This is no longer fall conditions. The wind is picking up and time for the last train is growing close. As the pitch nears 60 degrees I grab a boulder and try to pull it together. Boss is much faster and is 150 yards above. I look down and feel good about how far we've come.
Nothing looks close now.
Just hard wind playing with snow, gliding across shimmering ice in a big bowl. This being a north facing wall the sun hasn't had a chance to make ice on the last 150 yards and loose stone is mostly behind us. Though much more vertical, it's dry with great hand-holds and sound reasoning returns. Each new purchase brings a broadening smile to my face and the howling wind at the top summons a howl of my own. Lightly clad tourists step off the train at the summit, only to spin and get back on.