| While bicycle touring Sardinia
we rounded a corner and were immediately silenced. Having exited
the forest we found ourselves on the edge of a sharp escarpment.
"Whew!" Sharon said, her breath leaving her in a whoosh
as she stopped to survey the vast awe-inspiring expanse of the
plain far below. "Look at that!" she said, pointing
to a spectacular castle ruin, standing high atop a crumbling
volcanic plug. "I wouldn't have wanted to be an invader
trying to get in there," I said, noticing the near-vertical
sides of the old volcano. In its heyday, the imposing fortress
must have been a formidable sight indeed. We pushed off, heading
down, down, down. "This is more like it!" we yelled,
as we descended toward the valley floor, swooping around curves
with the greatest of ease like a pair of synchronized trapeze
artists. In scant minutes, we had to crane our necks to view
the Castel of Goceano, already soaring high above us. |
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