So there we were, halfway from St. Martin to Sardonahütte.
We were ready to go.
So we followed Jerry as he opened the gate that led from the forest out into the cow pasture where cow bells clanged around the necks of contented Swiss cows grazing in the alpine meadows about us.
And we began our final ascent.
Ok, I admit it, final ascent is over-dramatic. This was a fair hike but not treacherous, although Gabrielle and Jerry, being seasoned hikers consistently left us in the dust. And I further admit that although it was not treacherous, I was streaming rivers of sweat at I brought up the rear as I finally cleared the last step and joined the rest.
The weather had turned on us a bit with a few snowflakes falling from the gray sky. And the periodic rain led me to put the camera away. So I fear I have no visual record of that last step to the hut. But you know, we didn’t hang around much outside the door, even to take in the view. (At least I didn’t. The three of them already had been, as they waited for the slacker to arrive).
We stepped inside, leaned our trekking poles agains the wall, threw down our packs, kicked off our boots and climbed the steps to the (heated) main floor where before long we were sitting warmly and comfortably eating soup and bread and pasta with broad smiles on our faces.
alpine ascent: check.