Mountain Hut

This weekend Dan, Balazs, Michael and I led a group of 31 boys on an overnight excursion high into the alps near us.  We took two buses: the second ascended a thousand meters over forty five dramatic minutes, passing one massive dam and ending at a second one.

From the dam we were surrounded by snow capped mountains with a small window down into the valley from which we’d just escaped.  One dam looked down onto the other where we could easily spy our residence for the night  – a lonely pair of buildings in a sparse landscape.  On our hike down to the hut we saw dozens of marmots  a family of alpine ibex and two golden eagles soaring close to the ground a hundred of feet above our heads.

The owner of the hut was an old cowherd who appeared on an ancient motorbike like a character out of an old Disney film wearing laderhosen, a dirty checked shit and pointy hat designed for elves.  We hung out at the hut, played games and ate Schnitzel.

The next morning was clear and cold as a bell.  We had a light breakfast and hiked back to the top to catch the bus.  The highlight of my trip was creating an ice pack for an injured camper by stuffing glacial snow into one of my socks then fixing it to him with gauze.  The little guy was alright in the end and I got to see the specks of light from other huts in the mountain night mingle with stars peeking out from behind the clouds.





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