Crunching my way through a forest of pine and eucalyptus trees towards grassy dunes and a vast, sandy beach, I look out towards a horizonless sea. There is no other sign of life, apart from the eagles and peregrines soaring above me.

It is the sort of wild, untouched beauty you’d expect to find in South Africa or Australia. But here we are in Sicily, the southern Italian island better known for its crazy, crowded cities, clanking costume jewellery and cocktails the colour of the lava that sputters sporadically from Mount Etna. But the summer crowds have disappeared and the island’s tranquillity has returned, even though I’m on the coast, only an hour south of the capital Palermo.