Never trust the navigators, you might turn nostalgic.
Last afternoon, on our way back home, after a day spent in Althofen among young fencers from all the nations that color the maps of this corner of Europe, in the attempt to avoid the long queues on the Austrian highway due to the endless maintenance works, we opted to follow the instructions of both the car and the mobile navigation software. Having left at our shoulders the small industrial town north of Klagenfurt, in just a handful of minutes we have found ourselves on a steep, serpentine-like road in the middle of the Carinthians mountains. I knew the route was definitely shorter than looping around the massif using the highway. What I couldn't estimate before was the time to drive along such a road, surrounded by walls of snow at nearly half the speed the navigators thought I would go. To make things a bit more complicate there were the breathtaking wilderness and the views behind each bend of the road. Eventually, we had to stop.
As we got on the highest point of the track, not far from a local ski station, we parked our car on a melting icy slab and got off to take some snapshots. In font of us there was a marvelous panorama of the west lands, were the sun was about to sink and there I spotted the line of the Alps. Which made me think of Italy and the winter sunsets of the sea line of the horizon.