Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.

 

John Muir

Our National Parks (1901)

Descripción de Gavarnie
Por Victor Hugo (1802–1885)

From “Dieu” 

Et maintenant regarde : Un cirque ! un hippodrome,
Un théâtre où Stamboul, Tyr, Memphis, Londres, Rome,
Avec leurs millions d’hommes pourraient s’asseoir,
Où Paris flotterait comme un essaim du soir !
Gavarnie ! un miracle ! un rêve ! Architectures
Sans constructeurs connus, sans noms, sans signatures,
Qui dans l’obscurité gardez votre secret,
Arches, temples qu’Aaron ou Moïse sacrait,
O champ clos de Tarquin où trois-cent milles têtes
Fourmillaient, où l’Atlas hideux vidait ses bêtes,
Casbahs, At-meïdans, tours, Kremlins, Rhamséions,
Où nous, spectres, venons, où nous nous asseyons,
Panthéons, parthénons, cathédrales qu’ont faites
De puissants charpentiers aux âmes de prophètes,
Monts creusés en pagode où vivent des airains,
Aux plafonds monstrueux, sombres ciels souterrains,
Cirques, stades, Elis, Thèbe, arènes de Nîmes ;
Noirs monuments, géants, témoins, grands anonymes,
Vous n’êtes rien, palais, dômes, temples, tombeaux,
Devant ce colysée inouï du chaos !
Vois : l’homme fait ici le bruit de l’éphémère :
C’est l’apparition, l’énigme, la chimère
Taillée à pans coupés et tirée au cordeau.
L’aube est sur le fronton comme un sacré bandeau,
Et cette énormité songe, auguste et tranquille.
Morceau d’Olympe ; reste étrange d’une ville
De l’infini, qu’un être inconnu démembra ;
Cour des lions d’un vague et sinistre Alhambra ;
Gageure de Dédale et de Titan ; démence
Du compas ivre et roi dans la montagne immense ;
Stupeur du voyageur qui suspend son chemin ;
Exagération du monument humain. .
Jusqu’à la vision, jusqu’à l’apothéose ;
Monde qui n’est pas l’homme et qui n’est plus la chose ;
Entrée inexprimable et sombre du granit
Dans le rêve, où la pierre en prodige finit
Problème ; précipice édifice ; sculpture
Du mystère ; œuvre d’art de la fauve nature ;
Construction que nie et que voit la raison,
Et qu’achève, au delà du terrestre horizon ;
Sur le mur de la nuit, la fresque de L’abîme ;
C’est Vignole à la base et l’éclair sur la cime.
C’est le spectre de tout ce que l’homme bâtit,
Terrible, raillant l’homme, et ;le faisant petit.

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

By William Wordsworth (1770–1850)

 

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

 

Wordsworthcloud tl

Imagen tomada de: http://www.bl.uk/learning/timeline/item126751.html

The Influence of Nature
By William Wordsworth (1770–1850)

From “Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey”

 

THESE beauteous forms,
Through a long absence, have not been to me
As is a landscape to a blind man’s eye;
But oft in lonely rooms, and ’mid the din
Of towns and cities, I have owed to them,
In hours of weariness, sensations sweet,
Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart;
And passing even into my purer mind
With tranquil restoration:—feelings too
Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps,
As have no slight or trivial influence
On that best portion of a good man’s life,
His little, nameless, unremembered acts
Of kindness and of love. Nor less I trust
To them I may have owed another gift
Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood
In which the burthen of the mystery,
In which the heavy and the weary weight
Of all this unintelligible world,
Is lightened:—that serene and blessed mood
In which the affections gently lead us on,—
Until, the breath of this corporeal frame,
And even the motion of our human blood,
Almost suspended, we are laid asleep
In body, and become a living soul:
While with an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
We see into the life of things.

 

I have learned
To look on nature, not as in the hour
Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of humanity,
Nor harsh, nor grating, though of ample power
To chasten and subdue. And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts: a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean, and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man:
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things.

Gavarinie  Albumen print

Autor: F. Maxwell Lyte 
Título: Cirque de Gavarnie, Haute Pyrénées 
Año: 1860 (ca) 
  
Técnica: Albumen silver print 
Dimensiones: 27.3 x 31.7 cm 
  
Localización: National Gallery of Canada 
Gift of David Lewall, Andorra, and of Edward and John Lewall, British Columbia, 2003, no. 41331 

Tomado de: http://www.luminous-lint.com/__phv_app.php?/p/F_Maxwell__Lyte/

Voyage aux pyrenees

“Nature never deceives you: the rocks, the mountains, the streams, always speak the same language; a shower of snow may hide the verdant woods in spring, a thunder-storm may render the blue limpid streams foul and turbulent; but these effects are rare and transient: in a few hours, or at most in a few days, all the sources of beauty are renovated. And nature affords no continued trains of misfortunes and miseries, such as depend upon the constitution of humanity; no hopes forever blighted in the bud, no beings, full of life, beauty, and promise, taken from us in the prime of youth. Her fruits are all balmy and sweet; she affords none of those blighted ones, so common in the life of man, and so like the fabled apples of the Dead Sea, fresh and beautiful to the sight, but, when tasted, full of bitterness and ashes.”

Sir Humphry Davy.

Yosemite  Albumin

Charles Leander Weed (1828-1903), (Thomas Houseworth & Co. publishers)
Yo-Semite Valley from the Mariposa Trail, 1864
Mammoth plate albumen print
15 3/4 X 20 1/4 in.
Gift of the Oakland Museum Women’s Board
A79.87.26
 
Tomado de: http://albumen.conservation-us.org

Las fotos antiguas del Pirineo me hacen sentir una nostalgia especial. En particular esas fotografías que atacadas por el paso del tiempo todavía resisten y dejan ver un esplendor pasado, y nos transportan a la época fundacional del pirineismo. Como esta foto. Aunque en realidad la tomé en 2011. Pero me gusta el aspecto que ha tomado después de procesarla. Y así quiero empezar una sección de fotografías evocadoras y de homenaje a los fotógrafos que recorrieron el Pirineo antes que nosotros.

IMG 0034

“L’ideal du pyrénéiste est de savoir à la fois ascensionner, écrire et sentir. S’il écrit sans monter, il ne peut rien. S’il monte sans écrire, il ne laisse rien. Si, montant, il relate sec, il ne laisse rien qu’un document, qui peut être il est vrai de haut interêt. Si -chose rare- il monte, écrit et sent, si en un mot il est le peintre d’une nature spéciale, le peintre de la montagne, il laisse un vrai livre, admirable”

Henri Beraldi (1849 – 1931)