sit in front of a screen each time without finding anything to tell begins to appear as a problem. I have the feeling that he no longer wants to compare myself with myself ...
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Globetrotter Pinball Machine
guides usually bear the time when you should go to a certain place, generally based on the safety hikers. Often frequenting the mountain and visiting many places, at different times of year or with different weather conditions, I realized that every place has a magic moment. The area around Dal Piaz, for example, give their best in July when the flowers that explode, or in winter when the blue and white white snow combine with each other. But the soul is the wind here. What blows during the clear days of late autumn, when the snows to come in and linger, the meadows are brown. Gusts svelte, the cold north wind that leave you breathless, leaving a time suspended, immobile until the next sudden. Or those in winter storms create artistic sculptures, or raise mischievous "spirits" that enhance di brillanti l'aria.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
How Much Is Haircut On Bench Fix Salon
VAL-VAL DI SAN MARTINO Canzoi RETURN 2nd PART OF SAN MARTINO
Presa la strada per Fraina mi concedo dopo tanto cammino, una pastina ed un succo di frutta. In cielo intanto il blu del sereno ha il sopravvento sulle nuvole che si sbizzarriscono in giochi di movimento sui contrafforti rocciosi. Ne escono così fantasmi sotto forma di guglie, pinnacoli, strani "mostri" di pietra che appaino e scompaiono seguendo le bizze del vento in quota. M'infilo così lungo la stretta e lunga valle detta appunto Vallunga. Dapprima su strada sterrata in fitto bosco, che sale parallela ad un piccolo rivo, da cui proviene un garrulo suono d'acqua. Alla fine del tratturo c'è un ponticello in legno che over the course. I take off the thirst take advantage of the cool liquid flowing between the rocks. A deep breath and start the unlikely ascent along the unfrequented path. All around hangs a feeling of silence, time stopped , of wilderness. The man seems to have been rejected in these places. Yet what makes you feel peaceful, one with the place, on par with it, where man and nature complement each other. The vegetation is dense . the view one another steep grassy slopes, rocky channels that intersect to rough, the ridges on the high remote irraggingibili. The path does not break. It seems that the hand of man has never worked here, and instead when you do not expect to find out what aie charcoal, some remnants of stones placed to make the best forward on the path and also have two huts. Build seems more mystical hermits for a subsistence economy. Yet in this wilderness surrounded by the atmosphere is poignant. The accumulated fatigue is felt , pace becomes slow. The fork looks up close, but as time passes a dam seems insurmountable. A hawk's cry pierces the silence, becomes repetitive, it seems to cry out to all of the presence of an intruder. Top echoes a chamois whistling. The area of \u200b\u200bshadow and the light breeze that diverged into the valley freezes me sweat. I have a bit 'of cramps, but now I'm about to climb over step, where some hikers sit to enjoy the view. I go down a bit 'before taking a break "technique" to catch his breath. The slopes show red brown tones that invite you to stop, reminiscent of days gone by. Gaze runs down the valley Feltre and games of sun and shade of the rocky ridges. I take a little 'race to the nearby church of San Mauro and from there along the path that leads to Lasen obsolete. The country seems to rest lying upstream, few people chatter in the middle, revives one of the houses along the road leading into the valley through meadows and woods. Return to the starting point, the party is gone, they're sbaraccare, St. Martin's got a bit 'in the summer. 
Presa la strada per Fraina mi concedo dopo tanto cammino, una pastina ed un succo di frutta. In cielo intanto il blu del sereno ha il sopravvento sulle nuvole che si sbizzarriscono in giochi di movimento sui contrafforti rocciosi. Ne escono così fantasmi sotto forma di guglie, pinnacoli, strani "mostri" di pietra che appaino e scompaiono seguendo le bizze del vento in quota. M'infilo così lungo la stretta e lunga valle detta appunto Vallunga. Dapprima su strada sterrata in fitto bosco, che sale parallela ad un piccolo rivo, da cui proviene un garrulo suono d'acqua. Alla fine del tratturo c'è un ponticello in legno che over the course. I take off the thirst take advantage of the cool liquid flowing between the rocks. A deep breath and start the unlikely ascent along the unfrequented path. All around hangs a feeling of silence, time stopped , of wilderness. The man seems to have been rejected in these places. Yet what makes you feel peaceful, one with the place, on par with it, where man and nature complement each other. The vegetation is dense . the view one another steep grassy slopes, rocky channels that intersect to rough, the ridges on the high remote irraggingibili. The path does not break. It seems that the hand of man has never worked here, and instead when you do not expect to find out what aie charcoal, some remnants of stones placed to make the best forward on the path and also have two huts. Build seems more mystical hermits for a subsistence economy. Yet in this wilderness surrounded by the atmosphere is poignant. The accumulated fatigue is felt , pace becomes slow. The fork looks up close, but as time passes a dam seems insurmountable. A hawk's cry pierces the silence, becomes repetitive, it seems to cry out to all of the presence of an intruder. Top echoes a chamois whistling. The area of \u200b\u200bshadow and the light breeze that diverged into the valley freezes me sweat. I have a bit 'of cramps, but now I'm about to climb over step, where some hikers sit to enjoy the view. I go down a bit 'before taking a break "technique" to catch his breath. The slopes show red brown tones that invite you to stop, reminiscent of days gone by. Gaze runs down the valley Feltre and games of sun and shade of the rocky ridges. I take a little 'race to the nearby church of San Mauro and from there along the path that leads to Lasen obsolete. The country seems to rest lying upstream, few people chatter in the middle, revives one of the houses along the road leading into the valley through meadows and woods. Return to the starting point, the party is gone, they're sbaraccare, St. Martin's got a bit 'in the summer.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Average Clothes Size For Women - America
