Ever feel like modern life is creeping in from all sides? You need Alicudi: the wildest and most remote of the Aeolian Islands. Perched like a cone in the Tyrrhenian Sea, it’s an island that moves at its own pace, where mules, goats, sheep and a suspiciously high number of cats all coexist on cobbled paths. Donkeys are the island’s unsung heroes, hauling bags up steep, winding paths, while the landscape remains rugged and untouched. No banks, no roads and no rush.
The ferry from Palermo arrives once a day, if the weather’s in the mood. Passengers step off the ferry unsure if they’ve stepped into paradise or isolation. After stocking up on supplies from the small store on the island, some dart straight to the homes at the base of the island, but the brave among us (or those that didn’t do their research) begin the climb – 8 million (unconfirmed) steps winding through wild fennel and sunbaked rock. Thankfully, the mules are there to shoulder the load. Bring water.
At the top, the island reveals itself in layers: whitewashed villas, rustic homes and terraces that make you feel like you’re standing on the edge of the world. Most visitors opt to rent one of the simple yet charming villas scattered across the island. These homes, often run by locals, showcase the island’s hospitality – unpretentious and deeply rooted in tradition.
Dining on Alicudi isn’t about trendy restaurants or bustling cafes. The locals take pride in home-cooked meals serving generous portions of seafood caught a matter of hours prior, capers and vegetables. Many of the island’s most memorable meals are enjoyed on private terraces, where guests are treated to authentic dishes with the sea sprawled out before them. The best part? To discover these hidden dining spots, you just need to ask around.
Life on on Alicudi is basic but beautiful. It reminds you of how little you actually need. The house I stayed in was modest, raw and authentic. I slept with the windows open and one night slept outside on a terrace with views that stretched endlessly across the sea. The nights were quiet, the stars brighter than I’ve ever seen and the only light came from the moon reflecting off the water. Each morning, the island would slowly wake as fishermen set out early and locals tended to their animals.
Alicudi isn’t for everyone. The climb to get anywhere is steep and the pace of life is intentionally slow. If you want instant anything, maybe try somewhere else. But if what you really need is a place to breathe—like, really breathe—and hear yourself think, this is it. From the peak, you can look out across the sea to Filicudi, its silhouette visible in the distance. And when the day fades, the sky shifts from pink to deep purple and the breeze brushes through the hills.
*All photography by Katherine Moffat
