The Aeolian Islands

6 May Lipari Baia Nuci Camping at Canetto village

Our plan for today was to take a train to Milazzo and then a ferry to Lipari, one of the Aeolian Islands just to the north of Sicily. It was nearly confounded when yet another kind of train rolled up. There was no provision for bikes, the doorways were divided by a railing, and there were three steep steps in. Leon started throwing off his panniers in desperation, but the kindly conductor, a man of truly epic proportions, reached down for a bike and almost single-handedly hauled it into a carriage. He indicated Phil and I should squeeze one into the next carriage,and there we were, all aboard. At the ferry ticket office another piece of good luck: we were not allowed to take the bikes on the hydrofoil, but we were there well in time on the very day that the twice-weekly car ferry went to Lipari.

We decided we had better get another couple of bomboletti (gas canisters) before catching the boat. We asked a lady in the street where a brico (Burnings type of hardware store) was, and she tried to explain. “It sounds miles away,” said Phil, ready to make a strategic retreat, but next thing a young woman was explaining that the lady would be happy to show us the way in her car if we'd like to follow. We were able to keep up in the town, but once we were led onto a freeway type road, we fell further and further behind, despite pedaling madly. Taking an exit we thought she might have taken, we found ourselves in the middle of nowhere. Luckily, Phil and the GPS led us back, and there in the shopping centre was a well-stocked hardware selling … you guessed it ...bomboletti.

After lunch on a park bench, with our mobile kitchens providing polite amusement to passing teenagers, we caught the 2.30pm ferry to Lipari. On the way we stopped at Vulcano, which we were planning to visit for its mudbaths renowned for their restorative '”silken skin” properties. That is, Heather and I were keen, and hoping to drag the men along. The enticing scents of
Vulcano wafted towards us as the captain backed the ferry into the dock like it was a Fiat 500. Plants wilted, strong men went pale; it smelt like a Year 9 Science classroom – the strongest, most potent rotten-egg-gas smell you could imagine. We re-thought the mudbaths.

On to odourless Lipari, with its two main villages nestled into little harbours, and a medieval citadel perched above the port. Gorgeous. The campground was open, cheap at this time of year, and nicely maintained and clean. We put our tent under the shady gum trees, deliberately kept short. The ground is sandy though: grass is much better for climbing in and out of a tent. We are going to stay for four nights because the ferry to Naples doesn't leave til next Monday evening.

7 May Lipari Baia Nuci Camping at Canetto village

We slept well, lulled by waves breaking onto the pebbly beach across the road from the campground. After hanging out some washing, we set off in hot sunshine to do the 27km island circuit. Very pretty. Passed huge white cliffs of pumice, and saw the shiny black obsidian rock which was traded from here thousands of years ago. Went to Aquacalda, a little run-down industrial port-village, then climbed up switch-backs with views of the island of Salina. By the time we reached the hill town of Quattropane it was getting cold and grey - and we had left our warm tops at home. We huddled together beside a whitewashed wall on someone's steps, and ate our picnic lunch out of the wind. Soon after, the steaming crater top of Vulcano appeared. An Alsatian dog threatened to eat Phil as he got off his bike to visit a bush. Phil fell over and cut his knee (we now have matching right knees!) and the dog, satisfied with a job well done, answered his mistress' call and trotted jauntily back up his driveway.

The descent from about 450m (unlike the last one) was marked by good visibility and absence of rain, and the air thankfully became much warmer as we lost height.

After all that exercise we rewarded ourselves with some decadent Sicilian cakes and tiny little icecreams like miniature cornettoes.

We rolled into bed early, well-pleased with our day.


8 May Lipari Baia Unci Camping at Canetto village

Today we decided to have a lazy day and just rest. So we got on our bikes (!!!!!) and pedalled to the village by the port for a look around the medieval citadel. We found that the 'sand' our tent is on is actually mixed with fine volcanic ash. It blows down from the upper slopes of the island constantly. It has preserved archeological artefacts perfectly. Neolithic man is 10 metres down!
We decided to have lunch at a little restaurant back near the campground have soup and bananas and bread for dinner. The pasta was delicious - full of Lipari's famous capers. We spent this afternoon catching up on the diary and uploading our extremely comprehensive photos. We need to do some deleting!
We catch the ferry to Naples on Monday night, and will say goodbye to Heather and Leon, who are visiting Pompeii and then heading further north. We've had fun travelling together.
This evening Phil found us an apartment in Naples which is in the centre of everything and handy to the port. It's not expensive and provides breakfast, so we're all set for the next part of our trip.


