Their breath crystallized inside the tent and every time the wind rattled the walls tiny frozen shards drifted down over their sleeping bags.
But it was the sound of the breakfast cooks clanking pots and cracking jokes that woke them up. The smell of wood smoke and the crackling of bacon drifted across the camp site as they stood around the fire with steaming cups of coffee.
For the first time all weekend the sun broke through the clouds, above the pine trees across the lake, and they turned as one to let the soft warm light play on their faces.