The Organ Mountains lie in southern New Mexico, separating Las Cruces to the west from White Sands Missile Range to the east. The Organs are an impressive series of rocky "needle" outcrops, with imposing cliffs; the range was apparently named for its similarity to a pipe-organ (so I've read). Organ Needle is the highest point of this range, although it is impossible to identify it from below without having someone point it out for you. The topographic map does not give an elevation reading for the summit other than a single 8,980-foot contour, but older books (specifically Ungnade's Mountains of New Mexico) list the peak as 9,012 feet. In fact, the topographic map just muddles the situation. The needles and cliffs are so packed that the jumble of contours confuses rather than helps; important features like approach canyons and saddles aren't necessarily obvious. Lastly, Organ Needle is arguably the most challenging of New Mexico's 33 county highpoints in terms of technicality: most of the climb is up a steep, unmaintained trail with a short rock-climb pitch just below the summit. I figured my best chance to summit this peak would be to tag along with some locals who have climbed it before, which is what I did. In our group were 11 people of various ages (30s-70s) but all with good climbing backgrounds. Scott Holzhauser, a well-known climber from the Las Cruces area, was the leader of this outing. Most of the rest were from the Las Cruces area, while four of us came in from Arizona, and most knew one another through various hiking clubs. We were blessed with fabulous clear blue skies and pleasant temperatures.

My journey began Friday, March 30th. I left work at 3 p.m. and hit the road for the 6-hour drive to Las Cruces, where I stayed at a motel. I met up with the others the next morning at 7 a.m. We came in from the west, taking University Avenue (off of I-25) east, past "A" Mountain, to the end of the pavement. I didn't keep close track of road names since I was following the others, but I knew we followed Dripping Springs Road a ways, turned left (north) at a major junction, then turned right onto a lesser dirt road up toward Modoc Mine, about 8 miles from I-25. We parked here and started our hike, although the road did go farther up the hills. However, the road was pretty chewed up and probably would have taken longer for all of us to drive up this last portion. We hiked up this road up and over a small ridge and then down into a small depression, then another short uphill to another ridge, and again downhill until the road finally petered out in a big field of cactus. We were heading generally toward Fillmore Canyon and aiming for an unnamed peak, marked by its spot elevation 7,778 feet, located just southwest of the summit. Lower down at the mouth of the canyon were some yellow-colored rocks, the so-called Yellow Rocks that serve as a good navigational item.

We ascended out of the lower foothills and generally started up the steep slopes southwest of Peak 7778. Some game paths helped and in time, we came upon a more substantial human foot-path that barreled steeply up the slopes toward a small saddle just west of Peak 7778. This path helped, but was very steep, loose with gravel and rubble, and lined with every pointy plant this part of New Mexico has to offer. Our big group of 11 strung out as we approached this saddle, and we took an extended break here. So far, we ‘d walked about 3 miles and gained over 2,700 feet. Looming directly above us another 1,400 feet was the Needle itself, but still hard to discern from among the myriad of other needles. Safe to say, the whole thing looked steep and brushy, so trying to locate the “right” peak at this stage was just for amusement only.

From this saddle we had two options: bear slightly right and follow the very steep use-path up brushy slopes, aiming for the cliffs above us and below the Needle, or bear left and work through some rocky tiers, albeit with more trees and brush. Personally, I had no strong opinion. Our group broke into two, and I went with the group going left through the brush and rocky tiers. This section was grueling but technically simple. The brush was very thick and we were constantly hoisting ourselves up the rocks, finally meeting everyone else at the base of the cliffs. So far, so good, but very tiring.

Now at the base of these cliffs, we could eyeball a very narrow canyon that was completely invisible to use from below. This canyon—called Dark Canyon—was more a gully or defile than a proper canyon; it was choked with trees and brush (curiously, a lot of Maple trees were growing here). As long as we stuck to the cliff margin, we had a narrow, three-foot wide “opening” to squirm our way up. The climbing was more of the same: wriggling up rocks, dodging brush, using the hands for everything, but again, nothing technical. In time, we had climbed this gully to a narrow saddle at the head of Dark Canyon, directly due south of the Needle. I was beat, but plugging along, just following the others. Even though it had been warm for a few weeks, there were pockets of snow in Dark Canyon, which is narrow and deep enough so that some parts may never get direct sunlight. Interesting.

