FALLING! Pumped. I'm very pumped. My feet were good but the left one now seems to be squishing out of the sharp crack. My hands are past the point where they could operate a cam. The fall is inevitable. I'm past denial and, reaching acceptance, mutter "falling" so as to alert Steve to my decision.

The foot goes about the same time as the hands and boom! There I go. "FALLING", I holler, this time with feeling. A few seconds of terror then, Zing! Magically brought to a comfortable stop. Hanging in space. Never touched the rock. Whew!

I'm dangling down below the roof, totally pumped. My arms are like rock. When this happens in the gym it's, like, well, time to go home. I check out my high point. It's up 20 steep feet that now gotta be climbed again. I attempt to weasel, but my supportive partner encourages me to bravely push forward.
 


The Standoff Hot, tired, thirsty. Fading dusk. We're headed down to the packs, traversing the ledges below Orbit. A couple of goats stare at us and block our way on the narrow ledge. These things don't blink when you yell but usually bolt when you get too close. I herd 'em along a bit until at a steeper spot the big one turns and stands me off. Those things got some pointy horns. I back off and we start figurin' on what we're gonna do. Steve suggests peeing. Back at a wider part of the ledge we squeeze some pee from dehydrated bladders while vocally depicting sounds of a more robust piss. The offering is accepted, and the goats run to lap up our pee. We beat it past 'em on the uphill side and scurry down the ledges to our packs.

Darkness Half a bottle of water at the packs doesn't satisfy. At Snow Creek I fill a bottle while Steve scootches the log.

Down the dark trail we travel in the headlamp bubble. Concentrate on avoiding the rocks and windfalls as they enter and leave our ten foot radius of vision. Feel the temperature change. Wonder how many minutes it's been since I filled that bottle. The iodine pill's supposed to take a half hour.

In the dark creek valley the air is still and gets hotter as we descend. Steve asks about the water. Fifteen minutes. As the switchbacks leave the Snow Creek valley and head out onto the open clearcuts high above Icicle Creek, we start to feel the blustery cool wind blowing down the larger valley. I check my watch at a hairpin, thirty-five minutes.

Sitting, resting, headlamps off. In the dark I can sense the vastness out where the Icicle probably is. It feels good, sitting, facing into the refreshing cold wind. The water goes down easy, but 20 oz doesn't go too far. "Nine more would be nice", remarks Steve drily.
 

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photo by Steve Prager