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A too-tight crampon strap and a last minute (bad, bad) decision to ditch my overboots left a memorable impression for years to come. The temperature down in Challis was around -20 so we guessed it was maybe -35 on the north face of Mt Borah that night. My indication of how cold it was came when I spit and it froze in mid-air and bounced off the ice like a rubber ball. I tried to repeat it but was way too dehydrated to muster up a repeat performance.