Etna Velo

The absurd art of not driving as fast as you could – a descent from Mount Etna

When riding a road bike down Mount Etna, there are two basic options: the smart option and the insanely fast. The smart option is about as popular as celery juice at a kid's birthday party, and the insanely fast option feels like a fusion of an interstellar rocket launch and spontaneous self-loathing.

Mount Etna, the Mediterranean's fire-breathing senior citizen, offers a descent where gravity suddenly loses its reserved nature and decides to act as a hyperactive mountain goat. Theoretically, you could reach speeds at which the air begins to express opinions about your life – loud and whistling. The road becomes suggestive, the curves philosophical questions, and the pavement a roulette wheel where every bump is a "maybe" for eternity.

Technically speaking, you could race. You could test the speed of your own cells to see if they're even certified for such speeds. But should you?

The racing bike doesn't respond. It just vibrates slightly, probably out of fear or anticipation. Or both.

Because none of this is smart. About as smart as shouting at a volcano: "Hey, blow on it!" or telling a taxi driver in Naples to slow down.

And you never know: Maybe Luigi is testing his new Ducati – with the mental maturity of a golden retriever on Red Bull. Maybe a stray dog is teaching his pups how to hunt – with a racing cyclist as a didactic object. Or maybe around the next bend lurks a pothole the size of a construction pit, which once swallowed a Fiat Panda whole and has since been mentioned only in reverential silence by locals.

No, it's better to drive a little slower. Not because of fear. But because of the sneaking suspicion that at some point, speed will no longer be driven by driving technique, but only by probability calculations and quick prayers.

⚠️ Asphalt: surprisingly very good

➡️ 90km, of which 53km towards the sky

↗️ Climb often shady, brutal in the sun