THE REAL GRAY NEEDLE

All of the major peaks in the Needle mountains had been previously climbed, but there are still numerous unclimbed pinnacles offering challenge to the rock climber. One of these, Gray Needle, at the west end of Jagged Mountain, was first climbed by a party from the [1953] outing. Expansion bolts were used on one 30-foot stretch of the climb. -- American Alpine Club, A.A.C. and C.M.C. Joint Outing, Needle Mountains, Colorado, July 19 - August 9, 1953

Will the real Gray Needle please stand up? -- Jim DiNapoli, August 26, 2012

Gray Needle is a peak surrounded by mystery. According to the 1953 brief, it should be found on the west side of the Jagged massif, and the climb should entail a difficult section perhaps yet sporting a number of 70-year-old bolts. The USGS topographic maps indicate no less than eight independent towers on the Jagged massif west of the summit, and in reality there are more than that. Only unranked, unnamed Noname Needle has a degree of prominence when viewed from most perspectives, and though it has been mistaken for Gray Needle, the climb is too easy to fit the description.

Maybe a roster of the 1953 outing to Noname Basin was kept. Were such a document produced, the names could be checked to determine if any of the party are still alive, and of them, who might have participated in or know further details of the ascent of Gray Needle and its precise location.

What is certain is that Gray Needle has been bureaucratically misplaced. Officially named by the USGS, it was assigned an elevation of 13,330 feet (recently upgraded to 13,366 feet) and located at the point labeled 13,430 on the USGS maps; thus the latter is the elevation typically used. This location was most likely bestowed by an unappreciated, underpsyched, bleary-eyed government intern racing a hard deadline to finish the everloving map.

And so we have the official Gray Needle, the middle of five rugged towers on Noname Ridge situated at the western terminus of Jagged Mountain. Decreasing in elevation from east to west, these are bookended on the east by Noname Needle with its impressive tabular capstone and on the west by the "Chess Piece" or "Bishop" as nicknamed by Steve Gladbach and Jim DiNapoli. They presumed this to be Gray Needle but, while distinctive, it is the lowest and has perhaps the least real prominence of the five towers. It does not appear to be a trivial climb, though an array of pitons should be more conducive to an ascent than a bolt ladder. Gray Needle is in fact the "Coke Bottle Needle," so called by Jim and Steve for the large bottle-shaped rock standing on its south flanks. It is more easily identified by another striking feature on its east shoulder that I have come to call the "Lizard's Head," in keeping with the San Juan tradition of unique and creative names.

Grant and I consider the sea of needles to the west of Jagged from our camp beside the little alpine lake just below Jagged Pass. They're all gray, but after scouting efforts last fall I am confident in my knowledge of the correct summit and how to efficiently access the upper reaches of the ridge upon which it is perched. Gray Needle stands just 1,200 feet above our camp--a modest climb by Weminuche standards--and so, sore from porting an outrageous amount of technical gear from Beartown, we decide to sleep in.

Noname Needle and Gray Needle can be accessed by a short, steep hike up the cirque that joins Gray Needle and Peak Ten. The key to this approach is encountered 400 feet below the Jagged-Peak Ten saddle: a narrow, grassy ramp that rises north to intersect the southwest-facing gully beneath Noname Needle. From this intersection, steep grass, sand and boulders in the gully lead to the south face of Gray Needle after a few hundred feet and finally to Noname Needle at the very top of the gully. It is also possible to continue on the ramp past the gully, following the ledge around the west end of Noname Ridge to a narrowing goat trail that eventually dead-ends in a terrific drop on the north side.

After a subalpine start we find ourselves beneath the south flanks of Gray Needle at 8am. Leaving the southwest gully, we scramble another 200 feet of 3rd class boulders and gravel to a grassy patch below the jumble of rocks that comprise the peak. Perhaps even more so than nearby summits, Gray Needle is not a monolith but rather a federation of tall, oblong boulders and slabs stacked one upon the other, leaning uniformly to the east, and standing mostly by virtue of crowding. From a distance such broken terrain appears navigable by any number of boulder-hopping routes, but its scale is wholly unappreciated until one draws near.

Grant is the ideal partner for this adventure. While my enthusiasm tends to fade when faced with venturing upwards into unknown technical terrain, especially with partners who rely on me for safety, his confidence that we will make the top is backed by much alpine experience, and thus with stoke to spare we don't dally at the technical threshold. We pause only to harness up. 50 feet up, Grant hikes a right-angling 5th class chimney; I toss up my pack and move deeper into the chimney to climb an easier 5.4 squeeze. Above this we find a small platform below a gently overhanging refrigerator of a chockstone blocking progress up the loosely defined chimney system. Beyond is a chossy rabbit-hole that looks like it will go. The Lizard's Head looms directly above.

