Zion National Park/Angels Landing - Day 4
Angels Landing
Zion National Park
The advice to get an early start on Angels Landing is no joke. By the time we worked our way down from the phenomenal views of the painted cliffs and meandering valley, we were facing down a long line of terrified hikers just inches apart and clinging to the chains. They were packed too tightly to move out of the way for people descending, despite the obvious truth that the more people that descend, the fewer people in their way and the less time they would have to cling to the chains in deadstop traffic. Irony does not affect physics, though, and we were all, those ascending and us on the descent, left with few options.
Photo Credit: Trail to Peak The Adventurous Path
The guys with me (see my blog entitled “A Character Study” for my heavily-biased appraisals of the rest of our crew) were too kind to force their way through. We had been yielding and helping groups all day! After a lengthy silent debate with myself, I finally took what I will call the high road instead of attempting to negotiate with all the clingers to get out of our way so we could get out of theirs. I hopped the chain and butt-scooted my way down, clearing the way for the guys to follow and shamelessly grabbing the chain on top of people’s hands and even in between their legs where necessary.
The rock sometimes reminded me of golden pancakes and our goofy group and I were the melting, sliding butter. In other places, the rock was akin to coin stacks, and we were Scrooge McDucks butt-surfing down stacks toppling in our very own gilded vault.
Being above the chain was precarious and awkward but more exciting than dangerous in most areas. Besides the obvious fun of the extra physical challenge, I was giddily enjoying my own mind games inspired by the glorious setting. I spent, for example, long portions of our descent time analogizing the rock and my role on it then imagining myself becoming as fluid and smooth as my counterparts in the analogies. The rock sometimes reminded me of golden pancakes and our goofy group and I were the melting, sliding butter. In other places, the rock was akin to coin stacks, and we were Scrooge McDucks butt-surfing down stacks toppling in our very own gilded vault. Keeping my movements smooth and swift (as they of course would be were I really butter or Scrooge McDuck) and random enough that people knew I was not trying to cop a feel, I kept the awkwardness of being so intimately close to strangers minimal, I think. I am sure they appreciated that.
It is a great place for people watching—so many types of people worked their way up and down, some vehement and some struggling in their youth, many impressive elderly, and everything in between.
Walter’s Wiggles
But wait, the getting up there part was pretty awesome too. A paved path that begins as a nature walk then zigs and zags up the steep monolith, it is a fun and nontechnical but strenuous jaunt up to a break area, after which only hikers willing to risk the chains continue. Just before the break area is a section called Walter’s Wiggles, which is basically a scribble mark trail on the side of the mountain. So strange looking from afar are Walter’s tight and near vertical Wiggle switchbacks. It is a great place for people watching—so many types of people worked their way up and down, some vehement and some struggling in their youth, many impressive elderly, and everything in between. We were a speedy crew, respectfully but swiftly passing young and old, our legs strong from training and the previous days’ hikes.
The Wiggles open up into a flat area everyone can rest and take in the views. There is, thankfully, a bathroom at the break area as well as an expansive overlook. Despite the early hour, there were plenty of people at the break area enjoying the scenery and perpetually debating (at least internally) whether they would risk going further, up the dangerous chains route required to reach the summit. The knife edge ascent certainly beckons from there, and we heeded the call.
Hiking up the knife edge to the summit is at times a heady experience despite how well-worn each footfall is. The drop-offs are sheer and have been known to claim the lives of people who do not respect them, but the experience is heady enough that deaths are rare. We were careful, of course. Calculated risk is a mainstay of our wheelhouse. Some of us waver between calculation and risk more than others, but we stuck together to be each others’ keepers. That doesn’t mean we did not mix our precautions with a bit of shenanigans, though:
Yay! He lived!
Gazing out at the painted cliffs and serpentine road and river below, it is easy to understand why so many people brave the chains. It truly is beautiful.
At the top of Angels landing, you look down into a painted landscape with grandeur hard to capture in pictures, but we got some pretty good ones. 😊 Gazing out at the painted cliffs and serpentine road and river below, it is easy to understand why so many people brave the chains. It truly is beautiful.
Joshua and I had a pretty wonderful lunch date at the top. We dangled our feet over the edge (it took some coaxing for me to do it, to be honest) and laughed at a chipmunk who was totally parkouring his way around below us, hopeful for a dropped bite of food. Of course, we practice Leave No Trace and support keeping wildlife wild, so there were no tasty nibbles to be had from us. Mr. Chipmunk did eventually find some Skittles, though, presumably not that old considering his careful scouring of the area, and ingratiated himself as a guest during our meal time. We were happy to oblige. 😊
Our motley crew came back together for some laughs at the summit as well, of course. Not until after a nail-biting hour of me watching David prance solo down to the lower cliffs’ edge with his hands in his pockets, though. I was terrified that he would fall, and having his hands tied up in the fabric of his jacket, be unable to catch himself. It is great to laugh at these things after the fact, but the haunting notion of losing a friend on one of these adventures is ever-present. Like anyone, I want the adventure to go on forever. My past has taught me clearly that it will not, though, and it terrifies me to think of that one misstep leading to a fall from which there is no recovery. He did not fall, thank God, and we got this shot, David’s hands on full display.
Shanna Irving is a guest blogger here. She is also a mother, a lover, a teacher, and in all things an adventurer. Her recent adventures have taken her backpacking and hiking throughout the US, and this year will begin her international adventuring with a trip to the glaciers and ice caves of Iceland and to the mountains and plains of South Africa. Writing about it all, too, is an adventure in itself.
The advice to get an early start on Angels Landing is no joke. By the time we worked our way down from the phenomenal views of the painted cliffs and meandering valley, we were facing down a long line of terrified hikers just inches apart and clinging to the chains. They were packed too tightly to move out of the way for people descending, despite the obvious truth that the more people that descend, the fewer people in their way and the less time they’d have to cling to the chains in deadstop traffic. Irony doesn’t affect physics, though, and we were all, those ascending and us on the descent, left with few options…