Me leading pitch 16 to Boot Flake

As I clipped my way up the bolt ladder, Aaron chatted with his parents over the radio, filling them in on what little had happened since they had left us the previous night. Aaron's mother, in particular, asked the usual motherly sorts of questions, and Aaron was able to answer them all positively: we had slept well, we had eaten a good dinner and breakfast, his toe was slightly infected but not getting worse, and we generally felt good and in high spirits. His dad took this picture of me through the telescope.

Once I reached the thin crack just below the heel of the boot, I slowly made my way up it on very thin gear, including at least one cam hook. As I've said before, there's nothing like standing on a hook first thing in the morning to get your day started right. When I reached the heel of the boot, I started crack-jugging my way up the right side of it, using mostly medium to large cams, with an occasional free move here and there. In retrospect, I think much of this would have been a nice hand crack, and I wish I had freed more of it. But it was first thing in the morning, and I was wearing my guide tennies and a huge rack, so I just wasn't in the mood.