Other than acclimatizing by smoking beedie cigarettes with our porters, my main occupation during the approach hike to basecamp was restraining Mr. Sharratt from breaking his ankles on the many appealing bouldering problems we passed along the way. (Recall that the goal of expeditioning is to get to basecamp in good health.)  Dave’s nickname is “the Monster”, and for good reason: the guy craves hard rock climbing the way the rest of us need beer and oxygen to survive.  On the map the British had made of the approach, one spot about a day below basecamp was clearly labeled “massive blocks”. Dave was first out of camp that morning, racing up valley towards the mysterious boulders.  By mid-afternoon we had reached the blocks – an impressive boulder field that tumbled across a well grazed flat field from a hillside to the east. Dave ran around like a kid in a candy store, while I issued strong warnings not screw up the whole trip with a twisted ankle. So, I did my best to protect him by providing a spot.