Spain

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We drove through the Pyrenees and across France to Spain following the mountain bends; the roads curving in alternate succession forming our path along the way and it almost seemed if the mountains alternated rather that the road ascending to the rise and fall of the pitch.  And it was there I witnessed for the first time near Valencia these majestic mosaic fields of white rock and limestone where orange trees seem to grow in groves for miles and miles from right out of the white sands.

There were the olive trees too that covered every surface area defending the glistening inlets from the Mediterranean Sea with villages nestling in valleys pointing the way to the to Tarragona; one of the most ancient parts of southern Spain. We were heading to Barcelona, Cartagena then Madrid. Each a Roman City with visual evidence of remains even older than before recorded time and places that have been inhabited by humans for more two millennia.

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The land is massive and diverse with incredible biodiversity and where everything survives from these limestone mountains. They hills are dotted with cave homes and castles forts every ten miles just to give you an idea of the scale of the countryside.

Driving beneath these ridges we had made our from Tarragona to Barcelona by sunset. Just an hour from Cartagena we could have been in Portugal or Morocco depending on our direction of our destination.

Destiny is the universal principle and the ultimate by which the order of things is presumably prescribed; the decreed cause of events and time. These are the Argons and maybe if these mountains had eyes, they would wake to find us standing in admiration of them. I can feel them and it is as if they could breathe life into me like the wind upon the earth’s shore. These Argon Mountains have seen untold sunrises with the many who have longed to conquer; not to forget the Crusaders who passed through here when they came only to thunder praise standing reverent and so silent.

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We were in these mountains in January near Valencia. We had just left Barcelona and on our way to Catalonia. It is close to Morocco was just thinking of the Moors and who fought and failed to take possession of this lands. When I look at them the land seems almost impenetrable for those who might have attempted to enter with the idea of conquering. There are just too many hilltop castles and  fortresses along the way to the East, North, and South and beyond.

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They left traces of history and probably built for protection from the Moors. It’s there in these mountains where I can almost feel the traces of destiny that they left behind. And it was here where I see proof that destiny is part of the life’s journey; and I know it does not come about without some tension and maybe we’re are not always supposed to know how things will be or turn out, but perhaps we were just lead hear by Faith. I don’t know for sure, but I think the mountain is in us; and maybe its just a part of the daily climb; where it continues to kindle my every enthusiasm, making my every nerve quiver, filling every pore and cell of me.

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