And gets to walk in mud, slosh through puddles, and eat the last remnants of snow on the Mostalpe.
Saturday promised to be sunny and warm, and we could either spend the day packing and preparing for an upcoming adventure, or join the many others heading to the hills. What would you choose?
Our wily guide has been waiting for this since November, and on Saturday morning he positioned himself in the hallway as if to say, “You go nowhere without me.”
Someone was having a great hike. (Actually, we all were having a great hike. Tony was streaming Anna Grace’s basketball tournament in Bonn on his phone while we hiked, and it was exciting to watch the Lady Knights beat their cross-town rival by just one point at the buzzer.)
This particular Alm, if the decor is any indication, has probably been in the family forever. By 1215 when we walked in, only two of the 20 or so tables were open. The Viennese take their hiking and schnitzeling seriously.
Staring toward the kitchen, CTF was on Pommes High Alert. No fewer than five other dogs were doing the same.
Lunch did not disappoint. Schnitzel and Pommes for us; Pommes (and a bite of Schnitzel) for CTF.
On the descent from the hilltop, dessert.