Living Beneath a Rumbling Volcano

Photo source: David Anastasi/LaPresse via AP

It's happening right now (see embedded photos) just as it happened some four decades ago and a number of times in between. Mount Etna is spewing lava, gas, rock and ash into the atmosphere, and the world is taking notice.

Located on the island of Sicily, Mount Etna is one of the most active volcanoes in the world. It's also among the most deadly having wiped out more than a dozen towns and villages over the centuries, killing more than 17,000 people and leaving 30,000 or more homeless.

It's an absolutely amazing sight to see. I've got a pretty good feel for it because I lived it. Or I should say I lived in Catania, a city of about 300,000 at its base, during the summer of 1983 when I served as a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.   

The funny thing is just before living in Catania I lived in Siracusa about 40 miles to the south. During that eruption, we would go out on our balcony to view Etna's eruptions off in the distance. My parents wrote me a letter stating they had seen video of Etna's eruption on television and expressed relief that I was a more safe distance away. But by the time that letter found its way to me, I had been transferred to Catania where instead of looking to the northern horizon to see Etna, we looked up. It was right there, a mere 18 miles above our balcony.

Photo source: Salvatore Allegra/AP

Living beneath an active volcano is somewhat surreal. It belches huge ash plumes into the sky above yet life below basically goes on like normal. Still, it most definitely had an impact on all. Ashfalls always left everything dusty or even muddy. We, like most all Italian around us at the time, did not have a dryer so when we washed a batch of clothes, we hung them on lines or over the railing of our apartment building. As you can imagine, an ash fall makes quite a mess of things. Instead of pulling in our dry, clean clothes at night, especially our "white" shirts, they were covered with a grayish, blackish coating of ash. Translation: they went right back into the washer to try it all over again. During such ashfalls, we set up makeshifts clotheslines in another room in the apartment where it took a bit longer for our clothes to dry.

Ashfalls made it much more difficult to sleep at night. Because we had no air conditioning, we couldn't leave our windows open at night or the ash made its way inside. So I laid there at night in the humidity on my back with my hands at my side but not touching my sides or the sweat formed instantly. 

When I recall those days living beneath Mount Etna, I remember one particularly steamy and very muddy day in Catania along the Ionian Sea. We were in the heart of Sicily's summer months. Not only was it hot, extremely humid and downright nasty outside but there was also a bus strike. That is how we got around the city. With no public transportation available - taxis were out of the question for us missionaries who didn't have much money anyway - we walked and walked and walked. 

I remember putting some serious miles on our shoes that day. Anziano Ron Smith, my missionary companion, and I had a bit of a rough but humorous go of it. First of all, we walked a great distance just to get to our designated zone in order to carry out our missionary work. We swung by a contact who was not home so we sought out others we were teaching. It seemed no one was home or available. Sure, we stopped by bars (small stores that sold everything from water to soda to liquor) to get water and/or a bite to eat, but as far as missionary work went on this day, we just plain struck out. Since we were so far from home and had no way to catch a bus ride back, we instead decided to walk downtown to stop by the Italy Catania Mission's office.  

Let me re-set the scene. It was hot. It was humid. All busses drivers were on strike. And yes, there was an ashfall. Not only was ash falling but it was thick, really thick, like a fog, during midday. It had to be late afternoon by the time we knocked on the mission office door. Sister Turner, wife of our mission president Norman Turner, opened the door.

"Oh my goodness!" she exclaimed.

I just wish we had a picture of us that day. As we stood there in our white shirts, slacks and ties, each of us were an absolute mess, drenched to the bone by perspiration yet covered from head to toe with ash that turned to liquid mud dripping down our faces and arms. Man, I wish I had a picture. Because so many years have passed, I don't have distinct memories what happened next. I imagine we peeled off those muddy shirts and threw them in the washer and either dried them with an iron or received a couple of loaners from our fellow missionaries for the return trip home. (A handful of missionaries worked and lived in the office.) I'd also like to think those missionaries, who had access to a car, eventually drove us back to our apartment too.

Once back at our place, what I do remember is sweeping the ash off our balcony that evening as we had many times before. We sat there, looking up to Mount Etna, which rose 11,000 feet from sea level, and watched the lava flows make their way down the mountain side. Just amazing!

Photo source: Salvatore Allegra/AP