VAL-VAL Canzoi RETURN PART 1 ^
On this Sunday of November, albeit pale, but other than above that have brought heavy rain to drown half the Veneto, I take perhaps the last chance to "make" a long trek sopraggingere before the snowfall. That sounds a bit 'to overdo . The hike will face in the style combining the trail walking, running and Nordic walking. Arrival at the rural church in Val di Vignui that the day is done. In the meadow vicinal structure is laid for the feast of the patron. Organizers challenge the mood of the time obviously relying on the frequent visits of the saint. M'inoltro along the dirt road in the grayness around him, where the only ones who can dictate a different shade are larches with their late autumn yellow colors ... red. A little 'running a bit' walking the arrival Baslaval a lime-kiln, where raising the look, I see that the bi nu properties have drawn a line and leave no look ahead. I continue on the path, pushing the sticks in the beech forest that has made her barren, abandoned the thick foliage. Only a few branches flaunts sparse leaves, while the "floor" a seductive red carpet covers the slopes. First with bold step, then go up the more realistic affectation steep path up to the dairy Ramezza of High where patches of snow give a touch of brown to white pastures. A short break to roll with the look of the walls of San Mauro emerging from the clouds and starts to climb toward widespread saddle fork meager passage that communicates between the valleys of Canzoi with that of St. Martin, formerly nomata Val Garza. Get there quick stamping caste blanket uppers with designs of the foot. Show me the deer whistles on. Thence to the east the high banks of the Three Stones Cimia and I refer to areas from western epic, to distant places to Rockey Mountains. Before the sun goes across the valley to illuminate a piece of mountain that was in greeting delay, with overhanging rocks, the Acapulco cliffs. Childbirth and go down in the snow, now frozen, of course. First zigzagging not far from superb outdoor walls of the Col Saladen Gai and then into the woods. With a small digression to 'route I'm going to take a look at alpine Scàrnia still in good condition. So I let myself be carried away by running through the beech magic Zocca Alto, then down, left Cold'Istiaga in Val di Canzoi. Meanwhile the sun has been done in the clouds illuminado wide open spaces. Despite myself I find myself always treat to walk in the shade, so I end up yelling a lot of bad luck. Since the unit of Enel from which some 'running, but walking more lightly on the road, gazing Petrarchan waters now so clear and fresh, coming near the' farm dell'Orsera Where does the road to Fraina. 
On this Sunday of November, albeit pale, but other than above that have brought heavy rain to drown half the Veneto, I take perhaps the last chance to "make" a long trek sopraggingere before the snowfall. That sounds a bit 'to overdo . The hike will face in the style combining the trail walking, running and Nordic walking. Arrival at the rural church in Val di Vignui that the day is done. In the meadow vicinal structure is laid for the feast of the patron. Organizers challenge the mood of the time obviously relying on the frequent visits of the saint. M'inoltro along the dirt road in the grayness around him, where the only ones who can dictate a different shade are larches with their late autumn yellow colors ... red. A little 'running a bit' walking the arrival Baslaval a lime-kiln, where raising the look, I see that the bi nu properties have drawn a line and leave no look ahead. I continue on the path, pushing the sticks in the beech forest that has made her barren, abandoned the thick foliage. Only a few branches flaunts sparse leaves, while the "floor" a seductive red carpet covers the slopes. First with bold step, then go up the more realistic affectation steep path up to the dairy Ramezza of High where patches of snow give a touch of brown to white pastures. A short break to roll with the look of the walls of San Mauro emerging from the clouds and starts to climb toward widespread saddle fork meager passage that communicates between the valleys of Canzoi with that of St. Martin, formerly nomata Val Garza. Get there quick stamping caste blanket uppers with designs of the foot. Show me the deer whistles on. Thence to the east the high banks of the Three Stones Cimia and I refer to areas from western epic, to distant places to Rockey Mountains. Before the sun goes across the valley to illuminate a piece of mountain that was in greeting delay, with overhanging rocks, the Acapulco cliffs. Childbirth and go down in the snow, now frozen, of course. First zigzagging not far from superb outdoor walls of the Col Saladen Gai and then into the woods. With a small digression to 'route I'm going to take a look at alpine Scàrnia still in good condition. So I let myself be carried away by running through the beech magic Zocca Alto, then down, left Cold'Istiaga in Val di Canzoi. Meanwhile the sun has been done in the clouds illuminado wide open spaces. Despite myself I find myself always treat to walk in the shade, so I end up yelling a lot of bad luck. Since the unit of Enel from which some 'running, but walking more lightly on the road, gazing Petrarchan waters now so clear and fresh, coming near the' farm dell'Orsera Where does the road to Fraina.
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