Had a close encounter with number 92 today while Gavin and I were out questing for mud.
I was leading and then belaying Gavin up the route and I could hear some commotion from above.
It was a flapping sound again.
It wasn't windy though - in fact it was one of the foggiest days I have ever seen - or more appropriately haven't seen.
When we got back up to the main summit, number 92 was up there and had been trying his best to rummage through our packs.
He threw my bolt bag a few feet, knocked Gavin's water bottle from his pack, rolled my pack a few feet from where I left it and took a couple chunks out of Gavin's pack. Luckily we had put almost everything in our packs and zipped them up.
Good thing Brad's pack wasn't up there - there would have been nothing left but a few patches and some mounds of thread
