"No," Karen replies with a shake of her head, and then pulls down her ear muffs so that she can push back all the stray bits of blonde hair that had been whipped free by the wind. "I wasn't close enough to see over, but I touched it. I felt the edge of it with my fingers." And then, of course, she'd lost her footing, making all of this sound way more anticlimactic than it had felt a moment ago.

"I thought I had a good foothold, but I guess not," she admitts, a layer of guilt sliding over what's already beginning to become a palpable sense of frustration with her own haste.

It was good, though. It was progress. She's got to remember that.

"We can come back, bring better tools?" she suggests, as if it's even a question.