The idea of Sicily used to conjure for me sunshine, blue seas and cute cobbled fishing villages. That was before we went there.
I was correct on the sea and sunshine. But while Sicily is many things in different places — including ancient, modern, rundown, derelict, crowded, messy, beautiful, picturesque and dramatic — there’s nothing cute about it, unless you count baby lizards.
Our first day, in Messina, was fiercely hot and we mistakenly embarked on a 5-mile walk to no good end. We also made the classic tourist error of taking a taxi without agreeing a price first. (It has to be said that many Sicilians are nothing if not commercially aware, among many other traits.)
Our first night we were chewed to bits in our city camp by invisible mosquitoes.
Our second night we woke to a spectacular long, wild, wet and noisey lightning storm.
Then came Mt Etna.
At three thousand-plus meters tall it dominates the scene for miles around, with its sulphurously steaming craters weaving cloud banners around its peak.
We approach it via a town called Linguaglossa, where we learn that you can buy guided tours to the top, but not today; too windy (might we get blown into the crater, we wonder).
So we drive as far as the road goes, through an increasingly extraordinary landscape. Naked burnt umber, blasted white and rust roasted rock surrounds us, looking like a great mud slide, though it was once hot destructive larva and is now as sharp as needles.
We hike up a little way but it’s hard going, quite cold, we’ve got the wrong shoes on and the light is starting to fade. We resolve to return for a professionally hosted climb the next day.
This involves a half hour drive up through the barren larval landscape in a huge 4wd bus. Then a tough hour long climb up the last 300m to the main crater; tough as it’s very steep indeed, and Rob and I both feel light headed and nauseous with the altitude.
It’s worth it though. I never thought to stand by an active volcanoe crater and it is awe inspiring. Much of the air is thrillingly poisonous and the ground crunches and shifts under our feet like burnt ginger nuts. 
Last time Etna exploded was in 2002. The mangled remains of what was then the visitor centre can still be seen protruding through the larva. We’ll have a whole new perspective on it if it happens again anytime soon.
Belldetour 