Forest on forest hung about his head,
Like cloud on cloud.
In the centre the water is dark blue as an Egyptian night; round the rim fallen pine-trunks are strewn in disorder along the bottom and dye the border of the lake the deepest red.
Below the lake smooth, wall-like cliffs threaten the valley, and huge rock-slips again bury the stream, giving by their rough unclothed surface an air of desolation to the landscape. When the water suddenly gushes out, a noble fountain, half its waters are at once seized and imprisoned afresh in stone channels, which are soon seen high up on opposite sides of the glen running boldly along the face of vertical cliffs to carry refreshment to the upper slopes of Val di Non.
The cart-road descends rapidly through a deep and narrow gorge which, after making a sharp angle, opens into the noble expanse of the great valley a mile below Tuenno, and three or four below Cles. The high-road would soon carry us down to the Adige and the railway-station of San Michele. But we have yet to see the Lago di Molveno and the back of the Brenta.
At the eastern base of the dolomitic chain, more than 7,000 feet below its crowning crags, lies a deep trough, bounded on the further side by the crest of Monte Gazza, which, descending in steep cliffs into the valley of the Adige, slopes more gently towards the west. A considerable portion of this depression, the waters of which are turned in opposite directions by a low bank traversing its centre, is filled by the Lago di Molveno, one of the largest of high Alpine lakes. A strong stream flowing from the Val delle Seghe is its principal feeder, and, strange to say, it has no visible outlet. The village of Molveno, situated at the head of the lake, is the natural head-quarters for the exploration of the neighbouring mountains. Its situation, at a height of 3,000 feet above the sea, and close to peaks of nearly 11,000 feet, is so attractive, that if reasonable accommodation were provided it would become a favourite halting-place for travellers. At present it is almost completely unknown.[62]
The tracks to Molveno most frequented by the country people are those from the gorge of the Rocchetta in Val di Non and from the valley of the Sarca, near the Baths of Comano. We shall choose the northern.
We had spent a day of continuous downpour in driving down the Val di Non, and it was already late afternoon when our dripping omnibus deposited us in front of the wayside inn which marked the turning-point of the path to Val di Spor and Molveno.
As we wound up the steep hill the last clouds blew over, and wide views opened on all sides over the rich gentle slopes of the Nonsberg, covered with white villages, whose wet walls and roofs glittered in the slanting sunshine. Before long Spor itself came into sight, lifted high on a healthy hillside and capped by a picturesque castle. The sound of its sonorous church bells followed us far on our way. Hereabouts we left the cart-road and followed a shorter track under the castle-crag and along the eastern hillside to the village of Cenedago. Hence a short ascent over meadows, gorgeous in June with tiger-lilies, leads to the watershed, and the path, passing a pine-girt pool, begins almost imperceptibly to descend before Andolo is reached and the road rejoined. Our way now followed the right bank of the Bior brook, through woods above whose tree-tops tall dolomite pinnacles shot up against the sky. The forest soon thickened, and, although the ground no longer rose in front, shut out all view in the direction of Molveno, until on a sudden a corner was turned, and at the end of a long dark-green vista,
Lo! the shining levels of the lake,