The night before I read, one more time, from the Zion Canyon Trail Guide: "Angels Landing – Strenuous Long drop-offs and narrow trail. Not for anyone fearful of heights. Ends at summit high above Zion Canyon. Last 0.5 mi follows steep, narrow ridge; chains have been added."
The day of the hike I woke up with mixed emotions. I didn't sleep very well in anticipation of the day's activity. Half of me was excited for a challenge, to spend time with my sons accomplishing something that isn't easy. The other half was apprehensive. I worried I was plunging headlong into something I couldn't control, a strenuous hike I'd never done before. I looked for a way out without losing face – nothing presented itself.
The plan for the day had my family splitting up, only three of seven going on the hike. While the rest wanted to relax, hang around the hotel and go to the pool. We needed to meet back up as soon as possible so we could leave at 5:00pm for a special birthday dinner for my soon to be 16-year-old son.
My mixed emotions intensified when it took longer than we thought to travel from our hotel in St. George to the Zion Canyon Visitor Center, the better part of an hour. As the drive continued to drag on I started the mental calculations of how long it would take to do the hike and get back in time for our dinner plans. According to the trail guide the Angels Landing hike takes 4 hours round trip. We were bumping up against our dinner deadline.
A little background about me—I have chronic lateness syndrome. I've been known to totally mess up plans because I tend to get caught up in the moment, totally disregarding prior engagements.
Once again I offered to forgo the hike in order to guarantee we didn't disrupt the dinner plans. And once again I was shot down.
After being dropped off we scurried into the shuttle, right around noon. I had it in my mind that the 4 hours the trail guide estimated was for ordinary folks – those
unlike the super me and my boys. But the fact that we started late, and had important dinner plans that could easily be messed up, started me off feeling behind.
We exited the shuttle at the Grotto and made a beeline for the trailhead across the street. I prepped my 2 sons, one 13-years-old and the other 18: "We need to hustle through the hike, no dilly dallying." As we progressed through the lower part of the trail my 13-year-old made excellent time. In fact, I worried he was going too fast and should pace himself. We stuck together, mainly because they were nice and waited for me when I lagged too far behind. The first set of switchbacks weren't much of a challenge, the trail was paved most of the way. By the time we made it to the base of the mountain the trail leveled out into a welcomed gentle rolling up and down stroll, for a few minutes. We made it through that section even quicker and came upon the second section of switchbacks. This was mostly in the shade and once again posed little challenge. Till we hit the spot I now understand is called "Walters Wiggles." What a cute name for what ended up being quite the opposite of cute. Looking up from the base of the wiggles this set of switchbacks were so tight and so many, I at first glance thought we were going to climb stairs carved into the stone. They weren't actually stairs but they might as well have been. The rapid zig-zags wore me out after the first few. I set my goal to go back and forth, one zig and one zag, once before stopping for a breather (rather than stopping at each switchback). This strategy had the added bonus that I could stop in the shade each time. I got into a rhythm, found a second wind and began taking 2 zig-zags before a break. As I plodded along through the 21 zig-zags I'd come upon my sons laughing and hiding in cracks pointing out how old I am. Something I'm only now able to look back on and smile at. Clearly the wiggles didn't have the same physical impact on my sons that they did on me. At the top of the wiggles the trail leveled off just before my physical strength gave out. We had a brief leisurely stroll through a comfy sandy-bottomed trail into Scout Lookout. It's at this point where you can catch a glimpse of what's to come before reaching the summit of Angels Landing. Pay attention here.
Up to this point on the hike there were many people going up and down, along with us. Each one that passed going down I wanted to ask: "Is it worth it?" and "How far are we?" But few if any spoke to us more than a brief greeting. I guess they were busy enjoying the solitary beauty of the surroundings, like we were.
