An Ascent of the Crestone Needle via the Ellingwood Arete

Trip Report -September 20th, 1997

By Arthur Vyn Boennighausen

Friends:

This trip report is from about six years ago. I am doing it from memory so forgive me if the particulars are a little vague...

The outing starts by driving up the seven mile long South Colony Creek Road. We used a purple Volkswagen Westphalia Syncro as the approach vehicle. For those unfamiliar with the VW Westphalia Syncro, this is a fancy miniature recreation vehicle with moderate ground clearance that is full time four wheel drive.

I remember that the road required some careful attention to steering but the Westphalia made it easily to the shores of South Colony Lakes.

We drove in the day before the climb and camped in the Westphalia. The next morning we arose at five in the morning and had a small breakfast consisting mostly of strong Lipton tea and oatmeal. I never have been able to eat much before a climb. We always push ourselves so hard on each climb that I have butterflies in my stomach before we begin and I can hardly sleep the night before the climb.

After breakfast we walked for about fifteen minutes to the edge of the water of the lake. The sky was clear except for a small, unusual looking cloud that hovered and churned near the small summit of the appropriately named needle. "Hmm?" I thought. A perfectly clear sky except for that cloud swirling around the summit. I wondered what was up there in that cloud. So unusual... such a clear day and just that one small cloud swirling around the summit. Mountains with clouds on the summit have always been a sign that there is something Sacred up there. A lesson was to be learned up there; perhaps a very hard lesson.

From the Southern shore of the lake, we walked up a talus slope for about forty-five minutes to the base of the two thousand high cliff. I had a photographic copy of the route in my pocket from Steve Roper and Allen Steck's book - "Fifty Classic Climbs of North America." The route description included a black and white photograph of the cliff with the route marked with a black line. As we stood at the prow of the buttress we could see that the route actually started far to our left to avoid the initial steep section at the foot of the buttress. Personally, I have always like Directisimas and the climbing did not look too hard so we "invented" a new start to the climb on the spur of the moment.

We roped up for a technical rock climb but I was determined to lead the entire climb without protection to become a better climber. My intention was to use the rope and hardware only to set up belay stations and to protect my second who only had one year experience to my fifteen.

I started to lead the first pitch of the climb. The climbing was unusual in that the rock consisted of round nodules of quartz sticking halfway out of a red matrix of background rock. The nodules were two inches to a foot in diameter; all perfectly smooth and of a variety of colors. Each move consisted of stepping from one rounded nodule to the next using friction for the foothold without any real handholds at all other than placing your hands on a round quartz surface sticking out of the cliff.

I was climbing quickly that day. No sense in being cautious when you are determined not to use protection. The pitches whirled by. My second seemed to be going much too slow so I constantly yelled down encouragement to him. Encouragement that mostly consisted of wondering aloud why he was going so slow when I was protecting him with a secure rope from above.

We looked across the valley to the North at 14,060' Humbolt Peak. Humbolt was a grassy pyramid that was very appealing to the eye. Smooth and green. The route to the summit was an easy walk-up compared to where we were.

I kept pushing my partner to go faster as I was eager to see what was in that cloud that started at the final headwall.

Soon we were in the cloud. It instantly turned into a snow blizzard as we entered the mists. Two inches of fresh snow covered all the rocks as we studied the next pitch which looked like a rising undercling at the YDS 5.8 level. We paused to put on some more clothes and started climbing again.

The pitch was difficult with the snow and the intimidation of the mists all around us. We were 1500 foot off the ground so we had to keep going up the last 500 foot. As I made the moves of the undercling, I felt myself getting too close to my limit of ability so I clipped the rope into a couple of fixed pitons for protection rather than continue to solo the route.

Soon I was near the end of the pitch and much easier ground was ahead to the summit. I brought my partner up and we quickly climbed the last two pitches to the summit.

Once on top, I looked at my watch. Four hours had past by since we started the climb. I thought we might have set a new speed record for the route and I passed this thought along to my partner.

"A new speed record?" He whined. "You kept yelling at me the whole time we were climbing that I was too slow and now you tell me you think we set a new speed record!"

From the summit we downclimbed endless gullies of solid stone. The only suggestion I have for finding the descent route is to keep crossing the fins of rock that separate the gullies to keep yourself headed down and East until you reach the Col. or saddle that leads you back down talus to South Colony Lakes. The descent would be a difficult undertaking if the rock was covered with snow or rain. Allow three hours for the descent to South Colony Lakes.