Chapter 43Daylight at Last

When I opened my eyes, I felt the guide’s hand gripping me firmly by the belt. With his other hand, he supported my uncle. I wasn’t seriously hurt, just totally bruised all over.

After a sec, I looked around and realized I was lying on a mountainside, like, two yards from a huge drop-off into a chasm. One wrong move and I would’ve fallen. Hans saved me from dying, while I just rolled around on the crater’s side, out cold.

"Where are we?" my uncle asked, sounding totally spaced out, like he was grossed out about being back on Earth.

The eider-down hunter just shrugged, like he had no clue. "Iceland?" I asked, not sure. "Nej," Hans said.

"What do you mean?" the Professor cried. "No - why do you say that?"

"Hans is wrong," I said, getting up.

After all the crazy surprises on this trip, something even weirder was waiting for us. I thought I’d see a snow-covered cone, with huge glaciers, in the middle of a dry, northern desert, under a bright, polar sky, way past the highest latitudes.

But, like, totally not what happened. I, my uncle, and the Icelander were on the side of a mountain, scorched by the sun, which was literally baking us.

I couldn't believe my eyes, but the heat I felt proved it was real. We came out of the crater practically naked, and that star we hadn’t seen in two months was all too happy to blast us with light and warmth - which we honestly didn’t need.

Once our eyes got used to the light, I checked to see if I was imagining things. Whatever happened, we should’ve been in Spitsbergen, and I wasn’t giving in to anything unless I saw some serious proof.

After a beat, the Professor spoke.

"Hem!" he said, kind of hesitantly, "it really doesn’t look like Iceland."

"But what if it’s Jan Mayen?" I offered.

"Not even close, my boy. This isn’t one of those northern volcanoes, with granite hills and a crown of snow." "Still - "

"Look, look, my boy," the Professor said, as bossy as ever.

Right above our heads, super high up, opened the crater of a volcano. Every fifteen minutes or so, there was this huge explosion, and a tower of flame shot out, mixed with pumice, cinders, and lava.

I could feel the mountain shaking - it breathed like a massive whale, blasting fire and air through its giant vents.

Down below, the stream of eruptive stuff spread out on a pretty steep slope, and it didn’t even make the volcano three hundred fathoms tall.

Its base was hidden in a total forest of green trees. I spotted olive trees, fig trees, and vines heavy with grapes.

Definitely not your average arctic scene. No question about it.

Once your eyes got over the green, they landed on the water - a gorgeous sea or lake - making this magical place a small island.

On the east side, there was a little port, packed with houses. Weird boats and ships were floating on bright blue water.

Further out, groups of islands popped up above the water, so many and so close together they looked like a giant beehive.

Towards the setting sun, you could just make out some distant shores on the horizon. Some looked like blue mountains, all smooth and pretty. Others, way off, had this huge, pointy cone with dark clouds hanging over the top.

To the north, a huge stretch of water sparkled in the sunlight. Every now and then, you'd catch a glimpse of a mast or a sail catching the wind.

The whole scene was just wild, and it made it even more amazing.

"Where are we?" I asked, my voice low and serious.

Hans closed his eyes like he didn't care, and my uncle just looked confused.

"Whatever that mountain is," he said finally, "it's pretty warm, honestly. The explosions haven’t stopped, and I don’t think it’s smart to hang out here and get hit by a rock. Let’s carefully go back down the mountain and figure out what’s going on. I'm starving and thirsty, to be real."

The Professor was definitely not in a reflective mood. I, on the other hand, could have stayed there for hours longer - forgetting all my needs, ignoring how tired and sore I was - but I had to keep up with my friends.

The volcano’s slope was super steep and slippery. We slid over piles of ash, dodging streams of hot lava that flowed like fiery snakes. Still, I was talking nonstop, because my imagination was bursting.

"We’re in Asia!" I yelled; "We’re on the coast of India, in the great Malay islands, in the center of Oceania. We've crossed half the globe to end up right at the opposite side of Europe!"

"But the compass!" my uncle exclaimed; "Explain that to me!"

"Yeah - the compass," I said, kinda unsure.

"Okay, that's a problem. It says we’ve been going north the whole time." "Then it's busted."

