Silence, that's first one and the most important. Then listening to the soft voice of the mountain, to your breathing while walking, to the beating of your heart. Beauty, no need of words. And no will to come back. Instead I must.
I spent four days in the Piccole Dolomiti - read more here - enjoying a weather simply wonderful. Our group was a good one and our guide was great.
I left Florence by train just after work on Saturday afternoon, cought a bus in Vicenza and arrived to Recoaro Terme just in tim for a tasty dinner. At night we went walking in the forest, uphill in the freezing cold to emerge under a shining starry sky, the silent valley down, an handful of lights, surrounded by the dark gray mountains.
On Sunday we went walking on the Big Trees Path, all in the shadow and snowy. But we stopped eating our lunch in a puddle of sun, talking about the fascinating memories of the Cimbri: they came here from the North, they were different and feared... Where are they now? so mixed and confused to the others that they disapeared as a nation, and still they live in names and words used in these villages. The Big Trees, centuries old, have seen everything.
On Monday we went walking to Capogrosso, climbing 400 m more or less, in a splendid forest. This is called the Milestones' Path because hidden amongh the trees there is an ancient quarry, suddenly abandoned with unfinished milestones. It's hard to understand how people could trasport those heavy manufacts down to the valley by such a steep path, still they used to.
Atop we found the snow and in the snow the rest of some I World War trenches. Miserable soldiers spent here long desperate days and nights, fighting against people they used to be friends to, because here the border had changed often and they were poor paesans speaking Italian by both the sides. Fighting for interests they didn't share at all and the most ignored. But it seems we never learn from our bloody past.
On Tuesday we dared the hights. We climbed 600 m toward the 'Omo e Dona' (Man and Woman) rocky towers by a very - VERY - steep rocky path, stopped on the top and then afforded the risky descent, basicly a huge rocky landslide. The last part of the path was more regular but tricky because covered on ice.
I had just the time to catch my bus to Vicenza. It has been a beautiful break but back to normal I feel down again. I think I finally got it: I'm persuaded that what I do basicly has no value. I mean: I do it very well but it's anyway superfluous. Easy translation: I feel I am superfluous. I've got to work on it.
See more pictures HERE.
See more pictures HERE.