Breakfast was pretty good, which was a contrast to dinner, which had been pretty awful. More about that later, I'm sure. The kaiser rolls were pretty much how I make them. Can't complain about that. Bagels looked bad, though.
Princess has a far better way of dealing with shore excursions than Carnival. Carnival would have you leave the ship, then look around outside for a tour operator. I remember being pretty confused in a foreign place. Carnival gives everyone a sticker for the right tour, which is clearly identified by letter to make sure everyone knows they're together, and then has you meet on the ship and leave all together, going straight to the bus, which was there when we disembarked.
Our guide was named Margot. She spoke good English, if you could ignore that she added a syllable to the end of every English word ending in a consonant, without exception. So the previous sentence would sound like this: "She spoke-ah good-a English-a, if-a you could-a ignore-a the fact-a that-a she added-a a syllable-a to the end-a of-a every Engish-a word-a ending-a in-a a consonant-a." I really have no idea how they teach English speech in Italy without deleting this annoyance. When they taught us French, they taught us how to pronounce words in French, with French accents. English words end in consonants. Italians should be taught to pronounce them that way.
We drove up a winding road to the mountain. There were switchbacks, and one that seemed to be inviting an accident.
It was cold on the mountain when we got out. I kept thinking back to the long underwear, gloves and warm hat I'd left on the ship; no one gave us a clue as to the weather on the mountain. It would get worse.
The trail is switchbacks, but basically straight up.
Small cars can make it up, but not, obviously, big buses. One woman did it in heeled boots. She was the youngest person there, but I would think that the stretching of the Achilles would be awful.
On the trail, you could see wonderful pieces of lava.
And wonderful views of the Bay of Naples out to Ischia. Ischia is volcanic, unlike Capri which is limestone.
And then you're at the crater. It was smoking a lot, and looked like Mount Doom.
I kept wanting to say "The Ring is Mine!" and "My Precioussss!"
You can really see down into the crater, too. What we know as Vesuvius actually wasn't what blew up; that was a peak in between present Vesuvius and Mt. Soma.
Vesuvius erupts about every fifty years, the last time in 1944 at the time of the Allied landing at Salerno. It is thus overdue and seismologists are monitoring it. Apparently, the warning sign they expect is that the groundwater below will heat up. At that point, they may have to evacuate as far as Naples, population over 2 million.
We were supposed to get a volcanologist guide up on the mountain, but he never came. Thus, there was only one geologist on the mountain that morning.
The song "Funculi, Funicular" referred to a funicular gondola that came up to the lip of the mountain until it was destroyed in the 1944 eruption. The base of it, though, is still there.
Further down the trail, there were some wonderful inclusions visible.
Between these two points, it was simply freezing, wind blowing in every direction. Although were were nearly on the coast of the Mediterranean, it reminded us that we were on the crest of a freaking mountain! I had a hat, but not a warm one. Marjorie had her headband. One guy had left his jacket in the bus and was wearing a short-sleeved shirt. But we all persevered.
When, however, on the way down I saw that the next souvenir stand featured capuccino, I bought us each a cup. The woman's family had been on the mountain since you used to come up by mule.
The family also made lava jewelry. One necklace showed off the lava well and, it being Erev Chanukah and lacking a present for Marjorie (it's sitting in a bag I didn't take, back home in Seattle), I bought it for ten euros.
More random shots of the mountain.
And a nice pic of the Amalfi coast from the mountain.
On the way down, we passed this gully.
While climbing up, I had not been able to see the change in the topology because of the sun in my eyes, and had almost fallen down it. Not sure if I'd have rather had that pole in my chest or to have fallen down the mountain. Glad there wasn't a choice.
And I had to nickname this lava-filled area, The Desolation of Smaug.
And so, farewell to Vesuvius. Or "Zay Gezund."
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