Hopping on and off the little islands of the One Thousand Island Lake

It was early November, and in Hangzhou I had the first signs of what it would have been the Chinese winter. It's here that I experienced the first cold and had an idea of what to expect.

Although Shanghai's temperatures winter time are usually between 10° and 3°C, this year the city has been hit by an unusual wave of cold, joining the rose of countries slammed by anomalous weather conditions all over the globe, from Australia to the US to Brazil, to Europe. Unlike the past years, however, it's not raining much in Shanghai, nor I'm finding it very humid.

When I went to Hangzhou, it wasn't as cold as it is now, but as we were used to last summer's blazing heat, the sudden dropping of the temperature probably felt colder than it actually was. Additionally, spending most of the time in the upper deck of the boat defying wind and most annoying fine rain in order to catch the best views for photos (I know, very heroic of me), made it even more biting.

Every island has its own peculiarity, be it the recurrence of Chinese zodiac symbols, a ridiculously high concentration of snakes, or picturesque temples. In one of the islands I got on the cableway to further admire the view. Thick clouds, unfortunately, didn't allow a clear view of the landscape which, revealed pretty overwhelming nonetheless.

I'll take this as an excuse to go back during springtime, to devote a sunny weekend uniquely to those little islands, to fully enjoy what the One Thousand Island Lake has to offer and take the shots I missed last time.

More photos of the lake on my Flickr set.

In Sardinia, walking down Europe's deepest canyon

Su Gorroppu, Dorgali

I had been warned it was tough, but in line with Sardinian stubbornness, I challenged my out-of-shapeness and made my way to Europe's deepest canyon, Su Gorroppu, near Dorgali, Sardinia's eastern coast.

The deal involved parking our car (after a drive along the very edge of a steep cliff) 200 mt above the gorge of the canyon and walking down towards the valley. "It cannot be that difficult," I thought. It didn't take me long to change my mind.

From second one, I had to mind every single step in order to avoid slipping down the cliff. The path bristled with small rolling stones that made it slippery, and bigger boulders that only apparently were stuck in the ground but that actually rolled too. And even the ones that were stuck were slippery because too worn out, for that matter.

The walk started quietly, the members of my group very interested in our guides' explanations, but after a while, all our geologic interest was inevitably fading away. We were too concentrated on placing our feet on the right stones.

The view was overwhelming, every time I looked in front of me I couldn't help but thinking how small man-made wonders are compared to what nature has done.

Being naturally rich in wood, also valuable species such as juniper, the mountains have been the target of former Italian royal family, the Savoia, who, when they colonised the island creating the Sardo-Piedmont kingdom, started a real sack, exploiting the natives and destroying the forests to obtain wood, coal and scented ashes for the houses. Thousands of trees have been cut down, burnt and loaded to the ships on the way to Piedmont. The result has been a huge damage for the environment (and for the local population), and only now little by little the forest is beginning to come back to normal.

In particularly difficult spots, I started cursing myself for having chosen this excursion instead of some other great places Sardinia is full of, and certainly less dangerous. No matter what, I kept shooting, in the hope to come out at least with some good pictures. I saw the woman behind me looking puzzled: "I admire your willingness on photographing!" She told me, sweating.

The route was actually hard, full of trees (the only handhold I could rely on), and very narrow, so we asked our guides: "What if someone gets his ankle sprained?" "No helicopter nor ambulance can manage to get here," was the guides pithy answer. "We leave the weak here, wildlife have the right to eat too!" Drowsy laugh from the rest of the group.

The moments I was getting despondent, I threatened: "That's it, I'm not moving anymore!" Bad choice, really not the case to get lost in the middle of nowhere, I wouldn't have been able to find my way back to the car, I had to keep going, no way out.

Once reached the destination, my fury calmed down, being on the bottom of the canyon was worth our fatigue, and our courage was restored. Good for us, because we were about to do uphill the same route we had just descended from.

I kept shaking all evening, my mood having ranged from panic to discouragement all day. I swore I would never go back again: the day after I had already changed my mind and started planning the next excursion.