"Up," I said, "We'll camp here for the night then head up the Tusk first thing in the morning."
"Us too!" The same bloke replied. "There's room in our shelter if you want to sleep here. We can share."
Looking at the plume of mixed cigar and marijuana smoke billowing from their cabin, we decided to press on. We found shelter #3 fully occupied and dreary. #2, with the four Quebecois, would work just fine.
"Should we set an alarm?" I asked Laura after ramen and hot chocolate. To see the full trip report you must login as a paid member. Use the Login Page. (message p3)
A quick shake of her head confirmed my thoughts exactly. We would sleep to our hearts content, let the university crew break trail, and dance up the mountain with ease. During the night I had a strangely awesome dream that I somehow, someway became friends with Chris Cornell. What this equated to the next day was that Soundgarden and Audioslave were coursing through my veins as we brewed coffee and oats, donned our crampons and took to the firm morning snow. Passing the boys' cabin all was silent. Perfect. But when we crossed the bridge at the lake outlet there wasn't a single track to be seen. Dammit. We'd been had! It was now upon us to lead the way. I had no intentions of wasting time trying to find the actual trail so I simply straight-lined through the trees in the direction of the Tusk. Entering the meadows, we continued our straight trajectory towards Black Tusk S1. A...
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