A huge thunderstorm and lightning rattled the hut during the night but in the morning the cook warmed our hearts with cappuccino and hot crepes with jam. The weather prediction for 1.6 inches of rain had us jittery. After spectacular weather for the entire trip we thought our luck had run out. It reminded me of some climbers who stomped into our hut before 9 am and ordered beer then asked the hut manager about the current weather report. The manager shrugged and said, "It's the mountains, only God knows." Nevertheless, we persisted and hit the trail where we found blue skies, a man with the critical job of stocking the hut with beer-necessities via a tow lift, and amoosing cows. We walked past a small lake and hundreds of tiny froglets crossed our path leapfrogging toward the water. It was ribbiting. We were glad we weren't wearing open-toad sandals! The rain and hail struck but by then we were fat and happy eating a light dinner at the hut cafeteria.
It looks like you’ve got your linguistic groove back now that you survived the most treacherous bits. Is that cow using Arlo as a salt lick?
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