By the time we went into camp last night, the view of our surroundings was cut off by a thick fog. Or they may have been clouds, given our elevation.
This morning, whether it was clouds or fog, they had all dissipated under the gaze of the rising sun. And we could then see the lake winking at us far below.
The way ahead was more difficult, narrowing down to a mere track. Beside us water splashed down the rock bed of the ever present brook.
I looked ahead and could see Tomas stopped on a precipice. And guessed the destination our army companions.
Flashes of white behind Tomas drew my eye to a glacier on the next mountain peak.
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