Time to get up! Bob writes:
"It's
still snowing, and of course the snow on the tent cascades down on
everything when the door is opened.
Time to melt more snow for hot water for coffee and oatmeal. In the
half-light, Bill finds Joey's brand-new titanium cookset under the
snow in the "kitchen" and, marveling at the special
thick-walled construction of the pot, starts on the oatmeal. Bob
notices what looks like black smoke curling from the pot, but in the
dim light, figures it must be steam. Turns out that Joey's
carefully-crafted neoprene pot-warmers were nested between two pots.
The oatmeal tastes a bit like burned rubber for some reason, but none
of us spurns it.
Through intermittent snow squalls and blue sky, it is a nice day if I could look up from the track in front of me long enough.
Joey writes:
"We load up. Takes forever. Days looking
good. Not snowing right now. Very slow going. Very deep. Hard work. I
lead. We go for two hours. Not sure where we are, but not far from
where we were. We decide to go until we hit a fork in the road so we
know for sure. Dr. Bob and Bill are beat. Bob's not looking much
better. I plod on, find a good pace, albeit slow. Could maybe make
it five miles in a day. Look over the map. Need five more days.
Before we find the fork Bob's done. We
wait for Bill and the Doctor. They agree. I step out of my skis.
Waist deep. I have to stomp out an area to avoid pissing on myself.
At least three feet of fresh, on who knows how much under that. Too
deep and we're only at 200 feet in elevation. Only going to get
worse. We turn around. Quick hour to ski back on our track to last
night's camp. All that work this morning for nothing. Easy going
back, but only for me. The Bobs and Bill are beat. We agree to push
further back towards town, maybe to the ocean and the junction of the
trail to town. Once there we decide it's too late to try to push to
town and dig some tent sites there. Bill digs a great kitchen. Room
for all. Hot coffee, relaxation. Spaghetti. Delicious. 
Just a little snow on a branch . . . .
Joey continues:
"The Bob's get cold and retreat to
their sleeping bags. My coats is wet. I hang it on my skis and it
freezes looking like a scare crow, scared the shit out of me in the
middle of the night. Bill and I make use of his fire starters.
Nothing burns but the lint he brought and the fire starters. Oh well,
lasts for maybe an hour. I've heard that just the sight of a fire can
warm you up. Maybe the Bob's should have hung out. It's seven o'clock
and I slip into bed. I read for a long while."
Nice warm jacket, Joey . . . .
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