The map-chosen road was not what we expected. Steep/narrow/twisting - probably cleared first by ox teams - it remained quite intolerant of speed. But when we had slowed to the pace it chose the road was quick to point out: a silvered lake a green nave of embracing pines massive-shouldered mountains screened by slim shafts of grey beech a curious/bewildered young doe which fled from us airily away. Long before we reached our destination the old road - the oxen-cleared slow road - had brought us where we really wanted to go.

You've read  of  free articles. Subscribe to continue.