[17] Chloris Aetnensis: o le quattro Florule dell' Etna, opusculo del Sig. C. S. Rafinesque-Schmaltz, Palermo. Dicembre, 1813.
CHAPTER III.
ASCENT OF THE MOUNTAIN.
The most suitable time for ascending Etna.—The ascent commenced.—Nicolosi.—Etna mules.—Night journey through the upper Regions of the mountain.—Brilliancy of the Stars.—Proposed Observatory on Etna.—The Casa Inglesi.—Summit of the Great Crater.—Sunrise from the summit.—The Crater.—Descent from the Mountain.—Effects of Refraction.—Fatigue of the Ascent.
The ascent of Mount Etna has been described many times during the last eighteen centuries, from Strabo in the second century to Dr. Baltzer in 1875. One of the most interesting accounts is certainly that of Brydone, and in this century perhaps that of Mr. Gladstone. Of course the interest of the expedition is greatly increased if it can be combined with that spice of danger which is afforded by the fact of the mountain being in a state of eruption at the time.
The best period for making the ascent is between May and September, after the melting of the winter snows, and before the autumnal rains. In winter snow frequently extends from the summit downwards for nine or ten miles; the paths are obliterated, and the guides refuse to accompany travellers. Even so late in the spring as May 29th Brydone had to traverse seven miles of snow before reaching the summit. Moreover, violent storms often rage in the upper regions of the mountain, and the wind acquires a force which it is difficult to withstand, and is at the same time piercingly cold. Sir William Hamilton, in relating his ascent on the night of June 26th, 1769, remarks that, if they had not kindled a fire at the halting place, and put on much warm clothing, they would "surely have perished with the cold." At the same time the wind was so violent that they had several times to throw themselves on their faces to avoid being overthrown. Yet the guides said that the wind was not unusually violent. Some writers, well used to Alpine climbing, have asserted that the cold on Etna was more severe than anything they have ever experienced in the Alps.
The writer of this memoir made the ascent of the mountain in August 1877, accompanied by a courier and a guide. We took with us two mules; some thick rugs; provisions consisting of bread, meat, wine, coffee, and brandy; wooden staves for making the ascent of the cone; a geological hammer; a bag for specimens; and a few other requisites. It has to be remembered that absolutely nothing is to be met with at the Casa Inglesi, where the halt is made for the night; even firewood has to be taken, a fire being most necessary in those elevated regions even during a midsummer's night. For some time previous to our ascent the weather had been uniformly bright and fine, and there had been no rain for more than three months. The mean temperature in the shade at Catania, and generally along the eastern sea-base of the mountain, was 82° F.
As we desired to see the sunrise from the summit of the mountain, we determined to ascend during the cool of the evening, resting for an hour or two before sunrise at the Casa Inglesi at the foot of the cone. Accordingly we left Catania soon after midday, and drove to Nicolosi, twelve miles distant, and 2,288 feet above the sea. The road for some distance passed through a very fertile district; on either side there were corn fields and vineyards, and gardens of orange and lemon trees, figs and almonds, growing luxuriantly in the decomposed lava. About half way between Catania and Nicolosi stands the village of Gravina, and a mile beyond it Mascalucia, a small town containing nearly 4000 inhabitants. Near this is the ruined church of St. Antonio, founded in 1300. Nine miles from Catania the village of Torre di Grifo is passed, and the road then enters a nearly barren district covered with the lava and scoriæ of 1527. The only prominent form of vegetation is a peculiar tall broom—Genista Etnensis—which here flourishes. We are now entering the region of minor cones; the vineclad cone of Monpilieri is visible on the left, and just above it Monti Rossi, 3,110 feet above the sea; to the right of the latter we see Monte San Nicola, Serrapizzuta, and Monte Arso. We reach Nicolosi at half-past four; for although the distance is short, the road is very rugged and steep.
Nicolosi has a population of less than 3,000; it consists of a long street, bordered by one-storied cottages of lava. In the church the priests were preparing for a festa in honour of S. Anthony of Padua. They politely took us into the sacristy, and exhibited with much pride some graven images of rather coarse workmanship, which were covered with gilding and bright coloured paint. Near Nicolosi stands the convent of S. Nicola dell' Arena, once inhabited by Benedictine monks, who however were compelled to abandon it in consequence of the destruction produced by successive shocks of earthquake. Nicolosi itself has been more than once shaken to the ground. We dined pretty comfortably, thanks to the courier who acted as cook, in the one public room of the one primitive inn of the town; starting for the Casa Inglesi at 6 o'clock. The good people of the inn surrounded us at our departure and with much warmth wished us a safe and successful journey.