OPENING

While building this site, I stumbled on an old archive folder. What follows are some words written a long time ago, about a climb which, while utterly unremarkable by the standards of the day, opened doors which I didn’t even know existed.

If you know, you know.

I settled into my tent, floating on waves of Sigur Rós, and considered my options.

Splitting the team, descending back to 14k camp as the guys continued up, had not been in the plan. But that’s the nature of moving in the mountains, sometimes you just have to make the next best decision. Play the hand you’re dealt.

Ensuring we made it safely back into camp, I had been certain that I would not see the upper parts of the mountain on this trip. Now, I was not so sure. I tend not to solo by choice, preferring shared experience, and the enhanced efforts a good partnership can support. But now I had a choice; wait, or move.

I was strong, and well acclimatized. I was comfortable with the terrain up to and along the crest of the ridge to high camp. My greatest pleasure in the mountains had always come from moving efficiently on terrain interesting enough to hold the attention, but moderate enough to travel quick, and light.

Wait, or move? Sit, or climb? Talk, or act.

Tools, warm clothes, light pack, some snacks, two litres of water…and go.

 My journal continues no further. My experiences and thoughts from the day that followed, and from our descent, and return to Full Standard breakfasts at the Talkeetna Road House, never made it onto paper. In someway, perhaps, this makes the memories and impressions all the stronger.