TR: Crestone Needle, Ellingwood Arete (Long!)
DCONDIT
ago, I had first been interested in this route. It was located very near one
of my favorite backpacking areas in the Sangre de Cristo mountains of Colorado.
I mentioned the route to a friend, and he informed me that he was very
interested. Although he later had to pull out of the plans, I continued to
pursue the idea. So, while on a recent trip to visit my parents in Colorado
Springs, I joined up with Carlo (an acquaintance of mine and old friend of my
parents) & set the plan in motion.
Through several e-mail conversations with other climbers, I had heard the
weather was preventing most summit attempts. If you've ever lived in Colorado,
you know that every summer afternoon brings rapidly billowing gray things that
spout lightning, rain & hail. Despite the unwelcome forecasts, we decided to
give it a try. We planned to hike in on Friday afternoon, summit on Saturday,
and hike out on Sunday after a little fishing. My father was coming along but
would remain in camp & fish on summit day.
After a leisurely drive through the mountains, we arrived at the beginning of
the four-wheel-drive road that leads to the trailhead. A recent e-mail reply
from someone had told me that the road was quite passable & took about an hour.
Hmmůit didn't look very far. I wonder why it takes an hour?
Bumpůjostleůtumbleůbangůbumpůknockůbumpůbang. By the time we reached the
parking area, I was in need of a rest!
The afternoon thunderstorms never developed, and we headed up the trail toward
upper South Colony Lake under a deep blue sky. I could see Crestone Needle in
front of me soon after emerging from the dense forestůwhat a view! Just like
the guidebook says, it looks quite imposing from way below. With the big rock
as our guide, we soon arrived at the perfect camp sight.
Early to bed & early to rise keeps this climber aliveůI was soon snoring away
with my watch set for 5 a.m. We would have planned on an earlier departure,
but we weren't quite sure of the start and wanted to do it in the light. This
would later turn out to be a mistake. But, when my alarm went off, I was ready
to go!
Still yawning, we walked slowly toward the towering mass of stone that loomed
ahead in the ever-increasing gray morning of pre-dawn. We were both wearing
our Gore-tex as the early morning air carried a bite. Our rack consisted of a
set of Camalots to #3, Metolious FCU 1-3, black & blue Aliens, and a set of
stoppers. I hadn't gotten any beta on recommended racks, but I figured this
would be fine. As it turned out, the only item I didn't use was the black
Alien. The rack was entirely sufficient. While I carried the rack & rope,
Carlo carried a backpack with water, food, headlamps, and a few other items.
Within a few minutes, we were approaching the base.
The guidebook talks about choosing between a long, ascending traverse and a
more difficult (but still pretty easy) direct start. We chose the direct start
& headed for the base of the arete. By the time the sun popped over the hills,
I was leading the first pitch. Initially, I was planning to do the whole thing
in my approach shoes, but I quickly chickened out & put on the fufu's when the
start required me to climb unprotected for about 25 feet. The rock looked
loose, but it was really quite solidůwellůmost of the timeůmaybeůI guess.
"Rock!" I shouted as Carlo hunkered in close to a small overhang. This shout
would be echoed many times as we picked our way up the arete. The first pitch
went quickly, and I set up a belay at a fixed pin (always a welcome sightůwe
must be on route!) Carlo led off on the next pitch, and I could immediately
tell that it would be a long day. He's always been more of an alpinist than a
rock climber. After slowly meandering his way up the 5.5ish crack & face, he
arrived at a likely place for the belay. After another 15 minutes, I was
shivering & shouting up for a progress report.
"I'm having a hard time finding some good pro for the belay." he shouted back
down. Oh well, it was his first pitch in quite some timeůI'll cut him some
slack. Eventually, he made it work & brought me up. Upon reaching him, I
grabbed the rack & looked up. Hmmůthat looks about like 5.8 or so directly
above us. The crux is supposed to be at the top & is only rated 5.7. Since I
had no intention of climbing anything more difficult than 5.7, I decided the
route must traverse left. Off I went & soon found myself belaying from another
fixed pin (backed up with a couple, more pieces of course).
After one more pitch of easily protected climbing, we arrived at a spot where
things eased up a bit. At about that time, my dad checked in on the radio. I
have two of those little Motorola radios, and we had left one with my dad for
the day. From his perch by the lake, he informed us that there was a party of
three doing the long traverse and a part of four coming up behind us. After
telling us that he'd caught one trout, he signed off. We had agreed to check
in every hour on the hour.
At about this time, I saw a head peek around a corner below. "Are we on the
right track?" the unknown face asked. I confessed my ignorance about the route
but told him of the fixed pin. I also said we'd be as careful as possible with
the loose rock.
