It wasn't my fault this time. We weren't going to predict this one. But this knowledge didn't help the sting of disappointment we felt, and it certainly didn't help us figure out what to do now. I sat on the floor of the log cabin known as the Jenny Lake Ranger Station, and leaned up against the wall. I stared ahead, thinking. Occasionally my eyes would glance to the right and stare down the conditions board. "Owen-Spalding: Icy, crampons recommended for descent. Full alpine conditions". I wasn't in the mood to slip on
verglas and fall off the Grand Teton. My crampons were more than 200 miles away. We were just not prepared.
Jason broke my trance: "Don't you really need to pee?"
I had forgotten. I stood up and we walked out of the ranger station. I intentionally left my backcountry permit on the desk.