Volcano Mtb Tour ➤ A Journey Through the Kingdom of the Two Sicilie
The Silence of “Idda” – Where the Earth is Soft
Perhaps it was November, when everything slows down and turns calm, or perhaps it’s simply that here, in southern lands, time is perceived differently. I am a mountain bike guide based in Finale Ligure. My tires are used to the “hardpack,” the Finalese stones, and the metallic clank of the rims crying for mercy among rocks and boulders, even if I know those trails by heart. Not here instead. Here, the Silence of “Idda” reigns supreme. My Volcano Mtb Tour finally starts!
As I begin to climb, the colors I’m used vanishing, and suddenly, I feel vulnerable. All that remains is the deep black of the volcanic cones, interrupted by flashes of electric yellow—the broom bushes defying the lava—and the blinding blue of the Sicilian sky. This is pure mountain biking emotion.
The dirt here is black and soft; my wheels sink and float at the same time. Riding techniques surrender to instinct: on this carpet of ash, every line can be right and wrong at the same time. Then, descending toward the slopes, I am welcomed by lush forests, where natural trails seem wedged between ancient beech trees. No noise, just the heartbeat of my riding. With a pinch of luck, in that silence, I might catch the gaze of the one who, in my imagination, guards these places: the wild Etna Forest Cat.
The Legacy of the Sea: Between Corsairs and the Scirocco Wind
As the granddaughter of a Captain, with “Corsaro” (Corsair) as last name, I was born with the sea in my blood. The ship that escorts me from Milazzo to Lipari isn’t one of those luxury Caribbean giants; it’s an 80s-style clunky and chunky ferry, one of those vessels that exude stories of encounters, goodbyes, and lived routes. As the bow cuts through the blue, the sun ignites in a sunset that grants me one last salute from Etna, standing majestic behind us. Lipari smells of salt and pumice. It smells of cobbled streets and windows thrown wide open to the azure.
The white houses watch me with their ceramic pinecones proudly displayed: here in the South, they are symbols of wealth and luck, and I’ll need both for the trails ahead. Mountain biking here means merging with Mother Nature’s embrace: I’ve pedaled on coastal roads suspended in mid-air, diving into technical descents through prickly pears, aiming straight for the cliffs.
The evening is a necessary caress. The swaying of moored fishing boats (gozzi), a glass of chilled Malvasia, and the scent of steaming paccheri pasta blend with the stories of the day. It’s in these moments where you realize that traveling is not just a question of moving away – It’s more a question of getting closer to your roots.
Vulcano: Freeride Between Sky and Sulfur
This time, the bow points toward Vulcano, and here, reality decides to exceed all imagination. The first impact is a powerful déjà-vu: that familiar Etna black returns, forcefully reminding me where I am. An island of burning earth, wrapped in the pungent scent of sulfur. The ‘green light’ at the base seems to tell me: ‘Manuela, let’s go. your experience starts here.’ And so from here we start to the climb.
We push, we carry the bikes on our shoulders. It’s a return to the origins, much like volcanoes are to the Earth; a return to the pure essence of a Volcano MTB tour. Suddenly I stop and ask myself: ‘Am I on the Moon?’ No, because on the Moon you could never feel this blinding blue entering your eyes and lungs as you pedal.
Returning Home: The Heart of the Kingdom and the Gentle Giant
The last few days have been a “punch in the gut”—that intense feeling of falling madly in love. As a Southerner, I had to end with a bang: returning to the Capital of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies. Back to Naples, back to “Papa” Vesuvius. We Neapolitans are viscerally Children of Vesuvius; he is our guardian, scarred but resilient, the ultimate expression of “Cazzima.”
Riding into the Valle dell’Inferno (Hell’s Valley) feels like a dream. The terrain is soft, sweet, and fun—a paradise that makes every fiber of my bike vibrate. Then, an infinite pine forest swallows me: roots, natural berms, and technical sections. It looks like a bike park designed by Artificial Intelligence, but it’s all purely natural and ancient.
Finally, I dive into the “vicarielli” (narrow alleys), into the calm chaos of Naples. The journey ends where it all began: between volcanic dust and the embrace of my city. This Volcano MTB tour is a call too strong to remain just a story. My crew of “Corsari” and I are waiting for you to join this incredible journey from the silence of Idda to the heart of Naples.
A tour of contrasting colors where the dark dust will stick with you forever.
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