We climb a difficult rock tower along the summit ridge thinking it is the true summit. From atop the tower we see the real summit beyond, another hour away. Well, Jim, I guess we're rappelling all night. We are going to the top of this Patagonian pile of choss. Neither one of us wants to swallow another near miss, even though it means going back to get the second rope and the hardware - forty minutes of wasted time in the face of impending doom.
Clouds tear all around.
To the southwest black clouds are swallowing entire mountain ranges. With the extra equipment, we fix a rope and rappel onto an icy shelf in the cleft between the rock tower and the real summit. The second rope secures our ascent to the summit. An hour of scrambling over ice and snow covered rocks later, and I'm belaying on a ledge a few meters below the top. Your summit, Jim.