Promontory path

Just past the tower the path takes to the scrub. The ground rises, the wind makes itself felt among the bushes, and the shore left below stays visible only in patches. This is not a climb to be timed. You walk in the thick of it, you come out onto a piece of rock, you go back into the shade. The park, from here, is no longer the postcard of the mountain seen from the lake: it is the undergrowth, the smell of mastic, the stride that shortens.