The Grepon's south face still has a lot of room to wander around at this stage in the game, but looking up I can see the spire narrow above me. Gingerly, I test the pitons. They don't wiggle under my fingers, so I clip them and add a few pieces to beef up the stance. I drink in the view while I belay up my partner. Beneath my feet, past a thousand feet of granite cliff and eroded talus, Sky Pond is a small blue spot.
Britt arrives at the stance, racks up, and begins the next lead.
But he moves upward easily, so I return to my contemplation of the view until it's time for me to follow. Watching the Clock Seconding the 5.8 crux pitch reminds me again of the differences between alpine cragging and garden-variety climbing. Though technically it's well within my ability, the combination of the heavy pack on my back, the thin air, and the empty space between me and the nearest horizontal surface all conspire to make me sweat. I make another bid for sympathy. A big ledge on the southeast corner of the Petit Grepon provides a convenient lunch spot.