The best is to jump into the text abruptly, by the first impact when we arrive at the starting point of this walking experience. And what happens, on a magnificent summer's day like this one, is a rush of pure wonder: the mountains cut out of the clear sky, the veils  of shadows growing in the distance, the fresh and fragrant breeze, the imperial silence... 

Then comes the urge to start walking, the primitive impulse to put one foot after the other and move forwards, forwards... And so we go, first electrically and impulsively, only to slow down in an instant and continue at a slow pace.
In a place like this, slowing down is the smartest way to walk. And it's a good idea to stop here and there to let your gaze wander around with the thoroughness of a scalpel.

But let's take a step back, because the framework is missing: we're at the top of Alto Minho, in  Castro Laboreiro.
We return to the trail, where footsteps echo discreetly and conversations are minimal, to enable the necessary synchronisation of the senses. And little by little we integrate into the landscape, dilute into it, completely overwhelmed by the mysterious beauty of the granite, a pure and perfect glimpse of eternity. This is what counts here, everything else is redundant.

At the end, back at the starting point, we redrew the distance of the route on the horizon and we feel that we had passed through a time suspension chamber, because we hadn't noticed the passing of the hours.
Meanwhile, sitting in the warm afternoon sun,  we revisited the images engraved in the recesses of our memory. And we stayed there sighing by the strange beauty of small things.