A guide who survived. That’s how I’d describe the strange encounter I’ve been processing ever since. Mount Vesuvius and Pompeii have always been the crown jewels of Naples. For me, the journey began long before I stepped onto the ancient cobblestones.
Vesuvius and Pompeii
My first visit was a chaotic mess. On our way to the Lipari Islands, we decided to “spice up” the trip with a quick stop at Vesuvius. We arrived in Naples at 3 AM after 18 hours of driving. The city was in the middle of a trash collectors’ strike—you could see it, but more importantly, you could smell it. By 4 AM, our car, screaming with a half-burnt clutch, crawled into the upper parking lot of Vesuvius. It was pitch black, the trail was unlit, and we had a ferry to catch in Messina at 10 AM. We settled for a quick bathroom break and a view of the Bay of Naples at night. It wasn’t our best idea.
Years later, I returned. This time, I had four days and a mission. I took the cheapest transport to Pompeii, not knowing that a ghost from the past was waiting for me.
Pompeii: Lost in Time
I’ve explored Roman ruins before—Via Appia and Ostia Antica offered much more than the crowded Colosseum. Why? Because you could get lost in your own thoughts there. Pompeii initially disappointed me with its massive crowds. To save the experience, I decided to go against the flow, turning into the empty side streets.
Suddenly, I saw an elderly gentleman sitting alone with a wooden cane, wearing a black hat and a very outdated vest. He looked local, but not from this century. He noticed me staring and spoke: “It’s massive, isn’t it? This is what happens when people build their homes next to a mountain they don’t understand. Vesuvius is beautiful, but he is the father of all disasters.”
“Are you a local?” I asked. “Local? That’s a complicated question. My name is Marcellus. I was a local—in a very ancient sense of the word.” He looked at my smartphone with surprise. “What is that in your hand?” “A phone,” I replied. “A phone?” From his gesture, I understood he wanted a closer look.
Geological Bullying
“So… Pompeii has existed for a long time,” I ventured. Marcellus chuckled. “Ah, a great question for someone who clearly didn’t read Wikipedia before coming! Pompeii has been here since the 7th century BC—nearly 800 years before the ‘black episode’ tourists come to stare at today. It was a sleepy, prosperous life. Markets, baths, wine. And then came the year 79 AD.”
“The eruption?” I checked. “Yes. That’s when Vesuvius said: Enough.” He looked toward the peak. “You call it a stratovolcano; we called it the wrath of the gods. The result is the same. A layered bomb with a very long fuse. It was born hundreds of thousands of years ago when the African tectonic plate decided the European one was too comfortable. It’s essentially geological bullying on a planetary scale.”
In Vino Veritas: Growing Vines on a Time Bomb
“It was the wine’s fault,” Marcellus continued, poking his cane between the stones. “Pompeii is only 9 kilometers from Vesuvius. The Romans thought it was just a hill. A beautiful, fertile hill. Volcanic soil is incredibly rich in minerals. They were growing vineyards on a time bomb. Since there hadn’t been an eruption in 800 years, the volcano simply wasn’t a volcano to them. It was just a place that gave them excellent grapes. And Romans loved their wine.”
The Apocalypse
“So what happened on that August day in 79 AD?” I asked. “Historically speaking? Nothing unusual at first. A sunny morning, kids playing, someone arguing with the baker—a classic Monday in Pompeii. Then, around noon, a massive crack echoed from the mountain. A pillar of ash rose 33 kilometers high—four times higher than your planes fly. It looked like a stone pine tree.”
“And the people?” “They split into two groups: those who fled and those who thought ‘it’ll pass.’ The first group was right. The second was unlucky. Then came the pyroclastic flows—surges of incandescent gas and ash moving at 700 km/h at 300 degrees Celsius. As your modern science says: You can’t outrun that.”
Marcellus went quiet. “The city vanished for 1,700 years. The energy released was equivalent to tens of thousands of Hiroshima bombs.”
Accidental Sculpture
“And those famous plaster casts of the victims?” I asked. “Ah, my favorite lecture on accidental sculpture,” Marcellus smiled bitterly. “Look at them. They froze in time while trying to save their lives. Today, crowds come here to freeze in time for a photo, trying to save their social media profiles. Nothing has changed, my friend. Only the poses.”
He pointed his cane at a figure. “When the ash encased the bodies, it hardened like concrete over centuries. The flesh decayed, leaving a cavity. In 1863, Giuseppe Fiorelli had the brilliant—and macabre—idea to pour plaster into those voids. The result is a family huddled in a corner, a dog on a chain. Art designed by no sculptor, but by Vesuvius himself, with a cruel sense of drama.”
The Echoes of Vesuvius
“Is Vesuvius still dangerous?” “It’s the only active continental volcano in Europe. Three million people live in the ‘red zone’ today. They have evacuation plans, but they still say: ‘Yes, but the soil is so fertile and the view so beautiful.’ History loves to repeat itself.”
We looked down the long, paved streets. I thought about Pink Floyd’s legendary concert in the amphitheater. In the dead silence of the arena, I could almost hear the echoes of Echoes. When I turned back, Marcellus was gone. As if he had never been there.
Final Ascent: Vesuvius and Pompeii
I took a shuttle bus to the crater of Vesuvius later that afternoon. The mountain seemed peaceful, with only small wisps of sulfurous steam rising from the ground—a reminder that the giant is only napping. Compared to its life cycle, our human lives are blink-and-you-miss-it moments. We think we are masters of the situation, but the nearby Etna, Stromboli, or Vulcano remind us daily: something is bubbling beneath us. And it’s not wise to underestimate it.
The day ended with a breathtaking view of the Bay of Naples from the crater. There is no better view in the world than from the mouth of the beast that once swallowed a civilization.
Practical Info for Vesuvius and Pompeii
- Tickets (Pompeii): Buy them online in advance via the official site (pompeiisites.org). Avoid the soul-crushing queues at the gate.
- Vesuvius (Mandatory Booking): Entrance to the crater is strictly timed. Tickets cannot be purchased on-site, and mobile signal at the top is terrible. Book at least 24 hours in advance.
- Getting There: Take the Circumvesuviana train from Naples (towards Sorrento) and get off at Pompei Scavi. From there, shuttle buses run to the Vesuvius parking lot (approx. 800m altitude). The final ascent must be done on foot.
- Gear: Even in summer, it’s windy and significantly cooler at the summit. Wear sturdy hiking shoes—you’ll be walking on loose volcanic gravel.
- Timing: To do both in one day, start with Pompeii at opening (9 AM) and schedule Vesuvius for the late afternoon (check the final entry times, as they vary by season).
📍 Our tip: If you have time, stop by Herculaneum. It’s smaller, better preserved, and much less crowded than Pompeii. Marcellus would confirm that the mud (not ash) there preserved even the wooden furniture and the upper floors of the houses.
