Almost two weeks, I bet you were starting to miss it.
As we left waiting for the techy savior to come you should be comforted knowing the day has finally arrived and the new station has landed.
Since I mainly work with dropbox it has become mandatory to sync everything on this station, which is taking a week by now due to the almost Tb of data being downloaded; speed is not helpful as it is reaching peaks of only 500-700 Kb/s, so I couldn’t just stand there waiting for the pictures to be downloaded.
On sunday I woke up seeing a magnificent day, I called my buddy, and 30 mins later we were hitting the road, aiming to the nearby alps.
Approaching the tallest of the Grigne (Northern Grigna, aka Grignone) we reached Esino Lario and started rollin’. The route is one of my favourites: it starts from the Cainallo hut and reaches the Bietti-Buzzi, touring through the famous Porta di Prada and other mountain caves and abysses.
Soarin’ the cliffs, a glimpse of the Como lake’s fork can be seen, giving even more contrast to the split between the sudden rise of the mountains and the plain cityscapes of the Milan & Brianza area.
The day was supposed to be rainy, and low-grey clouds at dawn probably kept other mountaineers like us from opting to this trail, so we really had all of this playground just for us.
As the quiet beauty of these places was only interrupted by the sounds of slipping rocks and tweets, a flebile wind kept away the distant clouds and cooled us on the most exposed paths. We reached the gate of Prada while it was still in backlight, standing like a dark ring cuttin’ out a slice of the blue sky.
Mountains like these are not just huge sets of calcareous monoliths, the history of alpinism is written and sculpted on them with steel needles from which the first misfits of the city decided to ascend toward greater beauties. The prayers of these are buried together with the deepest glaciers and crosses sprouts in the most unwelcoming and suggestive places.
The carbonatic origin of these lands suited the porous orogeny of the many caves and gates adorning these cliffs.
Nature was still awakening as we stepped through the grey stones, and the swift cloack of the projected shadows felt aside as we approached the hut.
After a quick lunch, and only after losing our corneas staring at the last snow, we turned our boots and came home.
So, what’s next? And what is all this photography about?
Nothing else than the most simple, and genuine, beauty.