Tuesday, June 30, 2009

What Will If I Use Expired Vigamox

Pilgrimage Canal Cuna.


Why visit the Cuna of canal? It 's a small side valley between Canal and the Valley of St. Francis Tramontina, now abandoned. My mother told me that you must learn to live to see the death. On the social level as on the staff: you dive visit a dead valley, to learn not to kill our mountain valleys.
The last inhabitant left the Canal Cuna in 1952, but at the beginning of the twentieth century there lived 130 inhabitants scattered in different villages. There they lived well because at the time was the level of welfare given by the number of animals that could keep ... And the copses of the Channel were then lawns, you could raise many flocks and herds. He lived well so much so that women were serving in Tramonti Channel, so much so that someone had also founded La Cassa di Risparmio di Cuna Canal. But for more information on the channel you can go to the site http://www.cuna.it/ .
You can go from San Francisco or Tramonti di Mezzo. More impressive, but longer and more difficult the crossing from St. Francis, therefore suggest that by sunset, a walk of four hours non-binding (reduced to two with a first approach by car) ..
rose to Tramonti di Mezzo, you can not go wrong, in the center of the small village turn right into Via Cuna Canal and take a paved road that runs along the river Chiarchia. For those who want to you can leave your car in town and continue on foot (two and a half hours each way just shows the sign outside the country). Still leave the car where it meets the sign ban on driving under the stupid LR n.15, continue on foot for the curves that rise to Pitchfork zuviel. The road is paved for a good while yet until the Rural Selva Piana. Then There are landslides that sometimes make it difficult to pass in the car, but since that has already been abandoned due to the force of law, there are no problems ....
In half an hour to get to the step of Forchia zuviel, at the junction turn left along the path 810, but as he takes a breath before starting the descent on the old cart, also well reduced to a path, which winds in a small forest beech, you can make contact with the first ruins of the Canal. Perhaps the last houses to be abandoned because they are closer to the country. There you can see it in concrete actions of accommodation. Lacked water, who knows where you went to draw even for animals! ... Until you built the cistern for rainwater harvesting. The last works of those who thought that you had to leave the valley. But progress is unstoppable! ...

Then, a short and narrow winding path down the slope on a steep slope that makes her sigh at the thought of hard work that you will have to go back ... The trail is well preserved and one can see signs of the original trail, then arranged for military purposes. In some hairpin bends are found traces of squared stones in walls typical of the interventions of military genius.
military defense strategies at the time of World War I, the valley had its own importance that was tested in practice after the course Kobarid. Some companies of the Division of General Rocca, retreating from the front, locked in the Strait of St. Francis by the Austrian troops that had reached Splilimbergo, managed to pass through the channel of the encirclement Cuna. The general however, with the bulk of the division, the breakthrough would groped and brought his men to massacre remembered in memorial of the battle on the road from the oven door Pielungo Clauzetto.
When the last hairpin is visible at the bottom of the flow of the river has almost arrived, and in fact after a few minutes to reach the bridge, as the drawbridges of medieval castles, marks the entrance to the village of Pescalon, the capital of the valley . And 'here that there was a church, primary school, the mill ...
The most interesting thing to see is the Church that a group of volunteers inspired by Gino Lorenzini wanted to restore, to witness the effort of memory to resist time, to be able to keep in memory, what time would destroy.
Equally interesting are the ruins of houses, silent witnesses to the life of the past, to witness the work of men, who were rescued from the forest land where the cattle feed to make a living ... Now the forest is taking revenge, the ivy and the vines are creeping among the rocks, the trees grow in the rooms where for centuries lived, fought, suffered and enjoyed generations of people.
front of the church restored and the ruins of the houses we can not but reflect on the death of a valley. But words can never recreate an emotion. To feel the charm of the valley you must go ... ... a good walk.

Do Fireplace Heat Exchangers Work

The Mill Canal Cuna.


Gino Lorenzini was able to convince his wife Silva to make available the skills of novice painter, to play according to the traces of her memory, what should have been the mill's Canal Cuna.

he claims that: "Research and photographs can be deduced that the mill located in area Was to take such grave at the end of 1800. The water was channeled from the Rio Sachs, brought to the mill and discharged into the turrets Comugna. The last miller was a Luvigjàt Pascalon. "

Monday, June 22, 2009

How Much Does A Xanax Cost On The Street?

