Kicking steps up a steep gully, we rappeled down the other side onto the massive Boston Glacier. The sun broke through. Down the slushy Boston we skied, then up again to a far col, always keeping the classic horn of Forbidden on our left shoulders. Everyone else was having a grand time, but the dust on my Suzanne Somers ThighMaster now haunted me. I dropped further behind, which only made things worse.
Nothing adds to the weight of a pack like humiliation.
I had begun to jettison bags of gorp like a desperate balloonist dropping ballast. To their credit, Martin and Shane were extremely professional and patient with me, the team's growing liability. At the bottom, sunk like a garnet in a ragged setting, is Moraine Lake and the next night's camp. Here, however, things really got interesting. If we didn't want to get trapped by rain-triggered avalanches at the lake, we needed to bypass the lake and climb another 2,500 feet, to a plateau near the Inspiration Glacier.