Climbing Mt. Vesuvius: my body is more than I thought
I like to climb to the top of things and look out over cities and landscapes. It puts a city into perspective, both in the wider landscape and a microcosm. There’s the feeling of being so very tiny, while also being on top of the world as a giant looking over their dominion.
When Sarah and I were planning our trip to Italy last summer, I suggested a visit to Mt. Vesuvius. Sarah worked her travel planning magic and we were booked onto a coach that would be our transport from Naples up to the volcano and back again, with 90 minutes to climb to the crater and take in the view before winding back down to the city.
The story of the eruption and the idea of this glorious stratovolcano looming over Naples, both a constant threat and a looming guardian of the landscape, has fascinated me since I first learned about it when I was a child. Mt. Vesuvius is one of the most famous volcanoes in the world, the eruption of AD 79 buried Pompeii in ash and Herculaneum in mud, preserving both cities for over 2000 years.
Hot, sweaty and happy at the top of Mt. Vesuvius
We'd visited the archaeological sites the day before we tackled Vesuvius, and I was actually starting to dread climbing the mountain a little after seeing the sheer size and scope of it hanging over Naples. I’m also a bigger girl and I hate stairs and steps and hills. We'd climbed the Florence Cathedral’s Duomo (nearly died) and tackled the Leaning Tower of Pisa (didn't die as much) earlier in the trip, and I was genuinely worried I wouldn't be able to make the climb.
After an unnecessarily long coach ride out of Naples as the coach stopped to pick people up from all over the city and a completely terrifying journey up the mountain, hairpin bend after hairpin bend, we reached the car pack and ticket office where we began our climb.
We were told it would take roughly half an hour to climb, and that we had about an hour and a half before our coach left the mountain to go back to Naples. I was a little nervous we wouldn't have time to make the climb because I knew I would struggle.
The climb is steep, it was scorchingly hot and the path up to the crater is loose, rocky and dusty, and half way up I was looking for an excuse to turn back.
I've always had a rocky relationship with my body, and physical pursuits are ones I automatically think I can't do. I'm too unfit, I'll get hot and sweaty in a horrible way, I don't want people to laugh at me, I don't feel comfortable in that environment, in those clothes and with those people.
But most other people were also just trying to drag themselves up the steep slopes of the volcano too. There were shared moments of 'why are we doing this?!' as everyone leaned on the railings to take a breather, wiping the sweat from the necks and faces with their t-shirts and draining a bottle of water. Even the people marching ahead were huffing and sweating, and occasionally sliding on the rocks.
But you know what? I did it.
It took us 45 minutes to get to the top (and bless Sarah for not marching ahead and not yelling at me at any point, even with the murderous looks on my face). And honestly, once I got to the top I was mostly relieved. I did it. My body managed it. I underestimated how far I could push myself and what my body could handle. But mostly proud, in a bashful, reluctant way. There was also embarrassment too. I was hot, sweaty and out of breath.
That view was worth it though. At 1281m (4203ft), the view from the crater of Mount Vesuvius is glorious. The rolling hills and fields of green, the sprawl of Naples reduced to a speckle of city and the bay expanding out to encompass Capri, Ischia and Procida, were a sight to behold under the glistening June afternoon sun. Turning to the mountain itself, to see the sheer size of the crater of the volcano was something I’d never experienced before. It felt both unnervingly alien with the possibilities laying deep down underneath it and perfectly ordinary, just dirt and dust and sprinklings of wildflowers.
So what did I learn while climbing up (and nearly slipping down) one of the most dangerous volcanoes in the world? Trust my body. Be brave. Say yes when I want to say no, and take in the view.
Edited and re-published from www.thecopperboom.com
Written by Sophie
