- [x] Set timer for 20 minutes - [x] Start writing # Reflection on the Cold Where did I first notice I was getting cold? The whipping wind was too warm to blow snow, but in winter it held beyond every bit of heat from my body. Endurance has no match for the intensity of that wind. Walking into the wind felt impossible, but walking away took me further from my car, the incline, and our safety. We moved slower than 3 feet per second, hugging a ledge of slow-moving air to hide behind, to hunch behind, to gather and communicate behind. Tearing apart and losing Ethan and Lucy, they went west, but it looked to me like they were floundering, wanting to keep moving forward. We had just created Adams, and now torn it toward the cliff between that northwestern presidential and Mount Madison. Between the two lies a cabin. Do we stay above treeline and keep heading to Madison? Isn't it worse? Do we stay put, trying to figure things out? That was Ethan who made the decision: we should just turn back. We’re already cold and wet, and it will only get worse if we stay out. What had made me most unsure was Lucy’s lack of plan? Her bias? Lack of self-awareness? The misdirection of being so used to just pushing and foot-first momentum? How it lures you into thinking what you are doing is right? By the time we got below and out of the wind, 20–30 minutes of "air conditioning" funneled fire first into the soaking furnace. None of us were able to unzip our coats. Our fingers had lost the required dexterity. Ethan tore our zippers, bodies too drained of energy to argue. Ethan’s work was helpful and sustaining; our body warmth was enough, in dayglow. We put, as we do, soggy bakery colors and immediate relief came. We were on the next day and warm, heading back to the car. The mountains will be there tomorrow, and so will we.