The crossing of Mount Baldo

June 20 to 21 2009

What I want to return to the Baldo, the long mountain overlooking the Venetian side of Lake Garda. After the long Tarella 2 years ago, when I went to see its beauty, it's time to propose. We
the usual 15, opps ... No. 14 in the last minute due to illness, with the usual three new faces, including a girl from the unpronounceable name (I tried a time and I had a cramp in language and to recover I had to do a diet of bananas): will call Margot, just to simplify, and comes from Poland. No, not from Poland for this trek, is "only" from Lecce, traveling by train through the night ... you read that right!
Unfortunately, the state railways, despite improved punctuality and service in the North, under the 44th parallel has to work very well: in fact the train from Lecce is delayed up to 3 hours. Exchange of phone calls and text messages to see how do we decide that Margot and eventually we will reach directly to the shelter.
But in addition to Poland, there are Palestinians, Cremonese, vogherini, ex-Puglia and many (too many?) more or less of Milan doc. For ex-Ferrara this "human material" is the best he can offer to put pressure on the glue that held together this diverse band.

We are on the Garda and the lake with us for these two days. Garda lemon and we mean, not to disprove, lemon fruit of electing the weekend to digest lemons, lemons to block the post-digestion, lemons grapefruit also become necessary. I too will be sour like a lemon, but more on that later.

The rotating cable car from Malcesine useless if nothing else helps us to gain altitude without squeezing a drop of sweat. Clear day, cool but with a variety of clouds covering the tops surrounding, taking out just miraculously Baldo, whose crest stands before us.
Ready ... away! You go up, but do not overdo it. Although the path of flowers, where they will cry "Endemic she will!" blooms are at historic low. The snow is gone from a few weeks (just in time to let us pass) and spring is just beginning. The environment, however, is that well-remembered: white rocks under the feet, the lake to the right with the endless waves of ridges (now much obscured), the Adige valley to the left with its shiny green pastures.
proceed while the clouds are condensing around us come from the lake, rise rapidly with acrobatic games and then, reaching the sun, they dissolve. We reach the first peak, that of the cockpit, and then off down ... Today will be all the way, a bit 'of salt and a bit' to get down.
On the path just us and two pairs of foreigners, equipped with hopes-in-god with beautiful maps: you know those tours, where you see the mountains on the horizon? We stop and ask people: "Sorry, where are we now?". The no-comment is merely consequential. We give them information on the trails and go on.

The clouds begin to gather in our own neighborhood. Behind the top of Valdritta, called the diagonal for its unique layers, stands a good dark. I do not like me at all surprised by the storm and I like it even less when you are traveling, as now, along the edge of a ridge. Keeping an eye on the performance of the altimeter (fearing a sudden and unexpected rise in its share), I begin to push the band, with urban methods ("Come on boys, we expected the strudel to the shelter") and even less urban ( "Thud, thud, thud" sound of my sticks ... on other people's heads, especially on that of the "cap" on duty, not in a nano cap, something which I still hold the title). Keeping a steady pace, we spend some nice little features and the remnant of the winter snow field, now reduced to a minimum. I am concerned about Margot: I call on the phone, but here the field is non-existent and I decide to bring the band to the shelter and back again to help her. But that hand? But what help? During a brief pause allowed to take a breather, that's a figure dressed in red mist comes out and joins us. Canon to his shoulder and a smile that leaves no doubt: "Hello Margot." So much of the delay of the train ... Presentations and fast again. The refuge is not far away and lacks only the last salitina, we will do in a thick fog.

the shelter and we will fill the big room for very little change from hikers to guests, the shower is not there, the water in sinks and is frozen, so you just have a sciacquettio fast and a change of clothes just as fast. The anticipation of the dinner is damped by a series of sound cards and readings.

I would not talk about it, but since I do not think get away, briefly mention to my poor performance to trump call, where my table mates and I have repeatedly tightened; my deck to play bordering on the ridiculous.
Dinner is saving and is accompanied by the typical conversation table where you eat while we talk about a kitchen.
We are very fearful to spend the night in perfect communication, which in fact seems to spend almost unscathed, as if the snoring is to be withdrawn in silence ... almost. The alarm

