*** I COLORI DEL POLLINELLO *** Un cielo azzurro dentro cui spicca ogni tanto il bianco di qualche
nuvola e i raggi del sole che riscaldano questa bella giornata
di Tutti I Santi, mi accompagnano mentre mi inoltro nella
pineta assieme a Massimo, Giuseppe, Valeriano, Salvatore e Imma
per guadagnare la cresta che ci porterà prima
the slopes and then on top of Pollinelle.
.
The air is warm, a slight breeze every now and then I
ruffles his hair and moves the needles of the pines, making someone fall.
I smell of the earth who knows how to moss and fungi.
front of me, high, majestic rise of the walls Pollinelle.
My gaze sweeps from one side to another and I am delighted to see
the myriad colors of the forest.
a breathtaking spectacle.
Above the pines, which are distinguished for their
the different shades of green.
Lower down the beech forests and idyllic form a colorful mosaic.
The leaves fall to the next, taking the most diverse
colors ranging from yellow to green, from orange to red,
from brown to purple.
I look at the bush almost speechless.
It 's like if I saw a large painting in which the painter has enjoyed
use a multitude of colors.
's all so perfect ... everything is so beautiful.
would stay here to enjoy this wonder of sitting for days.
reached the crest and start to climb here, unfortunately, we see
the brutal hand of the animal most insensitive and bad
that walks on this earth: man.
The trail continues on a wilderness that has the
countless wounds that the mountain has suffered at the hands of some wicked and stupid
.
The black fire that has devoured large tracts of this fabulous
edge of the park, you can still read the raw land, as well as
burnt trees, fallen to the ground, seem to waste a few
calamità.
Tra i rovi, fuoriescono dal terreno gli spuntoni anneriti dal
fuoco, i quali come tante dita protese al cielo, urlano
l'obbrobrio che hanno subito.
Finalmente arriviamo dove la foresta è viva. I suoi colori
ci avvolgono e i suoi profumi inebriano i miei sensi.
La terra ci offre anche qualche fungo.
Continuamo a salire e arriviamo ai piedi delle pareti.
Alte orgogliose e inaccessibili ci guardano quasi con sospetto.
Io mi soffermo a osservarle con l'occhio ormai da scalatore.
Cerco di inviduare possibili vie per poterle risalire,
try to figure out how to tackle them.
While my eyes wander to the left
spans 360 degrees and I had enough of all the magnificent visions that offer
my eyes.
continue walking, keeping your eye
walls and suddenly I feel ... I feel stronger and stronger ... the call of rock.
I go up and touch it ... it sounds live ... it seems to invite me to climb
.
I feel strange, I want to rock, I want to climb.
I keep looking up but what I see are just lonely pine
loricati sticking so
almost absurd from the wall.
How perfect nature. As you know
give strength to the creatures who need and sweetness to the other.
Pines loricati have always fascinated me because of their strength and their resistance
.
They are born in conditions and in extremely cold
and despite the cold and the fury of the winds, stand up, bend
taking the most unusual looking, but do not give up.
I admire their strength ... I admire its purity.
After passing a couple of big scree, I approach a new
the wall, because I seem to have noticed a small gap
.
put his hands on the rock and I can not resist.
starts to rise slowly and now I feel stronger, more alive.
We continue to go up and over another gravel
we get to the point where a few years ago a climber fell
German.
I look at the wall and I think that the mountain as well as the fate of each of us
is unpredictable.
And sometimes cruel ...
I make the sign of the cross and raising his eyes to heaven
recite a silent prayer.
Siamo quasi arrivati all'ultimo tratto di sentiero
molto ripido che si inerpica dentro
un irto e difficile canalone.
Superato un primo salto, mentre gli altri girano a
sinistra, intravedo un passaggio quasi in verticale che
sale diritto tra rocce e alberi.
Mi attira...mi chiama...non so resistergli.
Non so perchè a volte faccio di queste cose, non riesco
a spiegarmelo.
La ragione mi dice che non devo farle. Sono cosciente del
pericolo, però c'è un parte di me che mi spinge a rischiare.
E questa cosa non mi piace.
Infatti mentre mi arrampico fra le rocce con la via
che diventa sempre più ripida, una pietra cede e mi prendo
la mia buona dose di paura
because only the quick reflexes and more solid footing, prevent me from
to fly down.
With the cold sweats and shortness of breath I look beneath me
and I see that Joseph is following me, I look at his expression
and I understand that he was afraid for me.
finally climbing ends and both come
on solid ground.
fatigue and adrenaline
make us understand that it was not easy.
reached the summit we can take a break and refreshments
and take some pictures. Someone
relaxes in the woods with a bit of "Foliage"
someone picking up some mushrooms.
From up here the view is great.
front of us up, pollen and Dolcedorme, a little below the saddle
Pollino with the Patriarch that stands out among all the other trees
.
On the right the steep slopes of the ridge and Celsa White Lorica.
Below us the colors of the forest and all the fabulous landscapes
who offer themselves to our view.
As we go down our speeches are all focused on ways
winter to do on this side and
with the mind we already have an ice ax and crampons
in hand.
along the scenic and beautiful trail, almost
dug into the rock, which leads to Valle Piana, we pass the point where
killed four German airmen with
their aircraft crashed. Here
a wooden cross was placed in their memory.
Unfortunately some idiot on duty
drawn on a rock beside a swastika, which we promptly
to disappear.
With a fast pace we go to share and after passing through the forest
we gain the ridge that allows us to reach the starting point
before the shadows of the night still surprise us on
slope.
Under the eyes of Pollinelle, hugs the beautiful
tour concludes today, almost ending because
a nice ice cold beer waiting for us to better course
bar surrounded by chips peanuts etc.. etc..
