Hoped to make it 11, but had to turn back due to ice. By the time I got back down to the bottom of the ridge my feet were screaming in pain and my head was full of ideas. There were some places where I stumbled on the trail, one scramble over a down tree that almost sent me off the side of the mountain. My hands grabbed the trunk, snap like a mousetrap, bent back my thumbnail on the bark, fingers sticking to my trekking poles from the pitch. My hands smelled fresh and green the whole rest of the day. It's time for new hiking boots. The soles are coming right off the old ones. They'll stick in the mud somewhere and I'll walk on without them.
I feel a lot better.
I am going to kick a hole in the sky.