The inactivity of this blog coincided with my fifth Norwegian season. The sun shone
almost everyday, time went by and words didn’t come out. September arrived and I found myself having a short holiday on the peaks of my homeland’s roof, the Dolomites, before leaving for Mexico.
I wanted to visit again some childhood places and make sure that those mountains were still there. One great thing about natural sceneries is that they hardly change in time, contrary to urban landscapes that keep evolving until they become unrecognizable.
So when I left for “Le pale di San Martino” I was pretty sure to find them there (Le Pale are peaks with a shape similar to cones).
I laced my boots tightly up, filled my canteen at the fountain, adjusted my rucksack and lead off with the primordial rhythm of the feet one after the other. A middle September sun shone, recharging creatures for the long cold winter to come. Nature offered its last green nuances before turning to autumnal tones.
The friendly environment of the first part of the track soon vanished; when we passed the timber-line we found the more severe conditions of high mountains, where rocks, stones and peaks reign. The mood changed with the landscape, during the first part light talks and smiles filled the silence whereas afterward our eyes were fixed on the trail and we listened to the wise mountain talking in stillness.
That is when my brain and my body went on holiday, on one of the shingles composing the world’s roof. A scatter of minute houses were to be seen down at the end of the valley. Closer to our sight the cliff pushed me against the wall, afraid of the void’s call.
We made breaks to observe how the shadows changed the colors and shapes of the peaks. Our body was already a bit tired, we didn’t know how long it took until the lodge where we were going to spend the night. Our stomachs cried for some food, yet it was this general exertion that made us appreciate even more every step, every sun beam, every sip of water.
The sight of the a white and blue building in the middle of a rock plateau, the lodge (Rifugio La Rosetta), was like seeing an oasis in the desert. Entering that door was our award: the warmth embracing us, the smell of hot soup, taking off the boots and moving the toes. We shared an evening, a meal and a fire with another couple and the owners, two alpine guides.
When I went out I stared at the expanse of bare rocks in front of me. I could see its limits,however, I couldn’t tell how far away they really were.
Today I look at the limits of Mexico City, I can see the last lighted house and to me the two areas are the same size. One hosts stones, the other twenty-two million inhabitants. I’m on another shingle of the roof.
I imagine that it’s the same place and that a thousand years have passed. The desolated area became one of the biggest city in the world.