I was just short of the summit, battling winds so fierce they had us on our hands and knees more than once during the bootpack. At one point even, I glanced back to see Everett sprawled out on his back.
I took the final steps to the top, only to drop to a knee again as the wind ripped across the summit. Desperate for shelter, I spotted a small wind lip and lunged for it. I vaulted over and collapsed onto the ground, resting my head against the snow. The horizon tilted wildly before me as I took in a few breaths—each one deafening inside my spacesuit. After four relentless hours in the wind, this brief reprieve felt like a gift.
I rolled onto one knee and peered over the edge just as JT crested the summit. I waved him over, and he fought his way to the wind lip, dropping in beside me to catch his breath. A minute later, Logan came into view, struggling against the gale. I signaled for him to join us, and soon all three of us huddled together, momentarily sheltered from the fury above.
Then I peered over again , and saw Everett. Kneeling in the snow, one fist driven into the ice, head bowed against the wind. I waved him over, but he barely moved. Instead, he shook his head and lifted a single finger as if to say, one minute. He was holding on—literally—for dear life.
I turned back, waiting. Eventually, he clawed his way to us, and we all laid low behind the lip, out of sight of the storm.
We were perched on a remote summit, hidden in a trench, deep in a forgotten corner of Glacier National Park. The last rays of sun painted the sky blood red. From our position we could see damn near every peak in the park, Below us, 2,000 meters of descent stood between us and camp.
A moment I won’t forget with the boys.
@logweeze
@j.pelhammer
@everettcraig_ 
