From the road leading to El Chaltén, Mount Fitz Roy appears between the clouds like a giant in waiting. Its jagged spires rise from the suspended white of snow and mist, while the cold light of southern Argentina softens every contour into a glacial dream.
In the foreground, a simple wooden fence cuts across the low pampas grass, introducing a quiet but meaningful human presence. A minimal gesture, almost shy, standing before the vastness and majesty of the mountains.
The image builds a remarkable balance between natural force and the sense of human limitation. The atmosphere is cold, wind-swept, but not dramatic — almost poetic in its stillness: Fitz Roy does not dominate with violence, but with a vertical calm that commands reverence.
And the road, curve after curve, seems only to approach — never quite arriving.
It is then that Fitz Roy reveals its original name: El Chaltén, “the smoking mountain.” A white guardian watching over the valleys, suspended between earth and sky, between clouds and legend.
Born in Milan on November 28, 1977, I’ve been living in Bormio for many years, where I work as a ski instructor and draw endless inspiration from the surrounding mountains and nature.
Photography, to me, is not just about representation, it’s about interpretation.
Many of my..
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