The stroll through Scout Lookout was invigorating. Physically that was exactly what I needed. We passed many who were lounging about enjoying the view. But for us, we had a schedule to keep. From here to the top is a mere 0.5 miles, a piece of cake. We made it to the first set of chains. My first thought was alright, I can handle this, it's gonna be fun – let the challenge begin. That's because the first set of chains are pretty easy, on a hill with no narrow cliffs. I believe this is how they suck you in. Progressing through that first set I was confident, everything was good. We did have to wait for traffic – it was pretty much a single line for those going up and down. But that was always a welcomed respite.
Then the trail got steeper and narrower. I don't remember exactly where it happened but the fun, at least for me, stopped. My anxiety mounted with each step I took over the narrow rocks, shuffling along the edge of the sheer cliffs, which at this point rose roughly 150 feet. I thought to myself this would be so much easier mentally if I were alone, without my sons. It was my sons, especially the headstrong 13-year-old, who despite his so far athletic, acrobatic, prowess, I could envision slipping over the edge while I watched helpless unable to assist either them in any way. I briefly thought about how I would explain such an occurrence to my wife. As we continued through this set of chains, boulders, and narrow ledges I started to wonder how anyone could enjoy this? I stopped at each location that afforded a more comfortable, stable refuge and took a deep breath, pondering whether or not I really wanted to continue. Through this section I couldn't even look around and enjoy the beautiful scenery. The best I could muster was to focus on the next step immediately in front of me, completely ignoring the cliff edges to the left of me and the steep drop offs to the right. Trying with every ounce of effort I had not to worry about my sons, while at the same time praying that we'd all make it through this safely. I looked for hope from anyone descending. A "you're almost there," or "it's not so bad", or even "it's worth it once you get to the top" were not freely flowing, but I started petitioning people till I got the feedback I desperately needed. My nervous chatter distracted from the fears surrounding me providing minute amounts of calm, much funnier now, looking back. There were many times as I asked people that I hoped they'd say just a few more feet, just over that rock right there. One devastatingly said "you're almost there but you've still got some tough spots before you reach the top." I didn't need that. But it kind of riled me – maybe I did need that. It wasn't nearly as bad as they made it sound. Soon after that we rounded a corner with no more chains in sight. The trail leveled off for another 30 yards or so and that was it.
People were sitting down along the way enjoying this view. We walked till we reached a large group and we couldn't go any further. We made it! I looked down at my watch, our climbing time so far was 1:15, not too shabby. The view was enjoyable, but after a 15 minute rest, some jerky and water, and a few pictures, the schedule needed to be met. I still didn't really enjoy this part, my sons did though. They loved jumping from boulder to boulder, regardless of the proximity to the edge. My 13-year-old, much to my dismay, needed to accomplish every part on his own. Each offer of assistance from my older son was waived off.
My favorite part while descending through this upper section was giving encouragement to those going up, that same encouragement that I so much needed during my own ascent. As we passed through the last section of chains, back to Scout Lookout, I've never been so glad to be "back on the ground" in my life! From here down the sense of accomplishment settled in. I even let gravity coax me into a jog at times, accelerating my descent. Even with stopping a few times to take pictures we crossed the bridge that leads to the shuttle stop at the Grotto after a scant 2:35 total round trip time. I guess I am super, not-so-ordinary, after all.
Was Angels Landing an easy hike? Heck no! Was it terribly difficult? No. But the combination of physical and mental challenges, enhanced by traveling with someone you love, care about, and tend to worry about, make it stand out for me as an accomplishment not soon forgotten. Would I do it again? In a heartbeat.
The life lesson I take away is this: Sometimes life feels perilous, with ultimate doom surrounding us and our loved ones. Worrying about it doesn't help us make any progress, in fact worrying stifles progress. The best thing to do is focus on the very next step required as an individual, hoping and praying that our loved ones will do the same.
A second life lesson is this: once you've overcome a challenge a small, simple word of encouragement to others in a similar challenge of their own, can mean the difference between their success or failure.
