by Patricia Stammers
PureTravel Writing Competition 2024
I was driving alone in my car towards the Dolomites when a sparkling blue, and spreading view changed. Mediterranean Sea disappeared. The road snaked adjacent to a river across a broad, green plain between mountains of limestone rock. No road sign, pavement, lighting, building, or electricity cable recalled the progress of humanity. There was nothing except wild, rugged, beauty of a gorge with the plain disappearing between bare, white walls on the far horizon.
Along a summit a row of carved battlements like giant’s teeth shone against the blue sky. What?! I braked and left the car so as to confirm the existence of that extraordinary vision! Yes and there was an arrow-slit too. Somebody, sometime had lived within that sky-high wall of rock?
There was no other evidence of human habitation in the valley until a steep road. Regardless of vehicle maintenance, or fuel-guage needle, driving, slowly, pressed into the back of my car seat, I did not expect to see a house at the top of the near vertical, winding, unmade pass.
Small, carved out of mountainside the house was unlike any I had ever known but not wanting to disturb cave-dwellers I drove on and was lost. The lane continued rougher and narrowing, snaked upward towards the clear sky. Where was I going? With no map or roadsign to guide me I knew not.
This was not the trendy France Sud of which I had read and heard. I was looking for a change when selling our home after my parents died but never dreamed of finding square miles like these, unchanged since the ice-age. After relocating in a French seaside village exploration of the Pyrenees where wild horses roam had been interesting. Now I was driving upward at a perilous angle to a rough road. No barrier stood between the car and the mountainside plunging thousands of feet below, between tree and boulder.
Before the way narrowed to the width of a footpath I braked and switched off the engine. Ahead was a bow of a bend; on one side the limestone wall and the other a precipice. I recognised the end of the expedition … but where and how to turn around would take brains and nerve. Fortunately the air was still and silent. There was nothing to distract me.
Of course there was nowhere to back up and turn without risk. No option though meant action … of a kind. Safety concern replaced disappointment with the outcome of my adventure into the unknown, and I edged forward holding breath. There might be enough space to turn and retreat. Otherwise the way ahead could be taken on foot. I did not like the idea of leaving my car though there was no sign of animal or human company. A galloping herd of something wild might appear at any moment. Whilst reversing, visualising an unrefined, everlasting tumble into the valley, I guided wheels away from the precipice and retreated, oh so carefully!
Photo by Tobias Rademacher on Unsplash
