The previous night we had gotten high winds and a bit of rain through the night. It was odd, because the forecast was for almost completely clear weather for the whole of the trip, with the possibility of a small front coming through on Sunday (though it's a moot point because a 14,162-foot mountain is going to make its own weather whether you like it or not). Odder still was the fact that we'd yet to see Bruce and Em. I had, the night before, set out a series of wands leading into camp in the event that they showed up. We had taken a sort of "creative" way in to the route and were in a bit of an "unconventional" camp site above Hidden Valley (okay, none of us had done the route before and we took a beeline up a gully to the right of the route and, once we arrived at the plateau, we found we didn't have the, um, desire(?) to descend the slope in front of us to get down to the bowl below). So we spread out around camp, looking down from various perches for them. We had decided, due to what appeared to be a front coming through, that we would wait it out until we found our final two partners and make the call whether to proceed up the mountain or stay at the Valley another night.