I looked down. The rope fell vertically and endlessly down between my legs through 10 ice screws and carabiners. I could just make out James' face looking up. I suspected I had very little rope left and the friction on the iced up rope was making every movement a huge effort. I knew I had to find a stance and quick.
Fear lends wings to the righteous.
With calves screaming, hands like iron claws and feet of stone from retreating circulation I pulled over an icy overhang on to a heaven sent ledge with an angel in the corner. The angel was a small spindrift avalanche, gently floating down past the ledge. I realized my mouth was as dry as the Gobi desert, partly from dehydration and partly from fear. The only way to kill the pain from these hot aches is to stick your hands in snow. The angle eased off but the snow got deeper and deeper and heavier.