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TWO IMPOSING mountains flanked either side of our small group, commanding our attention. Craning our necks this way and that like tennis spectators, eyeing two dramas in the distance, we stood at 11,600 feet outside the small hut where we’d be bunking for the night. On the rock wall to our right, two local legends, visible as a tiny red dot and a black dot, were inching up the sheer north face of the Middle Teton, pioneering a new climbing route. On the peak to the left, the Grand Teton, two stranded climbers, appearing as even tinier yellow dots, perched high on their climbing route, shrieking over the wind for…