The well laid out and partly restored walls encircle a raised area that culminates in a pinnicle which reaches the full height at a stone crest of sheer cliff that forms the eatern bastion of the castle. Standing on this crest looking toard the southwest, the gaze is directed into the mountains of Hum from which the River Raska flows. To the Northwest, Sopochani Monastery stands prayerful guard over the mouth of the canyon which opens toward the East. It sparkles like a flawless pearl in its golden meadow far below. Above it, the peak of Mt. Ninaja reaches heavenward. Off to the Northeast, one can see far beyond, all the way to Novi Pazar, and out into the broad valley where the River Raska humbly yields her identity to the Ibar. Almost directly below, the Raska flows in graceful curves down the valley. I occurs to me that the Russians call their greatest river Matushka Volga. Perhaps we Serbs, while noting the majesty of the Dunav, might draw from a deeper, spiritual and more humble sense with in and call this narrow brook which nourished our ancestors “little mother Raska.” The sun was beginning to make a glorious exit from this full and wonderful day, and it ws urgent to geet down from the mountain before dark. Naturally, the journey back down was much faster than the hike up, and with a few foolhardy shortcuts, we were back to the little natural garden around the inn just as daylight was vanishing. That night we slept in little stone cottages beneath Stari Grad Ras and just ouside our windows the River Raska sang us to sleep with tales of our ancestors
Posted on: Mon, 07 Apr 2014 20:33:56 +0000
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