulders, like leaves twirling down. A soothing wrap envelops me. I longed to be here…

Sitting in a van is a constancy of sounds and never ending stress from just being on the road. The lack of movement is extreme and the bowels turn into a slow churning factory. How can anyone loving the outdoors, needing to discover, not long to be in nature of the country being in​­? Been to Italy countless times, I never expected to see what I now look at. Perceiving has a lot to do with growing older and becoming more tuned to the near by and to the smallness of our world. Like wanting to explore the desert surrounding the pyramid while the pyramid itself holds countless treasures.

To see the new is essential to me, not from behind a window, but as close as one can get. While walking through the national park surrounding the volcano Etna, I feel dropped into a scenery where fairy tales could have well been invented. The high amount of beauty together with the stark contrast of the lava flow, mixed with autumn colors and my feeling of high excitement make the walk a bubbling pool of mental deliciousness. Talking about bubbling feelings and lava flow, it dawns on me whether I am actually ignorant? ‘Does this volcano still erupt and if so, how would I know?’ goes through my head.

For a hypersensitive someone the quietness is balmy and the absolute beauty, openness and the never-seen-before is needed as much as time alone is. Like togetherness can be needed, or slow eating in silence, or exorbitant cooking with home grown stuff or beauty in general. Sicily delivers at once!

I think walking gives a little more satisfaction as this is most demanding. The feeling is immense to continue where you halted the previous evening. To sleep in places that are not accessible by bicycle and kickbike, that are not even to reach with a walking trailer. A battered and soiled body that feels somewhat revived after a night sleeping, all with the stuff carried by oneself. I wash in watering reservoirs for cows to drink from (can I attract mites at these places?). I keep clean on the go. Clearly, I can not carry much food nor water so I have to plan well (and not step in darkness on my ultra light titanium cooking gear). I often think of a friend I made while cycling the world, Heike: she walks months on end by now. How does she do it?

The stuff I carry is ultra light and ultra fragile, so very prone to breakage, yet the feelings are of another level. The Durston Mid-X 1 tent weighs 795 gram (28 oz) and the Heiberg Attila backpack 682 gram (24 oz). With me being small and around 50 kilo I should not exceed 20% of my body weight to what I carry (I think I carry around 12 kilogram). I notice when the surroundings captivate me, I don’t feel the backpack at all.

Just before I reach my spot for the night, one I carefully select, not by comfort nor safety but by beauty alone, I meet with Geo. He unexpectedly decided to follow my trail, and we meet unplanned. He walks so much faster than I and is simply strong as Hercules while I represent more of an atom cloud. While Geo is calm and composed and I hyperactive we do walk together but not when I am going on a multi-day hike. He detest camping and walks up and down the distance I covered in two days. We are now at almost 2000 meters (6560 feet) in altitude and with a leaking rain jacket and a few slices of bread Geo calls it an okay walk, while I soon settle for a magnificent spot with a splendid discomforting night that awaits me. We kiss each other goodbye and decide on meeting the next day.

There aren’t villages nearby at this altitude, at least not that I can walk to and stock up on food. In my excitement I choose a route that led me higher up and further away from the village I first intended to walk to. Geo who came to see me on the trail didn’t carry extra food or water, like an Everest sherpa would (but maybe only when you’d tell him to).

I feel a 100% more at ease in Sicily than I did on the trail in Abruzzo. So far I haven’t seen any restriction signboards, except one at a refugio that made clear not to do your laundry. Refugio are beautiful little houses made from wood and lava bricks. They have bunk beds, a table with chairs and a fire place. Outside is a shed full with wood and there’s water. So no laundry but fires are allowed. To my ears this sound like magic. Even though my sleep would be significantly better in a refugio than on a slanted, uneven slope of lava, I choose the latter.

I choose my tent with possible discomfort over a structure as sleeping right under the stars is much more exciting. And since I carried my stuff all the way up, I rather use it. Nature is so transcendent that being here is healing, even if there is little to heal. The beauty surrounding me is overwhelming and the soil I anchor the pegs of the tent in, too loose.

While sleeping, earplugs deeply inserted so the wind will not disturb me, I see a long trail of lights fluttering far below me. I ought not to be able to see this from this position point in my tent. I notice a stake has come loose. The long edge of the tent flaps wildly, touching my body. This tent must be staked down or it will collapse. Besides this, the floor of the tent is so slippery that with an ever so slight slant, the air mattress is sliding.

Sliding down to one side and having to re-pitch the tent didn’t make for a good night sleep but the magnificence of the whole surrounding made up for it well beyond my expectations.

The 10 kilometers long walk down through forest and the pizza together with Geo were a nice closure of the Etna trail. The shower in the not very cold drizzle the next morning at our van is refreshing. Andiamo, to our next destination.