It was a frigid morning. Hiking up and out of the river canyon where we had camped was foot-numbing and icy, the trail snowbound without a break. We followed a lone set of footprints which had glazed over with ice overnight to help stay on the trail. Coming into the sunlight out on the highland basin above, we still weren't able to shake the chill. Even as our bodies heated up and we sweated like a couple of furnaces, the feet stayed frozen.
Pinchot Pass was visible before long but we trudged on towards that gap for well over three hours before finally making the summit. It was a difficult morning. This is how it will be then. The snow was drifted and cruster over. The switchbacks were steep and uneven -- very rocky and frustrating to get over.
Eliza sobbed over frozen toesies at the pass and I cupped them with my hands and blew whatever warm breath I could muster out onto her feet. We saddled up quickly and descended down the other side. More tundra awaited.
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