From this saddle we descended about 100 feet and started trending north, again staying as close to the cliff-and-tree margin as possible. The going here was steep, loose but generally safe. There are a few small sub-canyons that branch off this little segment, and knowing which one to take is basically guesswork. Even though the Needle is very close by, it’s still invisible. One such canyon even has a small concrete pad with a message written on it, something like “Not this one, next one over”. I was told it was placed here by the family of a climber who met grief (death?) going up this wrong canyon. The only obstacle we had was a rock fin placed awkwardly in our path, requiring some nimble moves to get past (with some exposure to fall). Finally, we came upon the correct sub-canyon and ambled up a short path to come to the base of a small cliff, the only truly technical portion of the whole climb.

The cliff is about 40 feet high and has a very big crack running lower-left to upper-right, with enough “ledge” space so that it is possible to stand on it and carefully walk up this ledge, but it is very exposed. Getting up this crack was not too bad; everyone free-climbed it, with a couple of people standing at crucial points to guide our feet and hands. Once atop this crack, the summit was just an easy five-minute walk away. I went ahead and tagged the top, got some amazing views of the land in all directions and enjoyed my lunch. The whole gang of us spread out over the various rocky slabs strewn about the summit region. The views were tremendous, and the weather was blue, dry and spectacular. We had a great day for our climb, fortunately.

For the descent, we would need to down-climb that cliffy section, and certainly, that’s all I could think about until we were below it. I had brought along my climbing rope, my seat harness and two beefy carabiners in my pack—not everyone knew I had these items with me, but when I pulled them out, about half the people seemed grateful and relieved. A few of the braver ones downclimbed the cliff without a rope, and again, positioned themselves at strategic points to talk others through the trickier moves. One of the guys (named Chip, I think) was belaymaster while I stayed up top and made sure the harness was on properly for those of us who wanted its protection. Each downclimb took a few minutes at most. I went second-to-last, then Chip brought the whole apparatus down with him. Scott Holzhauser was happy I had the gear with me, and as thanks, offered to carry it out in his pack, relieving me of the extra weight. I accepted his offer.

For the remainder of the descent, we just took our time retracing our route, meeting once again at the saddle near Peak 7778. Once we were all accounted for, we strung out again, by now all following the use-path back down to the lower foothills and back to the old mine road. It was getting close to dark as we ambled out to the cars, and one of the guys had driven his jeep up to greet us and give us a short ferry back to the main group of cars. The faster group had by now driven off, and it was pretty much dark when I finally staggered to my truck, where Holzhauser had stashed my rope and gear for me. I was completely bushed but very happy to have been successful on the Needle, and readily admit that without the guidance of the locals, would not have had a clue where to go to gain this remarkable summit. My thanks to the group. We all scattered with the wind—no big post-hike burger run or anything. Frankly, all I wanted was a shower and a bed to sleep in. I rolled into Las Cruces but the Motel-6 there was sold out, but they said the one in Deming, 60 miles ahead, had rooms, so I reserved one and got moving toward Deming.

While driving on Interstate-10 about 30 miles west of Las Cruces, I witnessed a roll-over accident right in front of me: an SUV had been driving erratically, swerving and drifting for no good reason for about 5 miles. I stayed behind to watch (a little nervous to pass for obvious reasons). Finally, the driver drifted into the median, swerved right into the right shoulder, over-corrected and rolled her vehicle, landing in the median on its side. I pulled over, called for an ambulance on my phone, then ran across the highway to render what aid I could (I was EMT certified at the time, but had none of my stuff with me). Others had stopped and somehow, the driver was outside her vehicle—she probably had been ejected. She was standing there, slumped and in a daze, being helped by a couple of the other witnesses. I identified myself as an EMT, and by default became the lead on this situation. A police cruiser rolled up within minutes to assist. We had blankets, and we gently helped her into a seating/fetal position, me holding her head for c-spine. She was favoring her lower-right abdomen, so I thought it best to let her lay in this position instead of the “traditional” supine (on the back) position. Her breathing was good and in the event she needed to vomit, she was in a position to just let it happen. In the meantime some other guy comes running up, yelling at us that he’s an EMT and to do this, that, the other thing, that we’re doing it all wrong, so forth. I told him who I was but he wouldn’t listen. He insisted that we lay her supine but I insisted no, she’s fine where she’s at. Fortunately the medics rolled up within minutes and got her secured and to the hospital. She had mentioned feeling kind of sick, not eating, taking a Tylenol. All this added up to her falling asleep at the wheel. She was not wearing a seat belt. She was extremely lucky to survive.

Me, I crashed like a log in Deming and drove home the following day.