Around 1:00 am the tempest struck. Winds gusting to 45 mph tore at our rain fly, bending the aluminum tent poles until they touched our sleeping bagged bodies. For over two hours gust after gust tried every method of dislodging us from this 3700 ft saddle in the Tonto National Forest.
Then around 3:00 am the winds died and we drifted to sleep. It was a short respite. At 4:30 am the blow resumed and succeeded in pulling one vestibule stake. The rope was beginning to fray. Gina called out that she was frightened and was going to make a run for it. We jammed all of our wet gear and tent into our backpacks and at 7:17 set off in the howling wind. The storm varied in rain and wind intensity depending on slope direction, but continued for hours.
Soaked and tired, Deb struggled with unusable hands. Gina dug out a set of hand warmers and slowly through the pain, function returned. At a quick pace we moved down toward the valley floor on muddy trails. Pods of wide-eyed bovines witnessed our progress and marveled, calling to one another.
Clouds lightened, rain turned to mist, and there was a hint of sun when we reached Picket Post Trailhead at 1:17 after 11.5 miles of misery.
Mountain Peace 
I’m amazed after reading your posts that you are still moving at all. It sounds so cold and painful! From my end, sitting at my kitchen table, I am thoroughly enjoying your trip 😉 You are sempervirens! Woutje
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