Soft gray clouds blanketed the sky. Spits of rain flecked the tent. Across the valley, the clouds flowed in shades of orange to welcome the rising sun.
We met Ridge runner and K2 early in the day, the only hikers we would see all day.
Although the storm threatened all day, it never materialized. Trees swayed in the wind, squeaking like rusty, old swings on a playground. Piles of dark clouds gathered, but moved on.
We followed the ridge line for most of the day. We climbed above most of the trees. The steep grassy hillside fell away quickly on one side, with rocky cliffs on the other.
The sun lit the hills with a final burst of color before slipping behind the mountains. Still we hadn't found camp. The few trees on the ridge were shorter than me, providing scant protection from the wind and no bear hanging opportunities. We finally nestled the tent between two scruffy pines, climbing down the steep, rocky hillside to hang our food.
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