At this point we are sick of the snow. Really sick. We keep convincing ourselves that around the bend the trail drops out of the snow forever, only to be sorely disappointed again and again. Our feet look like they’ve been soaking in the bath for two weeks straight.

In the morning we get lost, which accounts for the small section of dry trail we find. Back on the trail, and the snow, we push determinedly north. We sleep among the drifts when the sun goes down.