For the next several pitches, we climbed on easy rock (4th class to 5.4) and
made pretty good time. However, within just a few pitches, the three climbing
parties were converging. There's lots of potential lines down low, but the
place really turn into a funnel about half way up. We talked to the party of
three for awhile as we took a break on a large, grassy ledge. George, the
ringleader, said that he'd done the route twice before. He gave us a few
pointers on the route and then took off on the next pitch. Although we would
probably move faster, they had arrived on the ledge before us, so we let them
go ahead.
Things got REALLY slow as we waited for the other parties. Somehow, the party
of four had gone around to the left and passed us while we sat on the grassy
ledge. Although we were first on the route, we were now last in line! There's
nothing like doing one of the "50 Crowded Climbs." Soon, my dad was checking
in to tell us he'd caught his limit of large, cutthroat trout. He informed us
that he was going to make a try at Humbolt Peak, a walk-up 14er just across the
small valley.
At about this time, Carlo said that he thought I should lead the rest of the
pitches since I was much faster. I quickly agreedůwe were way behind schedule.
Besides, I love to lead! Off I went on the next several pitches, quickly
passing the party of three & catching up to the party of four.
As midday wore into afternoon, I paused on another fine ledge. Although there
were thunderstorms off in the distance, I could tell the God had spared us from
the rain. The sky around us was clear & bright. I realized that I hadn't
eaten any lunch, but the altitude seemed to suck the hunger from me. I pulled
out some dried fruit, munching slowly. Soon after Carlo arrived at the ledge,
a huge marmot appeared next to me. It sat just three feet away & eyed my
tidbits of food. I tossed it a dried apricotůthen it charged me, going for my
jugular! We rolled around on the pile of rope, embroiled in a battle of life &
death. With all my strength, I just managed to keep its gnashing teeth from
tearing into the soft flesh of my cheeks! For several minutes, we were locked
in a mortal stalemateůour eyes only inches from each other. By the grace of
God, I slowly managed to push the menacing, throbbing pile of claws, teeth &
muscles away from me. Just as I was about to toss the vile demon from the
mountain, I lost my grip! It came at me unopposedů"Hey Dave, wake up." Carlo
nudged me & pointed up the slope. "We'd better get moving."
"O.K.," I responded. Hmmůthe marmot was still there, watching me. Whew! It
was just a dream. I grabbed the rack and headed up. Just before I pulled over
the next small overhang, I glanced back at the creature. It winked at me! I
swear it did! I always knew those marmots possessed strange powers.
The top was getting much nearer, but it was also getting late in the day. By
my best estimates, it looked like we would arrive on the summit just behind the
first partyůabout 4:30 p.m. Much later than my original plan but with plenty
of time to descend before dark. Checking in with my dad, I found that he was
only few meters from the summit of Humbolt. Wow, that was fast! Especially
for a 59-year-old man who had been living below sea level in the Netherlands
for the past six years.
Working my way up an awkward crack, I spied a precious piece of metal &
webbing. Ah, someone was unable to retrieve their #1.5 Rigid Friend! After a
little tinkering around, I added the booty to my rack. Arriving on a large
ledge covered with loose rock, I glanced up at what was supposed to be the 5.7
crux pitch. "It looks pretty dicey at the start." I told Carlo "Maybe it eases
up a bit as you ascend." Carlo didn't look too happy about it. He certainly
didn't climb more than 5.8, and at 14,000 feet with a pack on his back, he
wasn't going to be gunning for his personal best. Oh well, no sense waiting
aroundůthe party of four is almost to the summit (I thinkůcan't see them from
here), and the other party is only one pitch below us.
As I struggled to gain altitude, it never dawned on me that I might be off
route. I have a tendency to think everything seems harder than it is, so I
didn't think twice about the difficulty. I started shaking a little as I
pulled some difficult moves on crimpy holds above questionable pro. After
multiple scary moves, Carlo informed me that I was almost out of rope. What!?!
I was still at least 40 feet from any potential ledge. There was no way I
would make it. A few moves later found me setting up a hanging belay in a tiny
crack.
Looking back at my progress, something slowly began to dawn on meůCarlo would
never be able to climb up here. He just looked up at me & shook his head.
What was I thinking? I had done several moves that were at least 5.9. My
fears were confirmed when George (the guy who'd been here before) glanced up &
said, "Wow, you guys are really going for it. I think that's the 5.9
variation." After which, he sauntered around the corner to the left. Looking
down, I could see a very nice 5.7 crack leading up from his new position.
Now, since Carlo would not be able to come up to where I am, I had to decide
how to get back down below. I thought about leaving a few pieces & just
rapping off, my desire not to leave any booty for anyone else had me down
climbing. I must say, it totally sucks to down climb 5.9. Each time I pulled
out a piece of pro, I prayed that I didn't fall. To make matters worse, I
could see that we would now have to stand in line behind the slow party of
three once I made it down.
