I walked in the snow and my foot got bogged down in each step. I pulled it out and it got mired in the next step. The air coming in my nasal cavity was chilly. After a while there was a lodge.
It was empty other than a wooden bench. There is no door; the so-called door is a hole for you to duck in and out. It was not a closed space but it was still warm in the lodge. As long as it was not as chilly as outside, it was warm.
I remember that I brought cheese, bread, boiled eggs, and an apple. After I ate them there was no more to do in the lodge so I resumed my hike.
That was last summer in Switzerland. It doesn’t make sense to snow in Faulhorn in August but it just did. The need shrinks to the minimum to the very basic in the snow. An empty lodge on the way is highly appreciated.
I met many lodges and owe them the grace. Beauty is shown to me and I reckon it as a privilege.
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