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.
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