I was just seven years old when I was brought there for the first time. The Austrian winter left a light snowfall over the towering trees around me, flakes slowly falling onto the barren track, melting upon contact with my warm skin. As I trudged through the increasingly thickening snow, I stared in awe at the beautiful landscape laid out before me. Trees stood taller than I had ever seen before with prickly leaves a perfect white, the trunks a deep brown, thick and strong against the harsh conditions. The vigorous smell of pine invaded my nostrils upon every sniff, and the freezing air left a sharp bite in my lungs as I made my way up the forest ridden mountain.
I loved every moment of being in that forest; the beauty overwhelmed my every human sense. I did not want to leave. When we arrived home after our trip to Austria, my seven year old self could never stop talking about 'the place with the trees'.
There wasn't a day for months that I did not beg to go back. It wasn't until I was twelve years old that I got to embrace its beauty for a second time. It was autumn. The forest was unrecognisable without the snow, but even more impossibly beautiful. The rough track was covered in leaves of orange, yellow and brown. I noticed trees that were desperately trying to withhold their grasp on the final few leaves yet to fall. The little sun there was, fiercely tried to break through branches, leaving fine rays along the track and glistened against the vibrant colours of fallen leaves.
As I trekked upwards, my breath was taken from me. This time due not to the fiercely cold air or the fact that I was tired, but to the sheer perfection of the scenery that surrounded me. Every corner made, the ascent of every hill, every tree and every fallen leaf sent the hairs on the back of my neck dancing and caused an eruption of goosebumbs to flow throughout my body like a wave of satisfying electricity.
As I rose higher and higher, the oxygen in the air became limited and the trees began to clear. This was higher than I had ever previously climbed, as the snow was too thick to pass through those five years ago in the mid-winter season.
I was coming close to the peak of the mountain, my heart thumping heavily in my chest as I pushed past the last steep hill. I was at the highest point. I was on top of the world. I looked down around me at the miles and miles of barren country side. It was like a painting perfectly executed by a renaissance artist, it was exquisite. I suddenly envisioned bringing my future wife and children here, so they could experience the beauty of the forest and feel an absolute sense of completion as they rose to the mountains peak and saw the landscape beneath them. This would forever be my favourite place to come in the whole world. There was nothing more beautiful or breath taking in my mind than this forest.
