I try and stay warm in my old, loftless sleeping bag wearing every stitch of clothing I have, including my storm gear and two hats. I dream, awake and asleep, of being warm and comfortable back in Colorado with my wonderful bride. Fantasy and harsh, cold reality could hardly be more diametrically opposed.
Gusts batter our aerie.
Inside my bivi sack in the dark I fight a constant war to keep my nose lined-up with the two inch air hole I keep in the zipper. No stars are visible the few times I risk a glance outside the sack. At dawn it's still cold, gusty, cloudy and definitely not a climbing day. There's nothing to do except wait. We daydream and sleep away the day, accompanied by the sound of the wind.