the left to mount shasta

     My mom lives in northen California, so way up north that even people from the south (San Francisco!) think that i might be hallucinating when i talk about Yreka. Eureka? No, Yreka. Humboldt? No, Yreka. Are you sure is not Eureka? Oh, well… California is well known everywhere in the world, but the northen part of it is still a mystery even to a few americans. There is hope, i’ve met a girl from East Bay that not only knew Yreka, but went close by bicycle some years ago.
But enough with unpractical memories about a nice girl. What i would like to talk about is the road from my mom’s place to town. There is always a moment or two of amazement for me. She lives in a valley, we can’t see much further. When we take the road to Yreka, we go through a small canyon and then, right on a left curve (!), there is always a beat, then surprise. Mount Shasta beautifully appears. I am always excited about how it will look. Sometimes the sky is all clear, we can see the whole mountain and its glaciers, sometimes all cloudy, just the peak or parts of it – days when people say the spaceship is hanging around. He.
I never had much relation with nature before, living in big cities just petrifies oneself. We just get used to concrete and asphalt. I knew that in eastern philosophy mountains are meaningful, as sacred places and as metaphor of life itself with all its difficulties that we must go through. Mount Shasta got me. I’ve been skiing over there, all good and fun, but next time my wish is to walk around and live it some days. Just be there…