At this point, Greg and I both had our doubts about David’s ability to continue. We were thinking he must be miserable; he may be contemplating bailing out. We’d soon find out David was thinking the same.
“Hey man, how you doing?” I asked as we shouldered burdensome packs to continue our trudge through the landscape.
“Well, there’s this,” he replied, holding one of his snowshoes in both hands, flexing the plastic hard and folding the shovel of the snowshoe back toward the binding. Rendering it barely useful.
Greg quickly chimed in with his typical dry sarcasm, “Interesting! Well at least it’s not slowing you down!”
David forced a laugh and strapped his shoes back on. “You guys go ahead. If the crossing at Big Wilson Stream isn’t easy, wait for me there, otherwise head on up to the lean-to.”