The final stretch of our climb to the top of California's historic snowpack was so steep only the front points of our crampons were in contact with the mountain.Beneath our heels was nothing but air.A fall from there, just below the 14,505-foot summit of Mt.Whitney, could have been fatal.A quick glance over my shoulder showed a tiny patch of baby blue - the first sign of melting - on an icy lake 2,000 feet below.
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