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  • Day 5

    The Road To Nowhere Tunnel

    April 21, 2022 in the United States ⋅ ⛅ 66 °F

    I found it! Finally

    The main road just ends like 6 miles out (I think I read). The end of the road is barricaded to cars, and just beyond the barricade is the tunnel. They were building this road in the 1940s and after completing the tunnel, just stopped. I guess that's what happens when you get tunnel vision, you end up in the road to nowhere.

    The tunnel was about 15-20 degrees cooler than outside it seemed. Graffiti lined both sides of the walls. The road has eroded over time and the horse manure is plentiful. It didn't smell bad though. Starting into the the tunnel there was plenty of light, but when I reached the middle it was pitch black dark except for the light at the end of the tunnel. I had my lantern. I walked to the other side and sat down on a fallen tree trunk for a bit. Walking back I was the only one in the tunnel, so I sang The Alpine Shepherdess, an Italian aria that I know by heart. I sang it in a recital when I was 17. It's a fun song to sing. I sang it walking down the Grand Canal in Venice too.

    La Pastorella dell'Alpi

    Count Carlo Pepoli

    Son bella pastorella,

    Che scende ogni mattino

    Ed offre un cestellino

    Di fresche frutta e fior.

    Chi viene al primo albore

    Avrà vezzose rose

    E poma rugiadose,

    Venite al mio giardin.

    Chi nel notturno orrore

    Smarrì la buona via,

    Alla capanna mia

    Ritroverà il cammin.

    Venite, o passaggiero,

    La pastorella è qua,

    Ma il fior del suo pensiero

    Ad uno sol darà!

    The Shepherdess of the Alps

    English Translation © Nicholas Cornforth

    I am the pretty shepherdess,

    Who comes down every morning,

    Offering a little basket

    Of fresh fruit and flowers.

    Those who come at first light

    Will find delightful roses

    And apples damp with dew,

    Come all to my garden.

    Those who lost their way

    In the horror of the night,

    Will find their path once more

    At my little cabin.

    Come, oh passing traveller,

    The shepherdess is here,

    Yet the flower of her thoughts

    She will give to one and one alone
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