We must be skiing under some kind of Chinese charm, because when Dongsheng said during our first break, 'the only thing that might make today better would be if the snow was a little harder.' We had been skiing through the soft snow for three hours and it was definitely tiring.

And then, as Bill steered toward 128=B0 the soft snow slowly transformed into wind blown hard pack. Billl and I silently thanked Dongsheng's lucky ginseng.

The expedition has settled into us now and we have to work for every step. Yet, we still manage to find pleasure in small things. 'The light was beautiful today,' noticed Bill. I spent my entire lunch break memorizing the lines of the Thiels behind us. The eastern most peaks looked two ears and the head of a dog I know named Oli. The middle series of three peaks knifed skyward with a fourth butressing the center peak. The westerly peaks were simply a saddle.

The subtle white incline that we had spotted from over 10 miles away, grew into a weird mish mash of rolling slopes, crevasses to the west, blue ice and climbing. Our morning luck wore thin as winds increased and temperatures dropped.

After a little extra searching, we found a somewhat level piece of snow and tiredly set up camp. Another day.

Each of us spends most of our days deep in our own thoughts and imaginations. We talk of other people and places, but know that our primary job is to be here and skiing. It takes extra work to conjure life other than what we are doing now.

'What's it like going back to 'life' after a big trip like this?' Bill asked before we left. 'Honestly?' I responded. 'It's just weird not to wake up in a tent.'

Image: Eric navigating away from the Thiels.

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