From Lava Flows To Snow: Mount Etna After the Eruption

MOUNT ETNA, Sicily, May 7, 2007 — -- Mount Etna was erupting again, spewing fire and hurling rock and lava down its slopes. The most spectacular recent outburst exploded onto Italian television screens on May 1st.

The southeast crater of the volcano seemed to be brewing some serious trouble.

Etna is renowned for regular minor eruptions and attracts tourists eager to see the flow of lava inching down its side. So I decided to head down to the island of Sicily, off the southern tip of the Italian mainland to see what an erupting Mount Etna would look like.

Travel in Italy almost always includes the amusing and the unexpected, along with the charming, the frustrating and the beautiful. Travel to Sicily, and the south of Italy in particular promises even more of the above.

Even though I have lived in Italy for almost 30 years, I am always both excited and wary when I head south of Rome. Southern Italy is as warm, charming and beautiful as the country gets, but its inhabitants are also famous for their ingenuity in finding ways to make or take a dime. They spot the airheaded tourist (or reporter, for that matter) miles away. So my antennas are up as soon as I get off the plane in the grim little Third World airport of Catania.

Thinking ahead to small mountain roads and few shops, I head for the airport store to buy batteries and a map of Sicily. As I walk in, I hear the two young men tending the store tell a client, "Non abbiamo allegramente niente," roughly translated to mean "We cheerfully have nothing."

Just then, I reach the shelf of guidebooks and maps. I count seven maps of the Sinai Desert -- yes, the Sinai Desert -- but not even one of Sicily. When asked, the cashier finds a map of Sicily under the counter. As for batteries, I cheerfully forget those.

Next is rental car pickup, with car company offices located in temporary (must be there since they started renting cars in Catania) container buildings halfway to the long-term parking lot.

Finally, I head through the confusion of signs, pedestrians and road work around the airport trying to follow the directions I have been given to Nicolosi, on the slopes of Mount Etna.

I get on the Tangenziale Ovest and look for signs for Gravina. I am searching for the Gravina exit when the clouds break briefly and I get my first glimpse of the "signora montagna" (lady mountain), as the Etna guide called it. But in stark contrast to the molten lava flow of days before, on May 4 Etna is covered in snow. No wonder mountains in Italian are feminine. After all, it's a woman's prerogative to change her mind.

Just past the town of Nicolosi, I can finally take my first picture of the mountain. Etna is huge and wide -- indeed a magnificent or "signora" mountain (in Italian signore or signora used as an adjective expresses size and magnificence). Depending on whether recent eruptions raise or lower the highest crater, it is the largest active volcano in Europe -- 10,990 feet high, more or less and covering a surface area of 790 square miles.

The snow on the mountain makes my picture -- I was afraid all I would get is black on black.

I decide to get something to eat before I face the mountain, and head to the Corsaro restaurant and hotel. Its Web site (www.hotelcorsaro.it), with its running blog in rough English of excited eruption news told me it might be fun. A tall, elegant young man in a dark shirt and glasses greets me as I walk in, lone traveler in a sea of tours.

"You must be Mr. Corsaro," I say.

Big smile. "I deny everything."

"But your Web site says you are two brothers, you must be Alessandro?" I ask.

Bigger smile. "That could get me into trouble. No, I am Davide."

The Corsaro business on Etna, like so many in Italy, has humble, hardworking origins.Davide Corsaro's grandfather, Tino Corsaro, was, of all things, a snow merchant on Mount Etna in 1946.

Back before refrigerators, 14 horse-drawn carts would scurry up and down the mountain every night, bringing snow down to the valley and the city of Catania for use in preserving food and making ice cream.

Tino Corsaro also sold the produce from his land on the mountainside, which included apples, olives, oranges, pears and almonds. The cart soon became a truck, but when an accident stopped Tino Corsaro's trips, his wife, Davide Corsaro's "nonna," opened a kiosk where travelers up the mountain could get refreshment. That small spot grew into today's restaurant, which caters to busloads of hungry tourists that demolish the rich buffet every day.

It would be a sweet success story if it weren't for Etna. The 1983 eruption of Mount Etna totally destroyed the hard work of two generations of Corsaros.

"First, the lava surrounded the building, and then it came in through the front door," Corsaro said. "Three-quarters of the restaurant was filled with lava, and we were still clearing the kitchen as the lava flowed into the dining hall."

Undeterred, the Corsaro's were already rebuilding a year later on "warm lava." Why would you do that?