Curtis Jones

Day 9: Camp 3 to Camp 4, hauling packs heavier than we hoped. An AAI group calls our casual pace sprinting, and Wes races a German duo for the last camp site. I call that pulling a Mike. Then Mike himself walks by.

Day 8: A cache up to 13,500 feet, no sleds, crampons on at last with snowshoes behind us. A climber from Iceland, lugging a 45kg pack alone for his two man team, shows off the Airforce Lift, an impressive full-body roll to stand up. Five and a half hours round trip, then a not-quite-gumbo.

Day 7: A quick back carry from 10,000 just in time, since we were nearly out of snacks. Pukilicious moved up to 14k; she is so going to die. And in a fit of troubleshooting, I hit the logout button on the spot messenger and locked myself out for good.

Day 6: Friday the Thirteenth, Camp 1 to Camp 3, passing a guided team doing a single carry the whole way (their guide is insane) and ski teams that stop dead in the trail for no reason. Pukilicious and her team wisely stopped short at 10,800. No active puking, at least.

Day 5: A cache at 10,000 feet alongside Pierre and another Frenchman, with This American Life making the time pass. A German woman starts puking at altitude, never a good sign. We're weighing whether to push to Camp 3 or play it safe and stop at 10k.