And that name is Mukuntuweap. At least, it was, until it was changed in 1918 to "Zion." Apparently, the acting director of the National Park Service thought the moniker, which was the original Paiute name, was too foreign and hard to pronounce. At least the name he chose reflected the great reverence for the area that every single group of folks held for it since it was first inhabited.
But I digress. Let's to the adventure part, shall we?
Getting there
Since my trip to Zion National Park was going to take me very close to Nevada's Valley of Fire State Park, I just had to add it into my itinerary. It absolutely did NOT disappoint.
After a long, winding road through a fairly unremarkable parcel of desert, I came over a hill, at the bottom of which stood the entrance gate to the park. Beyond it was my first glimpse at the valley's "fire." A huge swath of gorgeously bright red rock jutted out of the earth, reaching jaggedly skyward. "WOW," I said aloud.
I paid my entry fee, drove a short way in, and then began a long series of constant pulling off the road to shoot the fascinating landscape. I had seen red rock before- plenty of it in Utah, in fact. This was somehow different.
I knew that somewhere in the park was a famously photographed stretch of road that cut right through the middle of the rough, tumbled terrain. I wanted that picture, or one like it. Soon enough, I found that stretch of road, just on the other side of the visitor's center.
Just a short distance further was a small parking lot that was the jumping off point for several trails. I pulled in a took about a billion pictures of the area. Some of the best shots I got were from high atop a narrow piece of rock, where the views stretched deep across the desert. All sorts of shapes, sizes, and colors of rock collided in glorious ways.
A couple more miles down the road, I did a short hike to a feature called "fire wave." It was an area where erosion had exposed alternating red and pink bands of sedimentary layers in the rock, giving it a fiery, flowing appearance. Like much of this landscape, it looked like something from another planet.
The day was wearing on, and I still had a good couple hours drive to make it to Zion, so I skipped a lot of the park and headed out. Still a lot left to explore there if I'm ever passing through again.
By about 6:00, I made it into Springdale, Utah, and checked into my hotel for a good night's sleep before the big day.
The First Morning
It was below freezing that morning, as I knew it would be from weather forecasts. It had also snowed, as predicted. I drew the curtain back for my first daytime look at the canyon. The sun had yet to make it very high, but I could see the soft blanket of white covering the tops of the towering rock faces. Gorgeous.
I almost fell down a couple of times on my way across the parking lot to have breakfast. Before the snow fell, it seems, a nice coating of ice had been laid down by freezing rains. It didn't portend good news for my climb to Angel's Landing.
After a quick and delicious (free!) breakfast, I jumped in my frosty Jeep and headed out to see what was what.
Into the Park
At the entrance gate, I asked the ranger if anything was closed due to the conditions. She said that all the upper trails were not advised, as they had been hit hardest with ice and snow. That included Angel's Landing.
A Snowy Detour
So, I thought, she didn't specifically say "closed." Just not advised. Well, I decided I would judge that for myself.
I drove on into the park, marveling at the snowy wonderland all around. There were so many times I wanted to stop and take a picture, but I really just wanted to get to the trailhead and figure out what I was going to do.
The road took me on and on, winding back and forth up the side of the mountain. Strange, as I would have imagined the trail to start on the valley floor. I became too preoccupied though, with finally giving in and getting some photos to give it much thought. The sunlight was just starting to peek in, and it was undeniably a photo bonanza.
Once I reached the Zion-Mount Carmel Tunnel, I realized I had indeed taken a wrong turn somewhere. There had been a fork in the road a couple miles back, and I probably missed the sign while taking in all the beauty around. I wasn't upset, though. It had been a fantastic detour.
Once I was back on track, I was presented with even more photo opportunities. The beautiful Virgin River wound its way down the canyon to my left, surrounded by snow covered trees and boulders. I desperately wanted to stop, but I was already behind.
I also passed by a rafter of wild turkeys. Not as majestic as a landscape photo, but I still wish I could've grabbed a shot of them.
The Trail to Angel's Landing
Finally, I arrived at The Grotto parking area, which was the starting point for the Angel's Landing trail as well as several others. There were only about four cars in the lot, which wasn't surprising. It was only 27 degrees, and hazardous conditions.
I suited up, stuck my headphones in (adventure playlist, of course), headed across a bridge, and entered the trail.
It was really easy going at first, but, naturally, it got steeper and steeper the further I went. Looming in front of me was all 1500 feet of Angel's Landing. I was determined to see the top of that enormous piece of rock today. Safely determined.
There was nobody on the trail. Total quiet. Someone had been there, though, because there were a couple sets of tracks in the fresh snow. Maybe three sets?