"Um - saying it's busted is a bit much," I replied.

"So, we’re at the North Pole - "

"The Pole - nope - well - I give up," I said.

Honestly, there was no way to make sense of it. I was totally lost.

And the whole time, we were getting closer to this gorgeous green stuff, and I was starving and thirsty. Luckily, after a couple hours of walking, this amazing place opened up before us - covered in olives, pomegranates, and vines. It looked like nobody owned it.

Seriously, we were too wrecked to even worry about who did.

It was such a vibe to just bite into these amazing fruits, grapes and pomegranates straight from the vine.

Not too far away, by some fresh, mossy grass, under these killer trees, I found a spring of fresh water. We splashed water on our faces, hands, and feet - it felt so good.

While we were all vibing with the new goodies, this little kid popped out from behind two olive trees.

"Whoa," I said, "someone who lives here!"

The little dude was dressed in rags, weak, and looked totally freaked out by us. Half-naked, with crazy, tangled beards, we definitely looked rough. Unless this was a bandit zone, we shouldn't scare people, right?

Just as the kid was about to bolt, Hans ran after him and dragged him back, even though he was yelling and kicking.

My uncle tried to look super chill and then spoke in German.

"What’s the name of this mountain, buddy?" The kid didn’t say a word.

"Awesome," my uncle said, looking totally sure of himself, "we’re not in Germany."

He then made the same demand in English, which he spoke really well. The child shook its head and didn't say anything. I started to get pretty confused.

"Is he deaf?" the Professor asked, super proud of how many languages he knew, and tried again in French. The boy just stared at him.

"I guess I’m gonna try him in Italian," my uncle said with a shrug. "Dove noi siamo?"

"Yeah, tell me where we are?" I added, impatient and really wanting to know. Again, the boy stayed quiet.

"Seriously, are you gonna talk?"

my uncle asked, starting to get annoyed. He shook him and tried another Italian dialect.

"Come si noma questa isola?" - " What’s the name of this island?"

"Stromboli," replied the tiny, shaky shepherd, running from Hans and disappearing into the olive groves.

We didn’t think much of it. Stromboli! What a trip those few words were! We were smack-dab in the middle of the Mediterranean, surrounded by those old mythological islands, in ancient Strongylos, where AEolus kept the wind and storms locked up.

And those blue mountains rising towards the sunrise were the mountains of Calabria. And that huge volcano on the southern horizon was Etna, the intense and famous Etna!

"Stromboli! Stromboli! "I kept saying to myself. My uncle was totally vibing with my gestures and words. We were like an ancient chorus, singing together.

Seriously - what a trip - what a totally amazing and unreal journey! We’d gone into the earth through one volcano, and we’d come out through another. And this one was way over twelve hundred leagues from Sneffels, stuck out there in the middle of nowhere in Iceland.

The crazy changes of this whole thing had taken us to the most chill and beautiful place on Earth. We'd left behind the land of endless snow for a place overflowing with green, and we'd ditched the gray fog of the icy areas to come back to the bright blue sky of Sicily!

After a seriously good meal of fruit and fresh water, we kept going to reach the port of Stromboli. Explaining how we got to the island would have been kinda sketchy. The Italians are superstitious, and they’d have thought we were demons popping out of the underworld.

So, we had to play it cool and pretend we were just unlucky shipwreck survivors. It wasn't as exciting or romantic, but it was definitely safer.

As we walked, I could hear my uncle muttering to himself:

"But the compass. The compass definitely pointed north. That’s a fact I can’t wrap my head around."

"Well, the thing is," I said, rolling my eyes, "we don’t need to explain anything. It’s way easier that way."

"I’d love to see a professor from the Johanneum Institution who can’t explain a cosmic thing - that would be wild."

And saying that, my uncle, half-naked, his leather pouch around his waist, and his glasses on his nose, was once again the terrifying Professor of Mineralogy.

An hour after leaving the olive grove, we reached the fort of San Vicenza, where Hans asked for the price of his thirteenth week of work. My uncle paid him, with a bunch of warm handshakes.

He didn't totally vibe with our feelings, but he let them show, which was a big deal for him.

He lightly squeezed our hands with his fingertips and smiled.