and five miles left up the Boundary Glacier, over One Shot Pass, past our cache, up Head Shot Pass with all its craggy projectiles and down to Tundra Camp, where Sam will pick us up in the Suburban. Much of the expedition has been a suffer-fest. My right knee – hinging on a six-month-fresh ACL – aches with large steps, and my left is constantly sore from overcompensating. Both my thumbs have split at the tips and bleed periodically, and my left ring finger has only just stopped dribbling puss. And, for over
two weeks now, I’ve been pining for a vat of Ben and Jerry’s. “Jack Daniel’s Hot Sauce,” says Charlie just behind me. In the first week, Charlie, the adorable 18-year-old Brit, had well established himself as a You Tube connoisseur, sporadically quoting from several viral videos – “Epic Meal Time” among his most popular. “Oh Charlieee,” croons Andrew in his Polish accent. The two of us, having shared a tent with
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