Slush... slush... slush. Through knee-deep snow and slush we walked, and across icy paths, until we reached the fog-filled forest. We sang a song about "Roodkapje"or Little Red Riding Hood in Dutch (is there even an Enlgish or German version?).
Once we reached the "Wurzhütte", a little log cabin on the Rödlas hill, we met friends and had cake and coffee, then beer and open-faced German sandwiches.
Soon it was time for us to go and for them to clean up. It was getting dark and there would be no further hikers wandering up until next weekend. They added up the money... €70 was the profit for the afternoon. For some it would hardly be worth it... but the Wurzhütte is a labor of love.
The four people who had volunteered their time - and their cake - on this Sunday began to sweep, mop, wash dishes by hand, and board up the shutters. They're living proof that this is a special place and a wonderful tradition -- one that I hope lives on for decades, if not centuries, to come.
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