It’s my last day in Zion National Park, and I still haven’t done the one hike I came to do.  I had my sights set on the Angel’s Landing hike since last August, when I made plans to join the Red Rocks Gang in Southern Utah.   But I psyched myself out that I “wasn’t ready.”   For one reason or another, I haven’t been in the right frame of mind to attempt this hike since I arrived.   Conditions need be just right….weather that is cool but not rainy, a mid-week day with light crowds, and an opening when the rest of the gang is taking a day off or riding their mountain bikes, so I won’t miss out on a hike with the gang to a destination I have not yet seen.    But once I realize time is running out, it’s already too late….the Thanksgiving crowds are pouring into Zion like a Travel Trailer Parade of Homes.

I could wait until after the holiday, but the last remaining gang members are leaving tomorrow.  I don’t really feel comfortable doing the hike alone, knowing I am now truly “alone”…..meaning no friends left in the park to initiate the Search and Recovery efforts.     So, my last remaining window is anything but ideal; the cloudy, cold Sunday after Thanksgiving.   Go now, or forever hold your peace.

I already know I have no “takers” on this hike.  Those who have a desire to do it have done it already, and those who have no desire…..well…. I am not going to be the one to talk them into it.     So I send Mark and Bobbie an email titled, “Going for it.”  I explain the basis of my decision being “The risk is not in failing, the risk is in not trying, so I am going to attempt a landing with the Angels…I would hope if I fall to my death at 1,500 ft, someone would notice, but if you don’t hear from me by later today, you will know (sorta) where to find me.”  😉

Within minutes, Mark writes back to say he is offering his guide services “as an insurance policy, you know…support raises the chances of success.”   I know this to be true, however I also know that Mark has his own “monkey” to deal with today.  It is also his last day in the park, and he needs another ride up Flying Monkey Mesa…something about “clearing his head” and testing his blood thinner meds.  So I reassure him I will be fine, that “Everyone should get to do exactly what they want to do on their last day in Zion.”   To this, he replies, “What a terrible world where people only do what they most desire…It sounds selfish.  Get your ass over here and pick me up. :)”    I disagree, but who am I to argue?  In fact I am both relieved as well as grateful to Bobbie for loaning him out on a day when he should be helping her do laundry!

We all have different levels of fear.  For me, it is climbing a freakishly narrow ridge-line with 1,500 drop on either side, knowing one misstep will mean certain death.  For Mark, it appears to be riding in my 1994 Tracker with no airbag, with the potential for “bleeding out” should he go through the windshield.  He reluctantly folds his 6’4” frame into the front seat with his knees under his chin, and bids Bobbie a farewell fitting of a widow-in-the-making.

Angel’s Landing hike has a reputation of being the most dangerous hike in Zion National Park, with five people having met their death while attempting the climb.  But in fact, the more popular Emerald Pools hike is more deadly, claiming seven lives from slips and falls.  But the steep, narrow, intimidating trail of Angel’s Landing offers a much more dramatic threat just by nature of its chain-link handrails.

Although the treacherous part is less than one mile in distance, one has to work to get there.   The trail up to Scout’s Lookout is a long, tedious uphill schlep, with numerous switchbacks.  Having Mark there for conversation makes the repeat of this climb much more tolerable.   We reach Scout’s Lookout in what seems like no time at all, with the conversation punctuated by only a few stops to catch my breath.

I figure Scout’s Lookout will be the perfect place for a break; to regroup and perhaps grab a bite to eat, rest, and mentally prepare for what lies ahead.  But Mark shows no sign of slowing.   I ask, “Aren’t we gonna stop?”   He informs me, “Sometimes with a hike like this, it is better to keep going while you are warmed up and not thinking about it too much.”   “Okay, you know best, Sensei….lead the way!”