Eventually, I made it back to the ledge. After a quick hike around the corner,
Carlo & I settled in for a long wait. Dad had reached the summit of Humbolt &
was well on his way. As the shadows lengthened across the valley, I began to
get concerned about the descent. Even the easy way up & down Crestone Needle
is loose 4th class along 1000-foot ridges. The prospect of picking my way down
between potential death falls in the dark did not make me feel real happy.
The party in front of us offered to descent with us, but they reiterated that
they would not wait around on the summit if we were late. No problem, I
planned on climbing on the heals of their third person. After a VERY long wait
(they had some sort of problem), I started climbing. Their third climber was a
young lady who had not had that much climbing experience. When she arrived at
the more difficult part of the pitch, she got stuck.
With me directly below her, I coached while here teammates hauled. It took her
almost 20 minutes to surmount the small overhang, but eventually she made it.
I quickly set up a belay & started to bring up Carlo. Unfortunately, he had
the same problem on the overhang & took even longer to get past it.
Frantically, I watched the other party disappear into the dusk toward the
summit. "Come on Carlo!" my thoughts were shouting, "I don't want those guys
to leave us up here." I knew he was doing his best, so I never voiced my
thoughts. As Carlo arrived at my humble belay, I could hear the other party
shout down that they were going to start their descent.
I told Carlo that we could easily simu-climb the rest of the way. Roped
together, we headed for the top. I had already had my headlamp on & blazing
away. By the time I reached the summit, it was completely dark. I quickly
signed the summit register as Carlo arrived huffing & puffing. We quickly
snapped a couple of photos, illuminating the small summit with the camera
flash. After changing shoes & putting on our jackets, we started down along
the knife-edge ridge.
We stayed roped together in glacier travel format, more for the psychology than
the safety. It didn't seem too difficult, and my spirits began to rise as we
could hear voices not to far in front of us. We kept the radio on, staying in
constant communication with my father who was getting a little concerned. He
could see the pinpoints of light moving slowly along the steep ridge. I told
him to get the fish ready because we'd be home for a late dinner! How wrong
I'd beů
As the descent became less & less obvious, we shouted down to the party in
front of us for instructions. At first, they were a ways off, but we soon
found ourselves rapidly gaining on them. What's the deal? They should be
cruisingůshouldn't they? Within a short time, we rounded a corner & found
ourselves on a small ledge with the other party. After a joyous reunion, I
asked a simple question. "So, why are you guys just sitting here?" The
unhappy reply came from the nice young lady (who was now shivering in the
cold), "We're lost."
Hmmůthis isn't looking good. The guidebooks all describe the route from bottom
to top and then assume that you'll just follow your footsteps back to the
bottom. However, if you happen to ascend via another route, you're pretty much
S.O.L. Just a little warning for future travelers, the route is not very
obviousůeven in the light. So, we sat around for awhile & then decided to
carefully explore some options. George checked down to the right while Carlo &
I checked down to the left. Within a few minutes, Carlo & I were back on the
ledge after seeing a deadly, sheer cliff. George also found a drop-off, but
wasn't sure that it couldn't be navigated. The problem was that we may have
gotten off route much further back, so who knew where to go!
After more sitting around, Carlo & I decided to have a look at the route George
had scoped. We really just wanted to get away from the other climbers who were
getting into fights with each other by this time. They were arguing about
whether or not to bivy on the ledge or rappel into the darkness. The bivy idea
sounded best, but we figured we would find another ledgeůor maybe luck into a
trail of some sort.
So, into the inky blackness I went, following the small round spot from my
headlamp. Upon arriving at the drop-off George had described, we found that it
was possible to traverse left & then down climb further. After nearly an hour
of making very slow progress, we shouted up that we had found a cairn.
Unimpressed, the other party continued to argue with each other. After another
hour or so, Carlo & I found ourselves on a grassy slope with lots of cairns.
This must be it! We were very excited and began following the faithful piles
of rock. However, within just a few minutes, we were once again without a
trail & facing multiple drop-offs. Try as we might, we just couldn't figure it
out. We radioed my dad that we would have another quick look at the guidebook.
No luckůit was vague & useless. Peering around in the darkness, we realized
that this fine ledge would be our home for the night. We radioed my dad with
the news, and he iterated that it was for the best.
