Chapter 4 - Volcano Vesuvio

Have you ever climbed up to the top of the crater of a live volcano? I have! I have! After the previous day spent exploring and climbing all over the ruins of Pompeii and looking at Vesuvius looming large in the horizon, we had to go have an up-close look at the perpetrator. While the day was bright and sunny, it was still quite chilly and we all had on our sweatshirts and jackets. It was about a 10 minute drive to the mountain and about a 30 minute drive up many steep, sharp-turned switchbacks on a very narrow road – it felt like about 100 of these hairpin turns, but it was probably only about 20. It was early in the morning so there was very little traffic (especially coming from the other direction, thank god!). The temperature got lower and lower as we headed up the side of the volcano. We were all looking forward to earning our “vulcanologist” bragging rights. When we got up to the top and parked, it was very cold. We didn’t have gloves, but we bought baseball hats that say “Vesuvio” on them and headed up the steep winding trail. Unfortunately, one member of our party decided to quit about halfway up unless she was carried because she was cold and “I never wanted to come here anyway – take me back to the hotel - NNNNNOOOOWWWWW.” And no, the “she” in question is not me. Father reaction to this behavior – keep on walking and let her scream. Mother reaction to this behavior – stop and wait on the side of the trail with said screaming 5 year old until the father returns and piggy backs errant member of the group. Isabelle should have been born in Victorian times when the ladies where carried up into the mountains by the local guides (or whatever Italian sherpas are called) in their comfy chairs. Near the top was a little gift shack which also had snacks, an espresso machine (of course) and an Italian nonna who invited the boys in and steamed them a couple of fresh hot chocolates. Unfortunately, our little principessa (pronounced princh-a-pessa in Italian) doesn’t like hot chocolate and was provided with additional time to complain and harangue us for “torturing” her by making her walk up the side of a mountain. It is also the place where everyone stops to have a smoke and behold the beautiful vista of the Bay of Naples and the city.

There were all kinds of climbers on the path; serious 20-something Germans with walking sticks and hulking climbing boots, various Italian seniors in light jackets & nice shoes, a high school field trip from the U.K., a couple of families, a cute little 18 month old Italian bambina toddling up the path in her puffy pink snowsuit and lots of weather-beaten guides waiting to take you on a grand tour of the crater if you’d like to do that. After the hot chocolate break, we only had another two minute walk up to the crater. Standing on the edge of a volcano crater with smoke pouring out of the sides of it is really quite a sight. Unfortunately, once we got up to the top, one of our most imaginative children had a panic – we were standing on top of a live volcano! It could blow at any minute! Scientists don’t know everything! WE HAVE TO GET OFF THIS THING! (By the way, the panicked 8 year old, like all 8 year old boys, is also developing the beginnings of his little boy machismo – ergo, it would be best if you don’t ask us about this part of the story.) And of course, after a momentarily lapse of complaining, while being photographed of course, Volcano Isabelle started to erupt, yet again. Through all this, the three of us who were really enjoying ourselves were having a fantastic time. Bill told all the kids that we would come back again when they are older and hire a guide and spent more time hiking down into and around more of the crater. (Hopefully, Bill and I won’t be too old when that time arrives.)

As we were the early bird hikers, by the time we left the place was actually starting to get crowded. And much to our amazement, the big tour buses that we see all over Italy (picture a BIG bus about twice as tall and a third longer than a regular city bus) were coming up the mountain. Therefore, on our ride down the gazillion little switchback hairpin turns, we met up with tour buses that just cruise up the mountain and sound their horns as they approach turns. At one point we had to stop and back up to let a bus get around a curve. Yikes! Fortunately, most of the panicked terror scenes playing in my head only involved our little Fiat gently rolling down the hillside versus crashing down a sheer cliff because of the way the road is constructed. We made it down and headed down the back streets through a grungy part of Naples to look for Herculaneum, the last and final chapter in our volcanic vacation.

Hopefully there is a cub scout badge for vulcanologist because we all deserve one for climbing up Vesuvius on a cold, windy day in November.