My strategy is to stay focused on the Size 14 New Balance trail runners in front of me, though Mark’s stride is not as easy to follow as that of my favorite “Navajo guide” Bobbie.   His legs are much longer than mine, and all too soon, I find I am struggling to keep pace.   But he stops often to turn around and make sure, like the Cowardly Lion on the way to see the Wizard, I have not turned back or jumped off the edge!  😉

The first third of the climb is relatively easy, though the “chained” areas start fairly soon after Scout’s Lookout.  I am feeling pretty comfortable as I reassure myself aloud, “I’m okay.  I’m really, really okay.”  But then, Mark stops in front of me, turns around and says, “Okay, for this next part of the climb, I don’t want you to look, okay?   Just stay focused on my feet and follow me.  There will be time for looking and taking photos further up.”   (GULP!) I know we are about to enter the ridge line that looks like a dragon’s backbone.

Everyone reacts to extreme fear in different ways.  For some, it is stone silence.  For others, nervous laughter.  For me?  I sing.   Sing out loud.  Sometimes I am not even cognizant of it until my nerves have calmed, and then it is always interesting to reflect back on the lyrics of the song that comes out.   As I watch the increasing distance between me and the feet in front of me, P!nk’s “Please Don’t Leave Me” is playing on a continuous loop in my head.  “I always say how I don’t need you, but it’s always gonna come right back to this…Please, please, don’t leave me!”

Soon, we stop and turn around to look back at the sliver of trail we just traversed, and my knees go weak.   I realize how fortunate I have been so far to have perceptual narrowing!  I am grateful for the chance to get grounded near a sturdy tree trunk so I can have a look around and try to enjoy the view.  Mark’s coaching is very helpful as he urges me to lean into the mountain, maintain at least three points of contact, lean forward when I straighten up so I am not thrown off balance, and most importantly, remember to “BREATHE!”

We reach an area of flat rock with a 90 degree drop below.  It is the first place where we have stopped so close to the edge, and Mark encourages me to look over, as it is possible to see nothing but air between my feet and the Scenic Parkway 1,500 ft below.   He tells me I have passed the test, so like Mario Bros, we can now move on to the next level.

The topography begins to level out, and the colors of the rock beneath my feet have changed.  The red sandstone is replaced with flat, white rock as the crest of the climb levels out.  I know we are nearing the top.  Our luck runs out on what has been blessedly light crowds up to this point, as we weave amidst the seated to find a spot to rest and enjoy the 360 degree views.

Adrenalin is coursing through my veins, and I am flying as high as the angels for whom the landing is named.    I hesitate to celebrate too early, though, as I am only halfway there….I still have to make it back down!   And history has proven that going down can often times be more daunting than the climb up.

The Sunday morning crowds are now starting to make their way up the mountain as we start to head down.  There are very few US tourists, as everything from Chinese to French to Indian dialects can be heard from passing climbers.   It is my own stereotype that says some tourists don’t have our same “spacial referencing” when it comes to personal space, and this causes me challenges as I begin to descend.   I can hear loud Asian voices bearing down fast on my heels, which makes me uneasy.  I realize I have no fear of where I am, but rather fear of being knocked off the mountain by those less respectful, less cautious, and too close.   I don’t have a fear of heights, but I do have a fear of falling.  😉  But within minutes, it seems, we are sharing”low fives” on Scout’s Lookout.

It feels good to have this “monkey” off my back.  Having goals is a blessing and a curse.   On one hand, I take some grief at operating from such a structured focus as a list.  But on the other hand, it gives me something to reach for, to stretch and grow.   Were it not for a “bucket list” with Angel’s Landing on it, I may have never left the trails around my beautiful boondocking spot.   I am all about life being the journey, not the destination.  But for me, sometimes having a destination doesn’t cheat life, it enhances it.   I hope I never forget the feeling of elation and accomplishment I felt at the top of the trail ending at a destination named for the Angels!

Thanks to my Sensei, Guide Noir and Postcard Photographer Extraordinaire, Box Canyon Mark.  See his account of the hike here.

“You told me once that we shall be judged by our intentions, not by our accomplishments. I thought it a grand remark. But we must intend to accomplish – not sit intending on a chair.”
― E.M. Forster, Where Angels Fear to Tread