About halfway up the switchbacks, I heard someone approaching me from the rear. I looked below and saw that a guy was gaining on me. One of these "fast hikers," or at least someone in better shape than me. Soon enough, he caught up to me as I was catching my breath in a little nook. We introduced ourselves and commented on how nice it was to have the trail so empty. He, like me, was going to go make his own judgement about how sound the trail was toward the top. "See you up there," I said, and he went on.
Mercifully, the switchbacks ended, and I was back on relatively flat ground. I thought I must be getting close to Scout Lookout, which was the last stop before the beginning of the Angel's Landing ascent. But, then, surprise! MORE switchbacks. A lot more.
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| Stock photo of Walter's Wiggles |
This was the part of the trail known as "Walter's Wiggles." I thought the switchbacks I had already come up were Walter's Wiggles. Nope. These 21 steep inclines I was looking up at were the famous wiggles. And they were covered in a thick layer of ice.
I took my time, stepping very carefully. I made sure every plant of my feet had good purchase before putting weight on it. Even so, about two thirds of the way up, the ice got the better of me and I fell. I fell all the way to the ground and slid on my ass to the bottom of the switchback. It wasn't a dangerous fall, as there was nowhere to go. It was just frustrating. I re-climbed the slippery slope and continued on, eventually topping out the wiggles.
Scout Lookout
The ground then leveled out once more, and I found myself at Scout Lookout. A small sign showed the way to Angel's Landing, which, even at this high point, still towered above. The sign also warned of the potentially fatal risks involved with the climb, moreso during conditions like the ones we were facing today. I say we, because there was my fast hiking trail pal up ahead, talking to a couple who had just come down from Angel's Landing.
I joined the conversation as they were discussing how they only managed to go a slight way up the exposed rock trail before deciding it was too risky. They said there was only a single set of footprints leading up from there. One brave/foolish soul.
So the two of us big dreamers were left there. As I took another moment to rest up before the challenge ahead, he went to check it out. He came back just a couple minutes later and said "Yeah, that looks pretty sketchy."
Now, my idea of sketchy and your idea of sketchy might not necessarily match, so I decided to go have a look for myself.
It looked daunting, yes. It looked challenging. It did not look impossible to me at all. "I'm gonna go for it," I told my companion. "If it gets too bad up there, I'll just turn around." He decided to join, and so off/up we went.
The Ascent
It really wasn't too bad at first. There was a chain bolted into the rock to hold on to in most places. I say MOST. There were a couple of less than ideal spots where a chain would have been nice. The dropoffs on either side of the trail kept getting taller and taller. Some of the sections were so steep, I was relying much more on upper body strength and using the chain like a climbing rope.
Slowly but surely, step by step, foot by foot, we made our way up the narrow fin of snow covered rock. I'm not sure how much time passed, but then...
Angel's Landing
The trail suddenly flattened out. We had made it to the top. We walked across the summit to the northeast face, which overlooks the entire valley.
That view.
I could definitely understand why they called it "Angel's Landing." The view was indescribable, especially with the layer of snow coating everything. Absolutely stunning.
I stayed up there for quite a while, soaking it up, eating some snacks, drinking a little water. Just before I got ready to head down, another group arrived. They all had crampons on their boots and were aghast that we had attempted this climb without them.
The Return
As predicted, the descent was trickier. Putting all my weight on the steep, snowy, now tracked-over and packed down trail made for some unsure footing. I ran into a couple on the trail and managed to find a spot wide enough to stand aside as they passed.
A short distance down from there, though, I fell. A good, solid fall, on a fairly narrow section. I had taken my gloves off, because I was sweating pretty profusely, and my skin had shrunken closer to my bones. This was just enough room for my already slightly loose wedding ring to become extremely loose. It sailed off my hand and into parts unknown. I dug around in the snow for a good long time before I sadly consigned it to oblivion.
At Scout Lookout, a few more people had arrived and were trying to decide whether or not to go on up. The small amount of people who had now ascended had made the entire trail worse. Walter's Wiggles was even more of a packed down icy mess than before. Some folks who had already turned back were opting to just sit down on each leg and slide on their butts. That wasn't helping conditions, either.
Nonetheless, I made it down without incident, past the wiggles, over the flat section, and down the other switchbacks, feeling accomplished the whole way. Toward the valley floor, I saw a herd of elk in the distance. A second snowstorm had begun to move in, and a few tiny flakes began to fall from the sky.
I stopped at the bottom of the trail, on the bridge that crossed the Virgin River, to snap a couple photos. As I pulled out my camera, I somehow knocked the lens cap off, and it fell into the river and was swept away. I cursed the luck, then went to switch lenses for a wider shot. As I did, I dropped the OTHER lens cap, and it, too, rolled right into the river.
Aside from the major loss of the ring, and the minor loss of the lens caps, it had been a rousing success, and I had some gorgeous photos to prove it. Tomorrow, I'd hike The Narrows, another challenging trail.
I'll write about that one in Part 2.
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