It’s no easy feat to reach the Aeolian Islands, a tranquil, unspoiled archipelago north of Sicily beloved by travelers since Homeric times, but once you’ve settled into the gentle rhythms of the place, leaving is no easy feat, either. “Should I bring another bottle of wine?”  asked Enzo Anastasi.

The two of us had been sitting in silence on the spacious terrace of Hotel La Canna, Anastasi’s 14-room refuge on the island of Filicudi. The water of the Tyrrhenian Sea, a few hundred feet below us, looked like gray-green glass. Filicudi is the second-farthest west of the Aeolian Islands, a volcanic archipelago that stretches for 50 miles north of Sicily. Several of the other Aeolians were visible on the horizon, and as Anastasi uncorked our second bottle, I watched pink popcorn-shaped clouds puff up among them, like a luminous island chain of their own.