We, however, were going to go straight up the middle. Bishop led the route as I belayed him, fixing ice screws for protection as he went. Carefully he scanned the ice for just the right pocket to sink his tool into, visually measuring the strength of his target. Then with one swift snap of the wrist he had reached up a few feet higher and dug in the toes of his crampons, climbing slightly farther. Again and again, he searched, measured and swung.
Technique is better than power.
With each swing came a few steps up with his crampons until he was comfortably resting, secured by one tool and his feet, always looking for the next contact point. At the top he placed two larger screws and rappelled down to meet me. I tied into my harness and readied my axes. Now it was my turn. At first it seemed awkward to not actually be touching the ice.