The infernal chill from our nights camping at Lobuche has finally found its way to Utah and crept through the cracks in my windows last night to numb my toes. I thought that the bitter cold at 16,000 feet in the late autumn of the Khumbu was miserable, but at least I had a remarkably warm microfiber sleeping bag and the most miraculous moon jacket. Just as soon as I squoze into that puffy, extreme cold weather coat it would buffer the frigid sting of breeze. To be honest, once I was bundled up in that ingenious insulation I had hardly a concern on my mind. Now I can appreciate that because the heater in my apartment just couldn’t keep up with the cold last night. My blankets couldn’t capture enough warmth and even with an extra electric heater blowing right at my face I just could not break the shivers. The temperature at Lobuche must have been somewhere between zero and not much, and at the time I thought it was the depth of discomfort. Now I look back longingly to the perfectly cozy nights I spend zipped up and Velcroed in to my mummy bag sleeping on the lumpy ground listening to a roaming pack of yak bells.