Dana had the first, and shorter pitch.  He made tidy work of it, but
took his time, as he hadn't climbed in four months, and was, perhaps,
having an *interesting* time of getting his head back into the leading
game given the, how shall I put it, sub-optimal conditions.

I followed Dana in my full snow-man wrappings.  Then it's my turn to
lead the second pitch.  A few words of explanation.

I am a summer-babe.  On days when everyone says it's too hot to climb,
I strip down to my shorts, tie a sweat rag around my head and am good
to go.  In short, I am a cold-hating woosy.  Keep that in mind as you
envision me now, wrapped in so many layers that I was barely able to
bend arms or legs, and looking down, which required bending at the
waist, was right out.  I was wearing two pairs of gloves, and my
biggest fattest pair of hiking boots.  Somehow I managed to thrutch my
way up to the top in pretty good form, put Dana on belay and... And...

Nothing.

Due to the wind, and the overhangs between he and I, I wasn't convinced
he could hear me.  I hollered as loud as I could, and eventually I felt
movement.  The movements were halting and hesitant, though.  I sat back
and enjoyed the view from the top, watching the bands of snow move
accross the landscape, enjoying myself thoroughly, while vaguely
wondering what might be happening below.  Little did I know.

Dana's heebie-jeebies had not confined themselves (as good
heebie-jeebies should) to haunting him during his lead.  If anything,
they got more severe as he followed the second pitch.  No surprise,
really, as he lost all feeling in his hands, and due to the traversing
nature of the climb, a fall would have been rather unpleasant.  Had he
fallen, things might have been a bit tricky.  Between the wind and the
overhangs, it would have been difficult to know what was happening.  No
surprise he was a little concerned!  Good man, though, he eventually
clawed his way to the top, bloody but unbowed, having neither fallen
nor weighted any gear on the way.

But our long absence worried the rest of the crew.  Just as we'd gotten
the rope coiled and were beginning the walk-off, Steven showed up to
insure our non-deadness.  Non-deadness confirmed, we merrily hiked down
the Uberfall, and the fun continued!

GO