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Black Rapids Bivy
There I was, mind you, and it was desperate indeed, albeit as usual. It was in the dark of night, in the dead of winter, in the heart of the Alaska Range, the mountains towering above, and the storm raged. I was lost amid gaping crevasses somewhere on the Black Rapids Glacier. The ball of rime-ice having frozen my moustache to my beard, and to my parka zipper as well, had kept me from eating or drinking. Hunger gnawed at my vitals, and dehydration toyed with my clouded thoughts. I was drawn forward with hope from thin wisps of clear sky streaking through the clouds to show me a few stars now and again. Once, I saw a corner of the moon. Talons of piercing wind clawed at my tattered parka surviving not well with its old duct tape patches. I struggled on....
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