is scheduled for 7 with starting an hour later, but already at 6 feet. Too good an opportunity to climb the nearby summit of Telegraph. I left the retreat and flight, armed only with a camera. On the ridge the wind pulls the goose, but the dawn is clear, very clear, even if the clouds have not gone away. I cry for the wind, but here is the lake, the Brenta, Adamello white, the juggernaut of William, behind the Rose. I see the string of peaks and Legnone Grigne Orobie and behold, here also served at all points.
You go to breakfast and then again, who wants the top. On this occasion, I notice that my voice has gone to the dogs: they are almost too hoarse and too dull ... cold I broke out. Between jokes and jokes

morning, continue the walk and suffered some short fixed rope comes in handy in many delicate passages. We take the military road leading to the Telegraph and, after the coffee break + Chierigo cake, the rock gives way to endless Pratoni. The rugged ridge yesterday (sour like a lemon) now becomes a soft green cake, filled with grazing cows that scanned carefully. We are oriented towards the south and less evil than the sun beats, otherwise we roast chickens. The exhibition has meant that the snow is gone here first, and in fact here the flowers there: from bunches of lilies of St. John, profit arnica, the yellow gentian.

Today we get to

Caprino, where a coach awaits us to line 14. With these appointments pending, my anxiety is growing, since I would never pierce the time. But the hike today is marked by the descent of 2035m (final measurement, GPS in hand), which are not exactly a panacea for various knee and ligaments.
Moral of the story I keep a high pace, but not frantic, and paste the "cap" on my overleaf (Can you imagine a worse punishment?), Spurring him with my soft voice all'Amanda Lear. Let
green ridges, we go down to pools of water inhabited by marmots marmots on, we ran into a few narrow beaten path, with slopes greater heights. Slip at some points is quite probative of our ability, but in the end are the distractions that weigh more. Crossing a dense undergrowth of sweet strawberries and ripe, I can not ignore them and pointing them at a fast part of the collection I end up with hands and feet on the ground. The second slide that I will compete even more spectacular, as I will roll from the side for a few yards. No problem, others leave footprints on the back of the mud.

Caprino is a dream that comes true with the view of the church. In the square deal with a bar and we use the half-hour of leisure to refresh. The girl in the bar, perhaps including our state of despair, we can rejoice with platters of salami and sticks, brush it in a flash.
's almost 14 and we move the bus stop. At 14:10
not see anything except a lady waiting for the bus too. "Strange, never had this delay" is his comment. Call the service center and find that the driver has gone nowhere, skipping our stop (or perhaps, we think, has never missed the party, according to revel in some local). Arrive half an hour late, which will recover with interest, after a tourist route through the center of Verona. The appointment with the train's safe up here and go to sleep like a stone, and coddled by the voices of the band from my senses now completely muffled by the cold.

We go to Milan, where everyone goes back to her things, there are those who fionderà with boots and crop directly to a party who will scrounge dinner and my aunt who, before taking another and much longer train pass through the center of Milan to see the Duomo.
I know of future plans and shared pizza, rides in the mountains, rafting in Val Sesia. I dream only a mega hot shower and a sea of \u200b\u200bhugs, that will help me pass the cold, but that certainly does not do crap. The Baldo

saw the departure

On top of Pozzette

Slip in mughi

Cima Valdritta

Alba from the top of Telegraph Group

intabarrato

Walking on the ridge

But on the ridge not just us!

a taste of flora: red lilies or St. John


Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Recommended Painkillers Before Waxing

cross the deep cutting of the Valle dei Mulini

17 June 2009 Mill Valley, or the chronicle of a day that could have been worse, but much better .
The premise is linked to the sun and the mega-hot in recent days. The forecast for Wednesday is our so-so (rhyming poetic license): cloudy, isolated thunderstorms possible, from the afternoon sun.
In fact we leave the chaos of Milan under a nice layer of clouds, which thickens right in our direction. Midway, having discovered a new interesting breakfast bar, it starts to rain, but little rain. We get to the trail and the music does not change, even the volume increases, especially that of thunder.
The bar is open and the stream does not take much to convince the rest of the gang to enter. While I think about what to do (go or not go? If going to go? Keep the original around or follow a more suitable time?) Throws me a burst of water into the blackest depression.
'E' impossible to go in this weather "I think, and I share my thoughts with others. Obviously the mood is under the heel to the nuts and dates await the outbreak of other thunder.

