Europe’s tallest active volcano, towering over 11,000 feet, casts its formidable shadow across eastern Sicily. The smoke circling its summit reminds us that this is a mighty, moody titan. Our little gray Fiat chugs along the serpentine ascent toward our encounter with this magnificent natural wonder, the landscape transforming gradually, vegetation giving way to swathes of red rock and ash-colored earth.

Only after an unsettling, shaky tram ride and a bouncy journey aboard a lunar-like, all-terrain vehicle do we finally put our feet on Mt Etna. I. Am. Walking. On. A. Volcano.

The crisp air at this altitude calls for a coat and hat, yet occasionally I sense the volcano’s warmth through the soles of my shoes. From time to time, slender plumes of steam escape from the soil. The terrain, awash in deep reds and blacks, immerses us in a Martian-like atmosphere. We carefully walk along ridges, loose soil shifting beneath our feet, gazing down slopes into great calderas.

Feral dogs make their home in the shadow of the volcano. Believed to be the offspring of abandoned or escaped domesticated dogs, these indomitable creatures have adeptly adjusted to the unforgiving terrain. Some of them venture near shops and parking lots in search of leftover morsels or handouts from visitors. One younger pup plopped herself in my lap as I waited outside a tourist shop for my travel companions, soliciting a little snuggle.