The trip started very normally for me and seemed so promising: a Friday night walk in to Carrington hut with the last of the southerly showers greying out the tops intermittently. While I don’t like to see Canada geese fouling our backcountry areas, I could not help but admire a beautiful nest Liz almost tripped over in a shallow scrape in the river gravels. Five large speckled brownish eggs were encircled by an exquisite fluffy ring of white down feathers, then an outer border of twigs. How does that all stay in place when the nor’wester blows? Our torches were needed for the last section of travel as darkness overtook us.

Morning dawned clear and calm and we were soon around the corner and heading up the White. About an hour in, to my dismay, my energy was running very low and despite the flat, easy riverbed travel and perfect weather, I was struggling. It was not long before I needed to confess to the others and ask for support, a very humbling and unfamiliar experience for me. I have always been on the other end of that dynamic. It turns out that a gastro upset form the previous week was making a comeback and totally zeroing my energy. Anyway, as with many challenges in my life, I now bless the episode for the learning and connectedness to others it brought. My companions were so supportive and understanding, carrying some of my load, waiting lots, not looking too uncomfortable when I needed to cry with frustration at the top of a steep incline, and most importantly speaking up. It was maybe soon after the tears when one of them gently mentioned my pack was about twice as heavy as Liz’s. The “pack-weight police” had been secretly patrolling at Carrington Hut that morning!! Though rather embarrassed about this new information, given the longevity of my tramping and climbing experience, I decided to get curious and ask the police lots of questions about what was in their packs.