The sky hangs heavy over the Allgäu Alps. The view from the Fellhorn sweeps across a dramatic horizon, where the peaks of the main ridge rise out of the mist like ancient titans. The Trettachspitze, sharp and unconventional, pierces the clouds like a dagger. Next to it, the Mädelegabel stretches towards the sky in a proud triple jag, followed by the Hochfrottspitze, the highest point in this wild series. The Bockkarkopf follows, striking and massive, surrounded by the dancing veils of rising moisture.
The landscape seems enraptured - timeless, almost unreal. Masses of cloud glide through the valleys and envelop the mountains in a play of light and shadow. What remains is silence. A silence that is not empty, but full - of history, of wind, of unspoken amazement.
Here, the Allgäu reveals itself not in a gentle idyll, but in archaic beauty. The black and white colouring intensifies the drama, as if you were listening to an old song of the earth. Whoever lingers here senses the sublimity of nature - raw, majestic and full of depth. A moment that lingers long after the fog has lifted.
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