Tuesday, 4 October 2016

Scenic route

First thing you notice is how close you are from the precipice. Every turn , every bend in the road is fraught with danger . There are concrete railings , usual rad markers and special cautionary messages .
The air becomes rapidly rarefied. Cool , clean and crisp.

The vales are full of greenery . Fir , pine , birch , silver oak , who's who of mountainous  flora. Brits revelled here. Poor chaps . It reminded them of home .  Moss clings to rocky hillsides , in large velvety swathes . Unseen birds chirp. Swooping in and out of the dense foliage  . Larks , swifts , martins .

Some where a mountain stream gurgles onto the road . Clear glacier water, running over cobblestones , falling  down in a gay abandon of watery spray, trickling between gigantic moss covered  trunks .

Years later , I would recount this scenic route to a person from that place , a local , under very different circumstances. I would be the patient , he , the attendant .

He would nod smilingly , then add- "do you know , at this place , you can have the first pick of strawberries for free , at so-and -so time of the year ?"

And I , wide eyed , would say -"No, I didn't know that ."

 Trying in vain to recall , which season we paid a visit .  

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