In reply to spearing05:
Right Twin was one of my early climbs, and was nearly my last! -
My more experienced partner was happy to push on for the cornice, despite heavy powder and no gear whatsoever. I was at the last belay, with a couple of equalised axes, a Rock 7, and an in-situ peg, so a pretty good anchor.
He pressed on up, with me whimpering that I thought we should back off, as the snow was loose as heck, and we had already backed off Temperance Union Blues. Thing was, I think that made us more keen to finish something, you know how it is!?
Anyway, he was at the foot of the cornice, and I think a good 40m above me. He shouted that he was going to 'go for it', and started to climb/wade/swim.
The last vision I recall was him star shaped, actually fully 'on' the cornice, which I would guess was at least vertical, and then he and a considerable amount of snow just peeled off.
I just thought 'shit, we've had it', as he crashed and tumbled downwards, full rag-doll mode, along with his mini avalanche. I just held on to the dead rope for grim death, cothered into the slope and waited to be catapulted into space.
The noise was immense as the snow crashed over me, (my partner passing to my right) but the odd thing I remember was a sudden silence, and me thinking 'bloody hell, we've made it!'. Oh no, he had simply fallen past me, and was still falling. In that microsecond of thought, I realised what was happening just as he stopped.
Whack! I was off the stance, the rope tight over my thigh, pressing me against the wall, but the gear had held.
At that moment, some skiers who had watched him fall shouted down 'Are you OK, do you need help?', and I replied, 'Nah, we're fine' - God only knows why!!!?
After a minute or so, my partner, who unknown to me (as he was out of sight over an ice bulge) had been unconscious and inverted, came round, and started to right himself. This made the rope jolt disconcertingly, and I shouted for him to stay still, or at least try and take some weight off the rope. He replied very groggily that he had broke his leg, so I then shouted back up that we could use some help, thank you very much.
So cut to the end - Staying at the more secure belay definitely saved us that day. Admittedly, I think with more experience, he could maybe have made a better job of the exit, (it was shallower further right, but more exposed, and was indeed the way I climbed out, top-roped by the Ski Patrol boys).
My partner lost all his confidence, and has never climbed again. He blamed himself for putting us both in danger. I am more reflective. It was a hard lesson well-learned, and I think even today I am learning that a little time investment in improving gear or your safety margin is always time well-spent.