'If you are a plucky man, come with us to wait for the sunrise in Santu Nicole', the peremptory Franco Iacono won't vacillations, on the other hand I was considered a man with intense emotions and able to realize heroic deeds, so I couldn't draw back.

I was more precise about the fact of going up a mule because the only time I did it, many years ago, remained for a long period straddle because of the sorrow inside the thigh. "there are not enough mule, about 30, the rendez-vous is at the chestnut after La Quiete, at 20,00 o'clock" Franco explained. And so we're ready...go to climb Epomeo. You cannot image how was the excursionists equipment: from the plus-fours and bootees, alpenstock to the hunting clothing and large jackets, jeans, keeway, camisoles and hats... my wife and I had only a quilt inside our bag. We have tackled the situation head-on and go to the summit across paths and tuff walls, against meteor falls (so called the movement of water that from liquid becomes rains or snow) and the strong winds. The funny voice of excursionists decreased arriving to the summit until to become only snorts and wheezes or laments.

A Neapolitan man, at the end of the line, said: "but who laid me up?" ... When we arrived to the hemitage and all was dark around and only the moonlight above us, we have rested and wiped away sweat, that seems fresh water. To apologize, Franco offered a glass of wine to everyone (he understood that we needed to feel uplifted because of the steep way). We seated down in circle exchanging sandwiches, pizza with maccheroni, ham and cakes and finally, huge mistake, a good melon of 10 kg. Only afterward we understood this fault! Taken proteins, vitamins, sugar, the group began to tell funny stories, jokes maybe risqué not heard by women. More they were risqué, more we laughed, and as background many lights around with plays of shadow.

At midnight I heard a buzzing, similar to an exchange of information in a low voice, and I noted a strange way to look around. I understood the problem caused by too binges and melon with a rich diuretic effect. I lost a torch and made an inspection, so, returning my excursionists friends and jumping up a stone, I said: "dear friends there are inalienable and no delegating actions that make us the same, so men can seat down to the women right, don't mill round, spaces are wide and dry, be on line", someone told me, to pay a compliment: "Peppino is a man of honor". Only at the end I saw that Neapolitan man that found fault with the climb, running toward left, "ah-I reproached him-go to the right", "I'm sorry but I have a exuberant prostate that recommends me to stay nestled"...I thought about that Latin maxim 'Nemo ad impossibilia tenetur' (nobody has to make impossible things, like pee standing up).

'He is able to do it', I said...reduced by the natural burden, the weariness arrived during the night, when Morfeo was squatted among stones and prongs, ready to receive us. The sharp smell of two Tuscan men, advised me to go out and so I did. I went up the summit of our friend Epopo (so called Monte Epomeo by old Pliny in his work 'Storia Natutale') and, seated down on the last stone, I enjoyed a breathtaking view. In a total silence and among natural smells, lights from Capri and Ventotene appeared in the distance, then the cost of Gaeta and Mondragone up to Campi Flegrei, the lighthouse of Miseno and a series of lights from the Neapolitan coast that vanished toward the two towers. ..that one of Greco and Annunziata. Ischia was at my foot under so many lights and the presence of the lighthouse Imperatore and the Castle while red and green spots animated the scene.

'What a marvel!', two women behind me said, and understanding my storyteller art, asked me questions about this and that aspect.

I exposed all my knowledge, from the volcanic 'horst' of Rittman to the modern facts with a series of historical, geological, cultural poetical geographical and popular tales leaving without words the two women saying at the end "Pity that the others didn't hear this prodigy of learning.

The first sunshine entered and the dust seemed to disappear on the horizon. "It's ok – I shouted – come up!"

The group come soon and, as if by magic, appeared many cameras. No time to comment, everyone admired the natural show. Around us, only silence, the solemn union of Human Being and God.

The first light of dawn took place. No more a shaded grey but a pale rose that became fiery red: it's a nre day. And then the so awaited prince arrives, initially lazy but always cheeky to show its brightness. Its tepid rays, that dry the humidity of the night, I remembered the famous carta of a Neapolitan nobleman and its stamping in gold: "'O sole è bello, 'o sole'... (The sun is fine, the sun...). The poetry moment was interrupted by a sigh, 'I'd give anything for a hot coffee'...Franco, with his tenor voice agreed everbody: 'ncoppa a Santu Nicole è 'na bellezza oinè'(St. Nicola is a beautiful place) and everybody answered: ''e quanno spont 'o sole so ccose 'a stravedè'... (and when the sun rises is an unsimissable sight'...)