The next few pitches relaxed a little, a mix of grade 3 and 4 meant for a nice respite and some faster movement, we were even able to climb together for a few sections. The final pitches moved through more complex ground, shattered rock under deep ice (the quality of which had lessened so the screws didn't feel as stable). We were driving for the top, night time was closing in, the route felt never ending at times, but I knew now we were going to make it. The thought of the summit spurred me on until finally the gound started to level out. I whooped to Graeme in his sitting belay, raised a fist, I felt so happy, I went over and shook his hand, thanked him, it was an awesome moment.

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