Pampered in the dry bar, drink coffee, taste samples of cake and make conversation, as a group of sprightly grannies British. Meanwhile, the Valley of the Mills River that passes right next to the bar, it was swollen badly, with muddy water color or light brown or dark brown (I got up the ball, see if there is anyone ready to make the cake of the bar).
What to do in these situations? is expected, expecting better times.
come news that it's raining in Milan, This does not comfort us all, even though each of these 15 people is far of the daily duties of a normal Wednesday.

But because here there is nothing normal, that it stops raining here, even the rumble of thunder are quickly receding. Talking to the bartender, tells me that if the Presolana is under the clouds, it is not hopeful ... Presolana and is under a mass of impenetrable clouds.
E 'in these times that it's my turn to make a decision, while not knowing what might come down to half an hour from here. But the weather gave improvements for the apple, also the sky has become much lighter, so here's the decision: "The Party" knowing that if necessary we'll come back, we have already accumulated quite a delay and more delay to make beautiful swollen fords.

We enter the valley and soon experience firsthand what lies ahead. It's easy to say "ford": those of today (at the end will have been a dozen more or less mica ... I counted them), eyes were swollen like a boxer after the match and pull of a slippery banana peels: however I've never seen the valley in these conditions.

Armed with sticks and patience, we begin to cross the first delivery and I both set a good example. The result is "rognosetto, but not difficult." The others go by and the only psychological resistance the boot is dipping into the water. Passed this all be easier.
The second ford is much more challenging: the stones used must fall and stretch your legs, but how does someone like me, extendable legs does not? It arranges, however passes. It 's a bit like a game without borders: you pass the stream several times, you have to climb on slippery rocks, we move on platforms suspended over the void, is then asked to belly crawl on the ground and finally the common thread, namely the overcoming of the wood ... if we were in the wet before, after the transition between the lower and upper branches are full of rain water wet well above. Along the way
accompanies the observation of some flowers typical of the area and period: dall'aquilegia, various orchids, flowering laburnum, concluding with wild garlic: the wood is impregnated with the scent and if only I had a piece of toast, a little 'fresh tomato and extra virgin olive oil, you know that I would serve bruschetta!

Finally we leave the embrace of the humid forest and we do a short break. And 'course, putting us 3 hours to get through this stretch, but we have many more interests in front of us and I think it will be a bit' too late. The final answer my last question before I receive the arriving at a crossroads: not even the shadow of Presolana, everything is still capped below educated gloomy fog.
"What sense does it go up the hill to see nothing?" Other
decision: Shorten the path to cutting Rusio. We are in the Hills
Presolana, well loaded with tender calves, that make me think of the hunger that seethes in the stomach. But the grim-eyed watchdog of ice makes me desist from any attempt at cooking, even if only imagined.
Take the wide track that descends to the valley, passing a second pool of water, pasture with cows, calves, horses and the ever-present dog. Place in the Hills Well, our shelter a few years ago. A girl of the cabin allows us the use of the outdoor dining area, where at last lunch.
The only surprise was the sight of a chamois that is toying following airy ridge. Not like us, who until a few minutes ago we stumble over the spray of the stream.

From here onwards there is no story. I went down to the base, recover the car and give us drinks: known to have served more hot chocolate and beers, an unequivocal sign of the day.
Not content with the fords of the fight, someone is delighted with the move, even with closed eyes, the river, which has now recovered its original size Microbial.

What about this tour? Gorgeous game of the fords, the beautiful Pratoni above, a disgusting the view and the narrow road downhill. But then some people said: "This year I do not need to go to Gardaland" and with this smile I greet the entire band of acrobats.

It starts with the first Ford ... from easy ;-)

Climb the valley

stuff for long lever

Dive nature

A Turk's cap lily

Outside the canyon, in the Pratoni

We humid but we ...


Friday, June 12, 2009

Ervamatin Hair Oil Is Good Or Not



Oporto

Vista on the deposits of the famous local wine

tests

singing in the streets of Funchal

Pending labor

Street with levada

The Sterlizia: symbol of the island along with the Protea

Passiflora

The flower brush

The trumpets

Contrasts

At the start of the walk

The hawk predator

The first scoglione

The second

Vista on both sides of the tip

Panorama towards the tip from a summit

The first bathroom

The gallery

The Falls Green Calderao

Centuries tree

Around Ruivo (but not is still what you see)

Vere mountains

the face of heather tree

Our path seen from the top

From the top to the tip of St. Lawrence

Quote 1800 and passes

The arrival of the clouds

L'Homme de Pè

The ocean of Porto Moniz

The natural swimming pools