Claudia and I set off. Just below the bergerie, in the shade of a cluster of three big pines, we saw the group "taking communion". Sure enough there was a little alter high in the elbow of one of the trees, complete with a white cloth, and where the trunk forked about three meters up, a group of candles were burning. The group of people were drinking. Another set of trekkers were obviously all set to get a day behind.
Figure 29: The end of the trail
The sun was so warm that the salamanders were out in large numbers, so many in fact that it was hard to avoid treading on them. But they had warmed up so much that they were quite agile—I actually saw one of them leap from one rock to another. To celebrate our descent through the one thousand meter mark for the first time in over a week, Claudia started to sneeze again. The valley dropped sharply and turned east. It was joined from the south-west by another, almost as narrow, and with the water its stream added to the Mangarello, the new joint effort was almost a river. A bridge between two enormous rocks carried us high over the new body of water. A waterfall thundered on the upstream side. The path ended just the other side where it met a track wide and solid enough for motor traffic, as evidenced by the inevitable vehicle parked right there. Uphill was to the refuge, downhill to Canaglia.
Figure 30: Final mug shot of the mugs
Down we went, and were soon caught up by Martha and Alfie. We followed the track which followed the river. In less than an hour the track had turned to a road, and the road entered the village. We had been advised that there was a café in the village and it was true. And sitting outside were our guided friends. They had been caught out on the crêtes and had had a very rough time. They had given up too. We sat down, ordered a round of beer and a taxi, and had one of our German friends take our picture. It was all over.
