Mountains are amazingly emotive. This despite them being nowhere near as alive as Julie Andrews implied in The Sound of Music. In the average lowland marsh there are countless more living things, so what is it that makes the traveller gooey eyed about mountains? Why do we climb them, leaving ourselves exhausted?
Long before the Victorians were sea-dipping people were heading for the hills and I suppose it is about perspective. The greatness of the view, the greatness of the mountain itself, somehow St Gilgan looks attractive in the photograph even though you cannot really see it. It's beauty is made by the mountain perspective.
Isn't that what faith in God does too?
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