I truly, madly, deeply (Savage Garden anyone?) love mountains. I always have, I always will.
Out of all the places I have seen thus far, the Garda Lake is sure one of my favorites. It is the biggest lake in Italy, yet the town was quiet, calm, and empty. Although, it is the winter and, due to it, visiting this ghost town made for an experience full of tranquility and solitude. The summer draws crowds and businesses welcome the party. The winter keeps everyone inside and makes for rare photos of empty streets in a popular area. I guess everything has its pros and cons. However, I have been in the winter season for almost one year and I am pretty sure I am turning into a polar bear.
The Garda Lake was at the end of an almost two hour drive through the mountains. It was incredibly beautiful the entire time. Never once was I bored…except when the road snacks came to a bittersweet end. It never gets old to me to have to bend forward in the passenger seat and look up at the mountains high above. To kind of pretend as you are sitting normally that the entirety of the view through the windshield is just simply darkness, like a deep forest, and then to look up and see these summits full of wondrous texture.
The roads seemed to be mostly switchbacks the whole way, a great way to get vertigo. It would lead us through a mountainous filled view, yet could still see town after town in the distance nestled perfectly in the hills. We would turn one corner you could see the highest point of a church beautifully framed in front of a background full of its town and, of course, the glorious mountains that I could imagine gracing the view of every open window in the town.
We would turn another corner and be IN the town. So small and charming and naturally I wanted to stop in each one and photograph all the details that made everything so characteristic (in ways that perhaps may seem ridiculous and common to locals, but to this American girl, seemed like a whimsical story-book setting). But, this polar bear had to continue on before the sweet-sweet sun set early, as I am so accustomed to in my winter filled life, so we could finally reach the Garda Lake.
We pulled over the car at a point so I could photograph the town and the lake from above. We experienced a situation that left me very disturbed and confused including a man, a cat, and some blueberries. Why are the blueberries significant? They are not, but in this story, strangely they made it worse. Why is the cat significant? Because of the man. And because of the man, he made blueberries look bad. Don’t ask.
I am finding it hard for me to describe this small and specific area I photographed. This is one of those moments where the photos truly do speak for themselves. Mountains to me are something I have always felt deeply for. I love to be surrounded by them, I love to stare in awe at them, whether it be with my own eyes from the bottom or at the summit or through the eyes of another photographer. I love the vast array of feelings they bring me from intriguing emptiness to a kind of satisfaction nothing else brings me. They make me feel empowered and beautiful. They inspire me and forever remind me to be stronger.