The last pitch was the icing on the cake. A quick lower into a gully. Climb a stack of blocks out the other side. From atop the blocks, a move or two, up a face of un-mortared bricks, leads to a chimney behind the cornice. My pack was left on a peg below.
Crampons shriek on rock, but are welcome in snow.
At last I roll onto the top. A stiff wind greeted me on top. Communication with Tim below the cornice was impossible. In those cases, the rope gets pulled on until a head comes into view. Tim struggled with my pack and how to get it through the cornice.