My stories have mostly been told here, so likely this is a repeat, can't remember.
Trapped by steep terrain at the foot of a cliff in the little melted out gap between glacier ice below and rock wall going up. Goat hunting, I'd climbed a quarter mile up a long steep snowfield as a shortcut to the top that looked passable from below. The old corn snow was soft enough to kick steps in it at first but toward the top it got steeper and hardened toward bluish ice. I cut left for better going but that put me above a sheer drop off cliff and by then I knew that I could not go down without falling. My only hope was up and that way ended against the rock wall cliff, about 40 feet below the top of the ridge. I was relieved to still be alive, but knew that no one would begin to look for me until after sundown the next day.
After sitting for a good while I used a knuckle buster Knap Sport saw to chip footholds up a steep ice ramp that ran up a nearby chute in the cliff face. I determined never to climb beyond my ability to go back down- and never have since.
