There is this road…a road that you follow until the end of all things human made. Top Gear host, Jeremy Clarkson, proclaimed it the ” best road in the world”…along with some other roads he outspokenly gave the same title to. But…this road…this road is not the best in the world because it gives you asphalt to drive your car on. It is the best in the world because it is an actual stairway to heaven. I am this girl who grew up alongside the mountains. And mountains are not something you dispense of lightly. Mountains you don’t forget. Mountains you don’t leave behind. It is not necessarily because one has them around, but mountains are something sacred. Mountains are something to worship. With the sea…everything is so easy. The sea one can embrace…the sea…one can play with…the sea is warm and inviting. One can at any time take a beautiful picture of the sea without any difficulty. On the other hand, mountains….mountains are just one whole other story. Mountains are a tale of heritage, a fib of resoluteness that you cannot easily capture through a lens. With mountains one feels undeserving of life on this earth. In front of the mountain…you bow…and if there is a road that takes you on top of it…you take it without any word. Because there is no other place that will climb you to the end of the world this easy. There is no other road worth following, than the one that takes you to the edge of humankind to give you ultimate freedom. And maybe it is just me euphemising about this place of absolute beauty, but this I know…I’ve come to know the end of the world and it is utterly beautiful.
So this road…it is called the Transfagarasan Highway. Look it up, because when everything ill in humankind spills out, you will certainly want to get here to shield yourself from the troubles of man. This road is a winding road with stains of wilderness and sharp descents. This road will rarely allow you to follow its trail due to the altitude. This road will speak to you of the valleys, of the mountain crests, of colder climates.
This road ends into a lake: a place where rocky landslides leave the mountain to dress up in grass and feed on water. And there will be no shelter here from nature’s unkindness. There will be no refuge from the tedious wind. As soon as you spot it, you will breathe a sigh of relief: this little chalet on the side of the lake. And you will most certainly run to it in despair. Because the mountain…the mountain is cold…the mountain is harsh and unmerciful. As you step into the warm environment of this wooden made human habitat, you will think of doing it, but you won’t…thank the heavens that the heart of the mountain, has somehow been tainted by one ambitious human goal.
I’ve written about the sea, more times than I can count. However, I have totally missed out on telling a yarn about the mountains. And now…now I am voraciously trying to find a reason so as to why…