Night 6, The gap

between Skolai Creek and Nizina Glacier. 

Where a dipper lives, flitting down this brand-new waterway, and where I fell into the creek when a snow bridge collapsed. We were moving through the new canyon cut by Skolai Creek, skiing over ledges above the open water. Some of the ledges were the width of two skis. I was moving across one and—splash—I was in the foot-deep water on my side with skis and pack on. Forest was nearby, having led us through the canyon. He saw me in the water and told me to keep my hand on the bottom, and most of my body out of the water. I did, aware that my camera in my right pocket was under cold water, and that I didn't have a clue how to get up with my skis and pack on.

"I'm going to pick you up now," Forest said, after which he grabbed me by the pack and I was back on my feet. I climbed back on a snow bridge and dripped off for a bit, pulling out my wet camera and noticing I'd lost my Swiss Army knife, one that had been with me since before the Alaska days.

The boys found a camp right past the canyon and next to the wall of Nizina Glacier. Mike set up the tent, and I jumped in and got in my sleeping bag in my wet clothes. Mike did everything from there, making me hot water for dinner. It's good to have partners in this race. 

This is the last photo of thousands I have taken with my old Nikon Coolpix. We're headed through the canyon at dusk, me just about to get wet.  

As for the rest of an extraordinary day, Forest led us through the Golden Horn gully, the deep cut under that amazing rock formation, and a few other trenches. He, the only one with crampons, kicked steps for Mike and I a few times. We took our time. 

Mike found a great path down to Skolai Creek itself. Usually, this a a hellish bust through alders and prickly bushes. Mike zig-zagged us right down to the creek after we crossed the Horn. We made it on skis with skins!

A great image up there today—a family of goats, BELOW us. They noticed us and walked straight up to the Golden Horn.

Now, in my moist but warm bag, I inventory my Classic Beatup: Frostbite on my pinkie, my rib hurts from something I hit on the fall to the water, and a blister on my left instep the size of a silver dollar. Still, doing well in godly country, looking forward to the beauty tomorrow (our last day?).