But we have it good compared with Sneath and his crew, who are out there in the storm, walking with sticks to gauge snow-drift depth before we forge ahead, 25 meters at a time. And we're all getting stuck, slowing us down even more as we stop frequently to hook up tow ropes and snatch each other out. A few hours later, the sun sets, and all any of us can see is what's lit up by the headlights. And that's all white. Pass the cookbook, please.

It's nearly 2 a.m., after 18 hours of creeping along, digging each other out, tip-toeing down icy grades, refueling with jerry cans, and just sitting still while we all figure out what to do next, when we finally make it back to the main road--a testament to the super-capable LR3 and to Sneath's tenacious team.

Our dinner is hot soup. Vegetarian, thankfully.