The best way to enter this walk is head first, through the initial impact. Through what is felt the very moment one arrives at the starting point. And what happens, on a magnificent summer day like this, is a sudden surge of wonder: mountains sharply outlined against a crystal-clear sky, veils of shadow gathering in the distance, a cool, scented breeze, and silence — vast, almost imperial.

Then comes the urge to begin walking. The primitive impulse to place one foot in front of the other and move forward, simply to move. At first, the pace is electric and instinctive, before naturally slowing down. In a place like this, walking slowly is the most intelligent way to walk. It is worth stopping now and then, allowing the gaze to wander with surgical precision, attentive to details, shifts of light and the textures of granite.

But let us step back for a moment to set the scene: we are on the heights of Alto Minho, in Castro Laboreiro, one of the most austere and, at the same time, most sublime mountain landscapes of north-western Iberia.

Back on the trail, footsteps become discreet, almost ceremonial. Conversations are reduced to the bare minimum, allowing for necessary synchronisation of the senses.Gradually, we blend into the landscape, dissolve into it, entirely subdued by the enigmatic beauty of granite — a pure and almost perfect glimpse of eternity. Here, that is enough. Everything else feels redundant.

At the end, once again at the starting point, we trace the route mentally across the horizon and realise we have passed through a temporary suspension chamber: the hours slipped by unnoticed. Sitting quietly in the warm afternoon sun, we revisit the images now etched into memory, and sigh — silently — at the strange and moving beauty of small things.