While on Mt. Etna recently, I would get up early, before sunrise, and sit on my little patio, watching the sun making its way to the mountain. Birds were awakening, the world was rousing. Etna was there, waiting.
If you lived all your life in a city or in the flatlands, it might be hard to describe the influence a mountain has on the inhabitants who dwell nearby. Undeniably, Etna has a force that dominates the area. It can be seen as threatening, but it’s Nature. It’s neither good nor evil. It can be seen as either or both, at times. But it’s living its life and those who live on or in the mountain are part of something larger than one’s own individual existence. That’s what makes Etna and the wines of Etna so compelling, to those who feel that energy.
During a storm on the mountain, years ago, I managed to look up to one of the summits. What I saw was something I had rarely seen in my lifetime. It was pure energy, unharnessed and awe-inspiring. I saw and felt the spirit of Etna, then and there. It was something I recognized from my youth, and from my mountain of childhood, i a-kitch.
Etna, however, has this ongoing churn. In the morning you can hear it rumble and simmer. When it heats up too much, sirens go off over the area affected. It’s a reminder of the evanescence of our little lives, something to put it into perspective with the geological time that prevails over our earth and Etna.
Grape growing and winemaking on Etna is like nowhere I have seen elsewhere on earth’s wine country. It has to do with the way time is felt there and measured in an amorphous manner. No, no one has left their watch on the bedroom bureau. But the 21st century pace here isn’t as prevailing.
“Time out of mind,” is the phrase that surfaces when I think about it. Forget the current fashion for Etna wines and volcanic wines in general. That will pass to the next shiny object in the corner. It’s a different feeling. Etna doesn’t need people or grapes or wine. Etna allows them in. But Etna has another purpose on earth. Wine folk might think it is to provide them with fertile soil and wonderful climate and grapes and ultimately, delicious wine. “Ok humans, carry on with your delusions,” Etna purrs. “We’ll see who has the last word.” Not meant as a threat. But as a reminder that there are things in the universe that revolve around something other than homo sapiens.
“And what has that to do with us?” cry the chorus of wine writers, experts, inhalers and influencers in the room as we taste through hundreds of wines from Etna? It does come back to the specialized nature of these Etna Days, doesn’t it? No time to fall into that burning ring of fire.
But, but… there is nothing but time for La Mutagna. And to be here for a few days, or over several decades, that can precipitate a breakthrough for those with an open eye and an even more open heart. Etna is turning fire into liquid – an alchemy of sorts that we’ve been summoned to witness and feel, taste and experience. Where on earth can you fall into the core, bubbling, hot beyond any Hell we can imagine, and put it to one’s lips, and not be burned, but embraced?
Etna, that’s where.