A guest post from one of the Mulas.
The Mulas Locas tossed their packs to the ground. Some with disregard some with care. The wind whipped and whirred outside as a huge thunderhead built up in the East framing the brown ridge top of Pramillo del vacas in gold and white. They all sorted into the geodesic dome and many flopped to their sides and backs on the floor panting and hissing for air.