Several times we walked over to the rocks above Anaconda Gully to see if we could pick Bruce and Em out from the myriad folks on the mountain that weekend (though it must be said that we were one of perhaps only three or four climbing parties on our route that weekend - no one was on the route our first day and we spent that first night completely alone in Hidden Valley). Finally Jeff K. shouted from Peak 9487 that he had spotted Em and Bruce down in Hidden Valley, 200 feet below. They had taken a "less creative" [read: correct] route into the bowl below us. We packed up the rest of our gear and made our way down as Bruce cried up to us, "Hurry up! The beer's getting warm!"

Once I got down to the bowl in Hidden Valley I felt much better, seeing Em again and meeting Bruce. And, oddly enough, the weather began to clear a bit. Bruce handed out some beer, which Jeff K. and I sheepishly stashed with our snowshoes at a cache rock in the valley, while Jeff H. - the younger - stuffed his in his pack. He would later quaff at an elevation of 10,400 feet, and the effect was truly mystifying. Or something like that.