In early March 1997, Evelyn and I took a week-long winter mountaineering course in the eastern Sierra, in the area around Bishop and Mammoth. We took the course in preparation for climbing Mt McKinley, which is our biggest challenge in our quest to climb the highest point in all the states.

I wouldn't say we enjoyed the course, but it was an interesting and worthwhile experience. It was quite strenuous, and Evelyn was in hell (Dante's version, where the center is extremely cold) for a couple of the days, but we learned a lot and did have some fun.

The first day we learned ice climbing, which you can see Evelyn doing in the picture. You find a cliff that's covered with ice, put sharp, pointed, metal crampons on your boots, grab two ice axes, and start hacking handholds and footholds into the ice. We climbed in a narrow canyon where the wind was occasionally fierce and was blowing snow down from the top of the ridge. As we climbed, the snow gradually started to cover our packs at the bottom of the wall, freezing our lunch food. I'm sure this sounds unpleasant, but actually, Evelyn loved ice climbing. Apparently she has some unresolved aggression that finds a satisfying outlet in attacking the ice. Plus, we got to go back to the hotel at the end of the day for a hot shower and a nice dinner. The second day we went rock climbing. We climbed a pointed peak called Cardinal Spire. It was a five pitch climb, which means that you climb up to a ledge part way up the spire, then reset the ropes and start climbing from there, and repeat this process for five rope lengths. I kind of enjoyed the climb---I'd never done a multiple pitch climb before---but Evelyn was truly unhappy on this day. She hated rock climbing and could feel her strength waning as we neared the top, but there was no way she could get back down without first climbing to the top. She actually did very well, but she hated every minute of it. To add injury to insult, after we'd rappelled down the back side and started walking back to the cars, Evelyn slipped on the snow and slid down into a pile of rocks. She wasn't seriously hurt, but it was emblematic of how the day went for her.

On the plus side, though, we had great weather that day, as we would for the rest of the days of the course. Clear skies, no wind, and all of us baking in our winter mountaineering garb. Plus, we got to go back to the hotel again.

On the third day, we learned about traveling across steep snow (a lesson that would have come in handy for Evelyn the previous day), about rescuing people who have fallen into crevasses, and did some more ice climbing. This day was much easier and more enjoyable that the previous one, and Evelyn loves her ice climbing. By the end of the day, Evelyn was positively playful, laughing at the other guys in our group when they fell on their faces in the snow.

The fourth day was when we started our three-day, two-night backcountry excursion. We started out along a cross-country ski/snowmobile trail. I was carrying a fairly heavy pack and Evelyn was carrying a smaller pack, plus dragging behind her a sled with 50 pounds of stuff on it. We wore snowshoes. It was slow going, all uphill, and the rest of our group started to leave us behind. After lunch, we learned how to find people who have been buried in an avalanche. Just before we started going again for the afternoon, Evelyn slipped off into the woods and found that her worst nightmare had come true: she had started her period. Visions flashed through her head about trying to find private spots to go to the bathroom and change her tampons, and about horrible cramps as we're hiking up a steep mountain. Late in the afternoon, I caught up to our guide and asked him if we couldn't please stop about a mile short of our original destination so that we'd be camping close to the toilet at the final cross-country skiing campground. He reluctantly agreed, even though it meant two more miles we'd have to cover the next day. The next day, he said, would be a 10 to 12 hour attempt on the summit of Mt Morgan, during which we would use all the skills we'd learned the previous days. Evelyn immediately said that she wouldn't be going; she'd wait for us at the campsite, close to the bathroom and away from the strenuous activity.

That night it got down to 0 degrees or so, Fahrenheit. Cold. Really cold. We were in our nice down sleeping bags, wearing our new and expensive winter mountaineering clothes, in our four-season tent, and we still couldn't get our feet warm. It was a restless night. At 2:30 or so in the morning, we came to a couple of decisions: (a) when the rest of the group left for Mt Morgan in the morning, we'd head in the opposite direction—back to the car, and (b) climbing Mt McKinley was out of the question.

So, on Friday, the fifth day of the six day course, we bailed out. While the rest of our party struggled up Mt Morgan, with nothing but cold tents and freeze-dried food to look forward to, Evelyn and I had a pleasant hike *down* a cross-country ski trail, then drove to Reno for a hotel room and a nice Italian dinner.