In theory, you shouldn’t drive up an
erupting volcano during an earthquake… But we had a fiat panda 4x4 handy, so we
did
When things smoke, it is usually an
indication that something unfortunate is imminent. In fact, there are great
swathes of things regarded with more affection when they have not recently
been, or are possibly about to be, a little bit on fire. The engine in your car
for instance. Or most types of food. Unclaimed packages in airports. And
mountains. Mountains are generally high on the list of things to avoid when
they start to do something as uncharacteristic as lightly smolder. But this
being TopGear, I am currently at the base of a mountain frothing great gouts of
smoke and steam, preparing to drive to the top.
When
things smoke, it is usually an indication that something unfortunate is
imminent.
The hell hill in question is Mount Etna, in
south-Easternish Sicily, one of the most active volcanoes in the world. A
volcano so animate that if you tot up the major eruptions of the 20th century,
the number in double figures. There are ‘events’ every few months. The last big
one was in October 2012. And, incidentally, last night, accompanied by a modest
geological cough, that measured 3.8 on the Richter scale. So today – obviously
we are going to try driving up it. Something usually forbidden because it’s a
bit dangerous. For this, we require an adventure vehicle equipped with huge
tires and a massive engine, a behemoth festooned with winches and ropes and
possibly anti-volcano armor. Something to protect us in case the mountain burns
down. Again.
The
hell hill in question is Mount Etna, in south-Easternish Sicily, one of the
most active volcanoes in the world.
Unfortunately, we have not brought that
vehicle. Instead, we have arrived equipped with a completely standard Fiat
Panda 4x4. Though we have fitted winter tires, there’s a nagging feeling we may
have arrived ever so slightly ill-equipped for this little expedition.
The situation does not bode particularly
well on the drive up. Etna - all 10,922 feet of it dominates the totality of
the view that isn’t sea from the town of Catania. And it’s hard to miss, because
it’s the hill smoking like a-recently fired cannon, or the remnants of the
biggest firework you’ve ever seen. Which in a sense, it is because Etna is a
vigorous Stratovolcano two and a half times the size of Vesuvius. It’s famous
for featuring in Greek mythology as the place where Typhon (comfortingly called
‘father of all monsters’) was imprisoned by Zeus for being naughty, somewhere
in an annexe to the forges of Hephaestus, the blacksmith of the gods, which are
also apparently secreted under Etna’s 1189-sq-km base.
The
situation does not bode particularly well on the drive up
Sounds scary, but the bottom bit is simply
pretty. Across the plain of Catania in the shadow of Etna spreads a patchwork
of orchards and vineyards, rooted in the fertile volcanic soil left over from
previous eruptions. It’s surprisingly green, and the Panda slips into the
bucolic scene as if made for it. As Etna swells in the windscreen, the bulbous
little Fiat tackles the sweeping, newly laid mountain roads without fuss, little
1.3-liter Multi Jet diesel thrumming through a five-speed manual. It might not
exactly be crisp in its reactions, and under steer is close at hand, thanks to
a couple of inches of increased height over the standard car, but the ride is
supple and mature for a super mini, the body tempted into tilt but never loose.
On the wet leaves and remnants of an icy
dawn that shroud the bottom of the mountain, it even flickers its 4x4 system
into life and drags itself out of frosty junctions without spinning wheels. This,
one would suggest, is probably all that most owners would come to expect a
degree of extra surety in slippery conditions. But it looks as if we’ll need a
bit more than that. As if to prove some sort of meteorological point, it
immediately begins to rain.
On
the wet leaves and remnants of an icy dawn that shroud the bottom of the
mountain, it even flickers its 4x4 system into life and drags itself out of
frosty junctions without spinning wheels
Above the forest, gently catching its own
kind of fire as autumn marches its colors through the trees, old lava becomes
more obvious. Spiky and yellow-green, it makes the landscape look austere and
alien. And unexpectedly beautiful. Colonized by lichen, this is the old stuff,
persuaded down to the sea by channels carved out of the side of the hill by
humans desperate to divert molten lava away from villages. Nature’s indifferent
rampage nurtured into the Soothing arms of the sea. Again, I’m impressed by the
little Panda. It feels grown up and capable, and, after pottering for a while,
we finally arrive at the base of Etna feeling a little more robust about our
chances, eventually pulling up at the place where the cable car starts and most
civilian traffic stops. Today, though, we have The Permissions, and the barriers
rise for us.
