CRESTONE NEEDLE
14,197 ft.
August 25, 1997
By Tim Briese
(I climbed the Needle again in 2006. Here is a trip report on that climb.)
For many months I looked forward to climbing the Crestone Needle. This difficult ascent was the greatest mountain climbing challenge I had yet attempted, and was something I had thought impossible for myself just a couple of years before. We can do so much more than we think we can!
I picked up my friend Bruce at 4:30 a.m. and headed to Westcliffe, finding very little traffic on the road at that hour. The sun was just beginning to shine on the high peaks of the rugged Sangre de Cristo Range as we descended into the Wet Mountain Valley, which was quite a beautiful sight. We observed Humboldt Peak, Crestone Peak, and the Needle off to the southwest as we drove down the highway south of Westcliffe. We headed up the rough four wheel drive road toward South Colony Basin, a road so rough that it takes nearly as long to drive as it does to hike on its rougher sections. It took about an hour to cover its five mile length before we reached the trailhead at 11,000 feet.
A few minutes before 8:00 we headed up the trail into the Sangre de Cristo Wilderness, and climbed steadily for a mile or so to beautiful Lower South Colony Lake, located right at timberline. The Needle loomed imposingly above us, with some 2000 vertical feet of rock on its sheer east face. At this point we left the main trail and struck off to the left on a side path and crossed a stream just below the lake before beginning a stiff ascent up a steep slope toward Broken Hand Pass. We hiked up through rocks and tundra in the golden early morning light, and stopped frequently to catch our breath and admire the views. We worked our way upward across an area strewn with boulders before hiking past a large snowfield. Then we climbed very steeply up a couloir toward the Pass, which is located on the ridge south of the Needle. Earlier in the summer I had observed the route up this couloir from the valley below while on my way to Humboldt Peak, and it looked very intimidating, and almost straight up. It indeed turned out to be a very steep climb, but it was a mere warmup for the south face of the Needle, which still lay before us.
After reaching Broken Hand Pass at 12,900 feet we sat down and rested for a while. To the north of us towered the Needle, and we studied the route up its south face. The climb looked almost impossible to novices like us. There was a thousand feet of very steep rock to climb, and this was the easiest way up! We could see three or four other climbers on the Needle who looked like tiny ants from where we sat. Several hundred feet below us to the west lay beautiful Cottonwood Lake, nestled in a green valley above timberline.
We advanced along the climber’s trail toward the Needle as we contoured along the west side of the south ridge, scrambling up over some rock outcroppings along the way. We met two climbers coming down, and one of them told us he was in a hurry to get back to Denver for a Rockies game that night. Soon we reached the base of the south couloir and began to scramble up. The rock was pleasantly solid, with an ample supply of excellent, knobby hand and footholds to aid our climbing. It was a lot of fun scrambling hand and foot up the steep, clean rock faces. Fortunately the rock was dry, for wet rock would likely increase the difficulty of the climb to some degree. I paused and put my gloves on to avoid abrasion from the rocks on my hands. The route was quite straightforward, because the only option was to go right up the couloir. The guidebooks speak of a traverse to the left into an easier couloir part of the way up, but we did not see a route for such a traverse and so we simply stayed in the main couloir all the way to its upper end. It became especially steep at one point, but it still felt secure on the solid rock. I had a thirty foot rope along in my pack, which we never needed. This was a good thing, too, because I probably wouldn’t have known what to do with it anyway. We made surprisingly fast progress up the couloir, and in less than an hour we neared its upper end and picked our way up a final steep and rocky slope until the angle relented. From there it was an easy 100 foot stroll to the summit, which we stepped atop just before noon.
The summit was a spectacular place, with dropoffs falling away sharply on every side. The exposure was almost dizzying, and I felt compelled to keep my feet planted firmly beneath me. This was certainly not a place for one who is afraid of heights. The summit was more roomy than I expected, though, and could have easily accommodated a dozen people or more if need be, although there was no one else on top while we were there. I studied the ominous-looking ridge across to Crestone Peak to the northwest, and admired Kit Carson beyond. To the south lay the Sand Dunes on the floor of the San Luis Valley and the Blanca massif in the distance. Far below to the east lay the South Colony Lakes, with Humboldt Peak across the valley beyond. It was pleasant and calm on top, and my thermometer registered a rather balmy 59 degrees. Some thunderstorms were beginning to build far off to the west, but an overcast sky in our vicinity was delaying any convective buildup of clouds above us for the time being. We lounged around on top for a half hour or so, enjoying the spectacular views.
At about 12:30 we began the descent. As we approached the top of the couloir I crawled over to the edge of the east face to have a look. I lay on my stomach and peered over the edge at Lower South Colony Lake a vertical half mile below. The descent down the couloir was as fun as the climb had been, as we carefully picked our way down the rock faces on all fours. We were careful to avoid rolling rocks down on each other, but there were not really very many loose rocks to worry about. It was almost dizzying looking down the steep couloir as we descended.
Soon we were back down at Broken Hand Pass lounging on the soft grass, gazing back up at where we had climbed. It still looked nearly impossible. It had been a good exercise in positive thinking, Bruce remarked. We rapidly descended the steep scree below the pass, and then chose a slightly different, more direct line back down to the lake, for a little change of scenery. We followed a faint, almost non-existent trail down through boulders, grass, and eventually willows as we neared the shore of the lake. We greeted a couple of fishermen as we walked along the west side of the lake, and I noted that this was quite a spectacular spot to fish. We continued on past a couple of ponds, crossed the stream below the lake, and rejoined the main trail. The sun was now shining brightly, and we turned and glanced back up at the Needle, which towered proudly over the valley.
My knee was becoming painfully sore as we tramped back down the trail into the heavy timber. The entire roundtrip hike was about five miles long, but it seemed much longer, at least according to our tired bodies. We trudged back to the trailhead about 3 p.m., and sat on the tailgate of my truck enjoying a can of cold pop as we admired the high peaks around us. It soon clouded over and started to rain as we bounced back down the rough road toward civilization.
It had been quite an adventure to visit one of Colorado’s wild and most spectacular places. The Crestone Needle was my first real class three climb, and although it was a difficult challenge, it was also a lot of fun. I knew that I wanted to come back and climb this one again sometime.