9 May Lipari Baia Unci Camping at Canetto village

Last night we decided to do a boat trip today to Panarea and then Stromboli to hopefully see fireworks from the water. We left the campground at 11.30am and expected to get home at 11.30pm. The sea was blue, the water calm, and Panarea – favourite of the rich and famous - was a little jewel of an island. We had a picnic lunch with Heather and Leon, then went exploring. Whitewashed houses, tiny tropical gardens of palms and moist green leaves, boganvillea and climbing roses luxuriating along sunny walls. The immaculately swept cobbled laneways were quiet but for the occasional mmmmm of electric 'golf buggy' taxis, and when we turned to go back to the boat, the sparkling sea was studded with tiny islands – the remnants of a sunken crater. It was stunning, and we were sorry to leave.

On to Stromboli, a mighty volcano with houses clinging to its sides and villages nestled at its shores. People go there to largely to climb Stromboli, reaching the crater at dusk to see the views and the fireworks. On the spur of the moment, Leon decided to do the climb – six hours up and back. He set off with hired boots and hard hat, full of excitement, while the rest of us had time for gelati, and tootling around the island. It was quite different from Panarea; bigger, with casually cultivated plots of land. Petrol driven vans were allowed, but of necessity were the miniature kind (often seen in Italy) where one large driver completely dwarfs the vehicle. Phil was particularly tickled by the Carabinieri pursuit vehicles: two golf-buggies, topped with blue lights were parked outside the headquarters, ready to spring into action. So, Stromboli was charming in a laid-back kind of way. For dinner we stumbled upon a little trattoria up a laneway and some steps. We were the only guests, and had a lovely view over the garden and down to the sea, and for those sufficiently lacking in vanity to actually bring their glasses to Italy, the lights of the mainland could just be seen in the distance as it got darker. (I had to take Phil's word for it!)

When we asked for the menu, the woman who ran the place said she would tell it to us, but no prices were mentioned. She suggested a little shared entree of octopus salami and smoked swordfish, both made by her. It was beautifully presented; finely sliced and dressed with wonderful oil. We chose her homemade pasta with 3 different sauces for mains, cut each dish into three and passed the plates around. Each was delicious. Finally we shared one piece of a kind of apple strudel for dessert, and she gave us homemade limoncello on the house to drink with our teas and coffee. It was all so lovely I was a bit worried about what it might cost, but in the end it was not expensive at all. Feeling grateful and lucky, we stumbled down little dark laneways to the 9pm rendezvous with the boat. We made for the other side of the island, but almost straight away, Stromboli did its stuff, spraying a column of red sparks and fire up into the sky. Most exciting. In about an hour we watched ten 'eruptions' in all, one a lot bigger than the others, shooting up much higher and sending a stream of fiery rocks a few hundred metres down the slope, where they glowed redly for a while. The boat was filled with oohhs and aaahhhs and Heather hoped Leon wasn't at the top for that one. Stromboli 'breathes' during the day too of course, but only the steam is visible. The island itself is only the top 900 metres of the volcano, the remaining 1500 metres in height (and so the vast bulk of it) spreads for kilometres under the sea.

We went back at 10pm to pick up the walkers who were not there. They arrived about 40 minutes later, and Heather was very relieved to have Leon back unscathed. Especially so when he confessed that he had been at the crater for one of the larger eruptions, and had not been entirely confident about the level of protection against molten rock offered by his plastic hard hat.


10 May On ferry to Napoli

Today we bought tickets for the ferry, caught up with the diary while having a bowl of pasta, and took it easy around Lipari town. My poor old knee is still very swollen and bruised from when I fell, so we ended up reading books with a view of the village curling around the bay until we nodded off in the sunshine.

This was our fourth ferry, so we're old hands. We rolled the bikes into its cavernous bulk- ahead of all the cars – at 5.30. We'd finally organised ourselves to have our okky strap ready, but the ferryman gave it a disdainful look, and tied the bikes up with a few expert twists of the rope hanging ready.

We took on a salad and water for tea because ferry food is frantically expensive, and some warm clothes. Once we'd found our cabin: clean and neat with its own shower and toilet, we went up on deck to watch Lipari, and so the last of lovely Sicily, slipping away.

We've seen them on every ferry, but still aren't used to it: along with people trotting up and down the carpeted stairways are dogs. Hounds, Labradors, Golden retrievers, Alsatians – all sorts. The rule says they're supposed to be muzzled, and there are wire kennels provided for them on deck. Instead they stroll around with their owners; unmuzzled, perfectly at home and perfectly behaved. We haven't found out what toilet arrangements are made, but have never seen any sign of indiscretion. We're certain they're not allowed in cabins, but Heather and Leon heard a cat miaowing in the cabin next to theirs, and Phil saw a miniature Airedale-looking terrier being furtively whisked into a cabin a bit further along from ours a bit after 10pm. It strolled into the bar this morning looking very well-rested.