We rope up. Grant places a cam, overcomes the chockstone and decides to traverse left around a huge boulder instead of continuing into the tunnel. He soon reappears atop the boulder and sets a belay in cracks there. For me, this chockstone presents a challenge with good but awkward holds and physical moves to surmount, around 5.8. Following Grant's lead, I move left around a sloping corner, which features a bizarre tumorous outcrop of disintegrating granite forming a handrail of questionable utility, and up to the belay.

Here we face another chockstone, rounded and smaller than the first, protruding over a gap to our left. I take the lead and waste a minute poking around for protection before deciding to just go. The football-sized rocks wedged in the gap shift as I sportily bearhug the dinosaur egg to reach holds above. This feels a tad easier than the lower crux, maybe 5.7. I place a cam and continue up easier terrain. At first I scramble out left, where I'm faced with a difficult wall to the left or a flaring offwidth to the right. Behind me, a wide chimney comprised of stacked blocks beside a smaller crack looks more user-friendly, so I back down a few feet and step across into the chimney, which leads easily to the ridge midway between the summit and the Lizard's Head. I scramble up to a platform below the summit blocks and sling a boulder for the belay.

Grant quickly joins me to ponder the twin summit blocks, which are anything but. The left one is ten feet tall, rectangular, and solid; the right one is a rounded, crumbling boulder seated on a platform. We are able to scramble easily to stand atop the solid block, but we jump to tag the other. Though we can't tell which is taller, it is clear that we are at least a few feet higher than the Lizard's Head, which comes as a relief to me since it looks terrifying. My GPS reads 13,460 feet and Grant's reads 13,390. We find no evidence of a prior ascent--no cairn, register, pitons, bolts, nor anchor material--although if we have made the first ascent of this point it is surely thanks to lack of interest rather than the difficulty of the climb.

[Author Edit: Peter Stabolepszy says of Gray Needle "Grey needle was a blast. We did several pinnacles that day which proved to be challenging. [...] Grey Needle was a challenge (not as much as the index climb wise) but more of a challenge figuring out which needle it was. It took us two days of climbing to climb all the points to ensure success." Given that, we can assume he climbed this point, too.]

We debate how to rate it. My overall impression is old-timey 5.6. Grant half-jokingly suggests V0 would more accurately describe the nature of the climb. I write "5.6 / V0" in the register we leave in the pile of rocks beneath the summit blocks. The next party are welcome to their opinion.

We make two rappels back to the patch of grass where we left our poles, the first around 110 feet and the second 80 or 90 feet.

NONAME NEEDLE AND THE CASE OF THE MISSING TAT

The day is still young, so we opt to make a side trip to Noname Needle. When Kylie and I climbed it last fall, I took the wrong crack and pulled on gear to pass an overhang, so I'm wanting another shot at a fair-means ascent. Grant and I return to the southwest gully and continue up steepening grass, then scramble left to the keyhole in the ridge, and finally meander right to the staging area below the southwest cracks. Grant leads the correct (left) 5.8 crack smoothly and I follow, finding his route much better than the one I had taken. This reasonably fun 80-foot pitch, more sustained than the climbing on Gray Needle but less cruxy, leads to a boulder-choked gully that marks the saddle between the twin summits.

After his climb with Steve in 2012, Jim wondered at the lack of a rappel anchor for the first pitch. Likewise, Kylie and I found no anchor in 2019; and today there's no trace of the cord we left less than a year ago, though the chockstone it wrapped is still firmly wedged in place. It seems unlikely that goats or even marmots frequent this peak, so my best guess is strong winds rake the saddle between the twin summits, fraying and eventually severing cordage, which then just blows away.

After scrambling to the summit, we return to the saddle and leave a new length of bright orange cord for our rappel.

OTHER STORIES

Hoping to climb at least The Index, we start before dawn the next morning for Ruby Basin, which requires first descending steeply 1,500 feet into Noname Basin. By the time we make treeline on the subsequent 2,000-foot bushwhack to the Peak Twelve-Monitor saddle, my knee has decided I should return home, so Grant continues on to explore upper Ruby while I go soak in a cold pool along the route back up to camp.

Later that afternoon, we decide to break up the hike out, so we pack our camp and return along the Kodiak High Route to camp on a nice ledge below the Peak Seven-Eight saddle with a fantastic view of the Trinitys.

The final morning as we descend the talus towards Lake Silex we're stalked doggedly by an ermine behaving as if taking prey our size is routine.

THE END