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And Then We Were Twelve
Barry Blanchard
[Illustration] Andreas Schmidt
STREAMERS OF CIRRUS CLOUD picketed the sky like a fence made of bones. I worried that by day s end the dark underbellies of storm clouds might sink onto the summit of Yexyexescen (Mt. Robson). By tomorrow, the sharp contrast of black rock and white ice could vanish under new snowfall, and a murky smoke of clouds could dull the midday summer air. For now, the sun still shone, and Troy Kirwan and I were working hard to shepherd our three clients Todd, Doug and Larry over the ridgeline that connected Resplendent Mountain to Yexyexescen. At 10,100 feet, they had big smiles and big packs. It was Tuesday, August 21, 1990, and we were two days and seventeen miles out from the trailhead. Rust- and slate-colored rock ground under our crampons. The Robson Glacier flowed northeast like a massive boulevard riven by crevasses. To the southwest, an unnamed creek glinted 5,