It was a late summer day, the sky was clear and the temperature
I decide to go for a walk on mount Vettore, in the
Monti Sibillini National Park.
I walked for about three hours and reached the summit.
rising from the valley and, in a moment, the Pilato Lake, 900 meters lower,
In a few
minutes the clouds surrounded me.
remember a slight sensation of disorientation, even though I was near to the
cross of the summit, a place I perfectly know.
I allowed the
fog to wet my hair and my clothes.
Fog in its
density seemed to have grasped all the scents of nature.
describe the smell, but it was a combined fragrance of wet and fresh mountain
grass, warm rock heated by the sun just a few minutes ago, leaves and wood of
the forest from the valley.
The fog was shading the sounds; it was like being in a glass case in which
besides the sound of my breath, there were endless whispers of the air through
the cracks of the rocks, small sounds born from the movements of the grass and
rising from the ground, pleasing sounds of various insects, far and dark noises
of flying raptors were filling the air.
I stayed there
for a while, surrounded by white, hidden from any reference point, breathing
and listening trying to distinguish and perceive all the things I was feeling.
I did not want
to leave, but night would have fallen, so I sadly left, and while I was coming
down the fog was decreasing.
At the first turn
on the Pian Grande and Pian Piccolo the sun crept through the clouds creating a
magnificent dance of lights, shadows and colours on the valleys below.
I like to think
to this picture as a farewell or maybe as a gift of nature, which did not want
me to leave without giving me something, simply for spending some time with
sight was the end I was waiting for on the summit.
© Emanuele Zallocco Photography