North Country (ii): A day once conceived as a “leisurely hike to the base of the glacier,” a chance to tool around before heading into town for lunch where we, as American tourists, would most certainly tool around some more. But it was realized we had both time and sandwiches aplenty, and so our realization gave way to realising (as the northern folk say) this goal of ours, a noble goal if you’re into that kind of thing, a stupid goal if you’re not into climbing mountains. But with the group split and the dog unable to voice its opinion (though I imagine dogs to have the most zealous alpine ambitions) four of us pressed on, up the hanging glacier into a chimney filled with shitty things, most of them choss, though perhaps human excrement too, you’d have to ask David. This story rambles, but so did the route, life too, if we’re being philosophical. But that’s the idea, to climb an aesthetic line, not the easiest, to string words into song, more complex than just words on paper, more rewarding too.
TLDR: We climbed, ate sandwiches, Dave nearly pooped himself. Fin.