I was exhausted and figured I could sleep anywhere. We located a relatively
flat location, flaked out the rope for insulation, and hunkered down for the
night. Just as I thought I might fall asleep, the wind kicked up a little
causing a deep chill to run through my body. Within a few minutes, we were
both shivering uncontrollably. It turned out to be a much colder night than
normal. At 13,000 feet with a stiff wind blowing in our faces, we were
literally freezing. I was wearing my light climbing clothes covered with a
layer of Gore-texůnot enough for the conditions. Stupid! I usually bring my
bivy sack just for these circumstances, but today it was sitting back in camp.
I shivered so hard I even chipped a tooth. Eventually, I found that I could
manage the temperature if I jogged in place for five minutes out of every 15.
In between jogging exercises, Carlo would sit there & rock back & forth. We
both kept thinking we saw lights or heard voices, but it was just the ghosts of
our imaginations. Watching an airliner quietly pass far to the south, I
couldn't help but think of the passengers all warn & happyůprobably on their
way to Hawaii or some other place warn. I could also see tiny, warm lights in
the valley. I could almost see the warm beds & burning fires. If I just had a
layer of fleece or a bivy sack or a sleeping bag or a big fluffy down
comforterůjog jog jogůshiver shiver shiverůthe night seemed to last forever!
"Did you see that?!" I asked excitedly.
"See what?" Carlo asked with a stiff voice.
I quickly answered, "I could swear that star just turned into a big flying
saucer!"
Instead of telling me that I was crazy, Carlo's voice got excited also. "I
didn't see the star, but did you see the big lights moving along that wall? I
think someone is coming up here. They probably have blankets for us!"
We both peered into the coal-dark night with eagerness. After a few minutes,
we both silently realized that we were just hallucinating from the cold &
exhaustion. Although I saw many more exciting things during the night, I just
kept them to myself. I kept watching the eastů
After what seemed like an eternity, we both agreed that the stars in the east
were truly beginning to disappearůit wasn't just our imaginations! After
watching for as long as we could, we soon found ourselves happily packing our
few meager things into the pack that had been our seat for hours. By the time
we had policed up the area for loose items, it was light enough to see. After
a few dead-end gullies, I spotted a path along the ridge to our left. We
traversed a difficult section & soon found ourselves on an obvious trail that
lead down toward the notch that lead to the valley that lead to our campsite!
Arriving in camp after three more hours of hiking, we were greeted by my father
& a pan full of trout!
Gear:
Take a light rack with a few small to medium cams & some stoppers.
Route:
Anything goes on the bottom & middle of the routes. If you do the long
traverse past the grassy slopes at the beginning, you should be able to
simu-climb on very easy ground for the first half of the route. This should
help you move fast to beat thunderstorms, crowds, and/or darkness. Near the
top, climb a right-leaning crack (you'll find several fixed pins & a ╝ inch
buttonhead bolt) that puts you onto a blocky ledge. From the blocky ledge,
walk around the corner to the left to find the easier crack. You'll find an
excellent belay ledge, and the crack will start about 12 feet past an easy
face. The crack is full of ancient fixed gear and is a very obvious line. If
you don't see a bunch of fixed pins before any difficult moves, you're in the
wrong place.
Descent:
Do it in the daylight! The route is not at all obvious, even in the light.
It's impossible in darkness. It is class 4 all the way, so if you come to a
rappel station, climb back up & keep traversing.
Dave
Rob Pauley
>
> "See what?" Carlo asked with a stiff voice.
>
> I quickly answered, "I could swear that star just turned into a big
> flying
> saucer!"
Having lived in Alamosa (in the heart of the San Luis Valley that you
were looking over), I can attest to the fact that UFOs exist in the
valley. The city of Crestone (like Sedona, AZ) is considered a
spiritual vortex of the universe. UFOs are constantly sighted. More
often than not, these are single engine planes dropping drugs to pick up
crews down below and the disappearing lights are due to them flying in
without lights, they turn the lights on for the drop and then turn the
lights back off.
too bad you couldn't find a UFO to show you how to get off the mountain.
Dingus Milktoast
Rob Pauley wrote:
> > "Did you see that?!" I asked excitedly.
> >
> > "See what?" Carlo asked with a stiff voice.
> >
> > I quickly answered, "I could swear that star just turned into a big
> > flying
> > saucer!"
>
> Having lived in Alamosa (in the heart of the San Luis Valley that you
> were looking over), I can attest to the fact that UFOs exist in the
> valley. The city of Crestone (like Sedona, AZ) is considered a
> spiritual vortex of the universe. UFOs are constantly sighted. More
> often than not, these are single engine planes dropping drugs to pick up
> crews down below and the disappearing lights are due to them flying in
> without lights, they turn the lights on for the drop and then turn the
> lights back off.
>
> too bad you couldn't find a UFO to show you how to get off the mountain.
Too bad they didn't make the drop onto the arete. Might have made a cold
night a little more bearable.
DMT