I STOOD on top of Mount Vesuvius and looked down into the bowels of that infamous volcano. It was quiet and peaceful. Quite harmless, really. In the distance, the Bay of Naples looked magnificent. Yes, a lovely tranquil setting on a pleasant Italian sunny summer afternoon. Yet, it was here that this monster erupted in AD79 – its red hot lava and choking fumes killing thousands and burying the ancient city of Pompeii. As Goethe wrote: “This peak of hell which towers up in the middle of paradise, the terrible beside the beautiful.” It is most definitely a fascinating place. Thousands of tourists flock to it every year.
Some 16,000 people died in Pompeii, Herculaneum and the surrounding area when they were covered in a 30ft layer of volcanic ash or engulfed by billions of tons of pumice and other rock.
Before anybody gets the idea that I’m into mountain-climbing, let me explain that Vesuvius is not a very high volcano. It looks about the height of the Sugar Loaf mountain in Co Wicklow. A bit of a stroll, really. Besides, the tourist coaches drive most of the way up the mountain. It is a massive, but ominous tourist attraction.
You are deposited at a big car park with a lot of souvenir shops and restaurants. You then start your walk on the gravel road to the summit, nicely laid out in a zig-zag fashion to make it even easier. It takes about half an hour and a bit of huffing and puffing to get there.
As I started my walk, I met a little grey-haired elderly lady coming down, hobbling along on a walking stick. She must have been about 80 years old. And there wasn’t a bother on her. Behind her came a trundling 20-stone giant with more fat on him than a sumo wrestler. I muttered to myself: if they can do it, so can I.
As you stand on the top of this historic mound, your mind races wildly, flashing through the history books, legends, articles and films about this volcano. It is quite overpowering, like being at some shrine, a special place on this earth. You know it is an experience out of the ordinary. There is something humbling about it. Vesuvius, which was known as Hell’s Chimney Pot in the Middle Ages, has been quiet for more than 60 years. Over the past 2,000 years, it has erupted on average once a century. They say that the longer the period of inactivity, the bigger the next eruption.
Some experts believe the next eruption could kill at least 300,000 people, nearly 30 times as many as the AD79 disaster. About half a million people live in the so-called “red zone” of 18 towns in the four-mile radius of the volcano and most would die if an evacuation was not completed in time, according to research published in 2007.
Looking at the areas on the way to the volcano it would be some job getting the residents – as well as all the tourists – away from the zone.
The volcano is monitored daily and the authorities are confident that they can raise the alarm promptly and give everyone a sporting chance. It’s then up to you to get on your bike as fast as you can and pedal like the clappers to the nearest point of safety.
It was claimed in 2007 that the final phase of an eruption would see a column of gas, rock and ash, similar to a nuclear weapon’s mushroom cloud, come crashing down on to the lower slopes of the volcano.
Travelling at 60 miles per hour, these flows would sweep over thousands of homes on the slopes of Vesuvius built since the second World War to reach towns including Ottaviano. The flows would arrive in Pompeii and Herculaneum within 20 minutes.
Anyway, the authorities are satisfied that all will be well on the night, so to speak, and that everybody will be saved.
The warning system is so well planned and the monitoring equipment so sophisticated that there is no need to worry. Nor does anybody worry.
Italians love to drink their gorgeous wine and look on the bright side, like those living in San Francisco, who know there is an earthquake coming down the tracks, but damn it, what the hell. Life’s too important to be taken seriously. Could I have another bottle of the red stuff, waiter?
Earlier in the day we were brought on a tour of the ruins of Pompeii which took the brunt of the AD79 eruption. Fantastic work has been done on preserving the buildings and infrastructure.
It’s fascinating to see how well advanced they were 2,000 years ago. The great talent of the engineers, builders and artists are there for all to see. You quickly twig that we are not quite as far advanced or as superior as we like to think we are.
About 2.5 million tourists visit Pompeii every year. The plaster casts of victims burned to death and the traces of their bodies found in the ash in the foetal position are among the main attractions.
The guide who showed us around the remains of Pompeii said that most of those who died in the town in AD79 were the wealthy. The rich had the most to lose and they stayed on for too long (probably thought they could take it with them).
The slaves and the poor, once they heard the first rumble, were gone, pronto. Is there a moral in there somewhere?