Small and large, Vegas open as the Vega de Enol, or hidden as the Vega de Aliseda between Verdilluenga and the Conjurtao, whose output these two guardians gordinflones and sleepy Watch: the Gustuteru and the Rasa. The vega de Ario perhaps summarizes all the meaning of these green laps of the peaks. Surrounded by smaller summits, tailored for your beauty to frame it, wrap it, wrap it lovingly without minimizing it, it constitutes a unit in itself same. But to be perfect Ario needed a lookout over the Massif central and nature, aware of this, opened a balcony over the nest of summits to contemplate the more fantastic spectacle that was never given to contemplate a human being: the West Tower closed wall and its immediate cresting. There are also fonts, rare treasures hidden in the bottom of the cuenyes, the lowercase entranada jacket in sea of limestone.
The source in the cordillera sings; before you see it, sense it, hear her voice whispering in the undergrowth. In the peaks there are many fonts quiet times; the wind and the Earth turned off his words. You have to look for them, pluck it out from their hiding places where distilled its purity. Anyone who has not been mountain knows really what is the thirst, a desire to purify travelogue, a desire to soak the heart. Eating is a physical act; drink metaphysical.
Hunger grips; thirst burns. Eat meet, drink purifies. Water is the origin of life. All the sources of the peaks have its magic and mystery. They are the channels, gigantic folds in the limestone robes of the massifs, where up and down hidden and endless trails. The channel has its own personality that subjugates us and us snarl. Once turned on his claw we have to submit ourselves to your domain and patiently accepting it uphill or downhill, denied of perspectives, attentive to the footprints, forgotten ourselves, the muscles under tension, the relaxed soul.