The Masters of Stone Triptych (part 2)

Alternative title: Mixed Emotions in The Needles

I've written about The Needles not once, but twice before. It's one of my favourite places on Earth, blending incredible featured granite, adventure beyond their stature, and a mystical aura further evoked by the names of each formation, such as the Witch, the Warlock, the Magician... It's fair to say, I'm completely bewitched. So when I read that the KNP Complex Wild Fire in 2021 had wreaked devastation across that whole area my heart sank. The road to the camping at the trail head only reopened in May this year, so I was expecting it to look very raw still.

Wildfires are actually a normal and healthy part of the forests' life cycle. Tall dense trees stop sunlight penetrating their canopy and reaching the ground, meaning low lying plants (and hence food for animals) don't get a look in. Following a wildfire, these shrubs and plants are usually the first to colonise the now nutrient-rich ground. All the same, a bit of NIMBYism colours my view when it's somewhere so special to me; I'd rather it hadn't been burnt.

Arriving after dusk hid the extent of the damage, and confused me enough so I didn't even recognise the campground. The next day revealed the reality of it: whole swathes of hillside scarred, only a few random patches of pines spared by wind direction, topography, and chance. I felt tears well as we walked to the crags. I have many happy memories of this place: sheltering under trees during that downpour in 2014, meeting Miha and Milena, and one of my strongest olfactory memories of the aroma of the pines after rain. All of these strongly connected with the sense of place, which is inseparable from the trees themselves. There was a jarring between my memories of these events - surrounded by lush green pines stretching over evey hillside - and the charred remains in front of me. Walking in, my spirits raised as we made it closer to the rocks; the damage was much more contained here.

Marie negotiating a fallen log

Charred trees everywhere

We experienced navigational issues on the final stretch of the approach. Much like a weed is simply a plant in the wrong place, we were most certainly not lost: simply we were people in the wrong location. For quite a while, as it happened. A bit short on time, we did Airy Interlude (5.10a, about E1), the last of the major classics I had yet to do in the Sorcerer-Witch gully. The traverse for which the route is named is a joy: holds in exactly the right place, exposure, and in this arena of vertical granite spires. The perfection of how the holds are placed is just magical.

Marie on Airy Interlude. Grimacing, as she is in almost every photo I have of her.

The Warlock, as seen from the top of the Witch (where Airy Interlude tops out)

The next day, we walk again. We are an hour faster this time, so congratulate ourselves with a complex plan. We intend to do The Howling, a two pitch route to the top of the Warlock, then abseil in so I can try the third of my Masters of Stone triptych: Titanic. Well, actually I think I'm going to try the 'Women and Children First' variation which misses out a chunk of the hard climbing under the guise that it's logistically simpler, because otherwise we need a second rope to reach the start of it. Naturally we have more than enough ropes with us, but I strategically make sure to leave them in the car, thus committing myself to the easier variation with my pride intact.

The Howling proves to be a thrill. A grand crack for starters, then a spooky top pitch protected by two bolts and a tied off knob in about 35m. The technicalities gradually ease until it's hard to tell whether I'm still climbing or crawling, and when it would be best to stand and walk up hill.

Marie on the top pitch of The Howling. Behind her The Witch (foreground) and The Charlaton (background)

Next, comes a massive clusterfuck. In fact, this is a real beauty of one, where the diagonal abseil to the start of Titanic / WaCF has left me on the ledge, gear equipping the whole route, and Marie suspended in space on the end of the ropes in the middle of nowhere, without the ropes running through half the gear and the ropes not reaching the ground below her. All Marie wanted was to be reunited with solid ground, however I was quite concerned that her desperation might overwhelm her common sense and she could do something which reunites her with the ground rather too quickly. Poor Marie, she looked terrified. I felt terrified. Ridiculous thoughts ran through my brain: how on earth do we unfuck this situation? If anyone else saw this would they think we're a pair of hapless punters? Isn't this eerily similar to aircraft disasters which typically result from a series of mistakes rather then one catastrophic failure like I read about in that Malcolm Gladwell book in 2012? What was that book called anyway? What happens if we can't rescue Marie and she's left there all night? What happens if we do rescue her and she gets onto this ledge with me, how cross will she be? Now I was really scared.

Needless to say, we did reunite Marie with solid ground, in a slow and controlled fashion, using rope work techniques you are unlikely to find in a textbook. We agreed that we have different ideas on what constitutes an adequate dosage of "adventure" and resolved to go to somewhere with more single-pitch climbs. I had a quick top rope on WaCF (well, it was more horizontal toproping to begin with because of how the ropes were running in the aftermath of the cluster) but to be honest it was more of a gear retrieval mission by that point. Plus is was surprisingly difficult!

This was far from the first mini-epic (my words, not Marie's) I've had here. You used to have to go on some academic's Stanford.edu website to download topos, which meant you were guaranteed to go wrong somewhere. I liked that. When I learnt that there's now an actual guidebook I was a bit disappointed, as I feared that it might take away some of the adventure and mystery. Clearly I'm still capable of getting into mischief despite the extra direction so I needn't have worried. In fact, despite this minor escapade, Marie still loved our time here. She too is completely under the spell of the place.

The evening light here is so special. I have dozens of photos like this, none of them quite capturing the essence of it all

What this little escapade did teach us is how different our appetite for adventure is. In my heart, what I'd dreamt of doing in California was a bunch of the bigger and harder (for me) multipitches on the Sierra granite. From the comfort of Sheffield, Marie had shown at least muted enthusiam for these, but when drams hit cold hard granitic reality, it became obvious that this wasn't going to happen. I guess if I want to do them enough, I'll have to return for them. Maybe the forest will have had a bit more time to regrow by then, too.

So, there went the triptych of Masters of Stone routes, no "trip tick" for me. Unless you count Airy Interlude, which - as a matter of fact - is also in the film. But as great as that route is, if I counted that as completing the trilogy I'd feel I was cheating myself. And I'd have less of a reason to come back...

From the fire comes new life