Zion NP & Angels Landing

Nov 23, 2021

Arriving in Zion through the East Entrance Tunnel

We intended to drive from Bryce Canyon NP to Zion NP through the East entrance. That entrance features a tunnel built by the WPA in 1930, an engineering feat of its day. The tunnel is shaped like a bullet hole, high in the middle with sloping sides.

If we had done better research, we would have known that our truck camper, though small by RV standards, is too tall to fit through this tunnel. Well, we can fit if we go down the very center. Amazingly enough, the NPS provides a “tunnel escort” — i.e. changes the traffic from two-way to one-way so we can safely pass through — for a mere $15.

When the ranger explains this, I feel chagrined and ask if we should drive to a different entrance. The ranger, who is exceptionally pleasant, laughs and says, “With the price of gas these days, no.” 

Camping Logistics

Zion’s campground is closed during the winter so our only option is a private campground. We choose the closest one, called Zion Canyon Campground, which is in Springdale, the town at the south entrance to the park. 

The campground is about a mile from the park entrance and costs $67 for a site without amenities. That’s the most we’ve ever paid for camping but that’s how it is. Plus, there’s a very nice shower and we each get a token for six minutes of hot water, which sounds luxurious. Also, the woman behind the desk offers us one of their overflow parking spaces the next day, which will save us the daily $40 parking fee at Zion.  

Why Angels Landing Is Famous

Here’s how a brochure describes Angels Landing: “This epic hike winds its way up steep switchbacks, through Refrigerator Canyon, up Walter’s Wiggles (27 more switchbacks) to Scout’s Lookout. From here you can see Angels Landing, specifically the chain section.”

I’ve wanted to hike Angels Landing ever since I heard of it during a family trip in December of 2014. At that time all four of us hiked as far as Scout’s Lookout and then attempted the first section of chains. But the rocks were snowy and icy and the trail didn’t feel safe. We turned back. (It’s one thing to risk my own life, but I’m not risking my daughters’ lives!)

Here’s a photo of our family at Scout’s Lookout in 2014. It’s not a technically great photo but you can glimpse the joy that inspired this return trip.

The chain sections are famous for good reason. Very few amateur hikers will have an opportunity to traverse something as scenic, thrilling, and dangerous as this. Honestly, I find it rather amazing that the NPS even allows people to do this hike. People really do fall off and die. Just google it if you like.

An Early Start

We are up early to get the rig moved, then walk the mile to the park entrance. By 8:35 we’re through the gates and waiting to take a park shuttle to the trailhead.

The map at the trailhead gives a sense of what’s to come. The icon of a person slipping gives a clue as to the stakes.

The long switchbacks are steep but the day is young, even if we are not. We are happy to be here. Since we got an early start, the trail is not yet full of hikers. 

Along the way, people stop to rest. You might pass a resting group only to later see them pass while you rest. It’s a game of leapfrog. 

We keep seeing a group of four young people, of Asian descent, who are very polite. As I pass I say something cheerful like, “See you in a minute!” One of the men laughs quite a lot. After that we smile and joke each time we pass each other. (I am channeling my father when I behave in this way.)

Here’s another photo of our family from 2014, taken while resting at the top of the long switchbacks.

Refrigerator Canyon

After the long switchbacks, we enter Refrigerator Canyon, a narrow passage between rock walls. Because it’s perpetually in shade, it’s cool. It’s also a fairly gentle slope, the last easy stretch. 

Walter’s Wiggles

After Refrigerator Canyon is an ascent called Walter’s Wiggles. According to Wikipedia: “The wiggles are named after Walter Ruesch, who was the first superintendent for Zion National Park and constructed the switchbacks in 1926.”

Also, remember the group of four with whom we are playing leapfrog? At one point along Walter’s Wiggles we are all breathing heavily as I promise that I will take their picture at the summit.

This photo is from the top of Walter’s Wiggles.

Scout’s Lookout

After Walter’s Wiggles you come into a flat area called Scout’s Lookout. People spread out, eat their lunch, and enjoy the view. Many turn around at this point. 

The First Chain Section

Beyond Scout’s Lookout come the chains. Here’s one more photo from December 2014, from the first section of chains. You can see the patches of snow. What you can’t see as well is the ice.

I’m so grateful that on this return trip, in November 2021, the temperature is quite brisk but the rocks are dry.

We’ve arrived at the chains around 11:00. I quickly don my second layer, an insulated nylon jacket that happens to be plaid. As I grab onto the cold steel for the first time, I’m grateful that I also pocketed a pair of stretchy, thin gloves.

Here are two photos to give a feel for the first section of chains.

As we begin to ascend, a family with three small children is coming down. The parents have obviously changed their minds. The mother seems terrified. The father has tied one end of a long winter scarf around the waist of the youngest child, and the other end to himself. As the family of five inches their way down, a bottleneck forms in both directions. Nevertheless the other hikers show great patience.

Let me note that all day long, every hiker showed civility in this unusual and challenging circumstance. People often apologized as they passed or caused others to wait. The reply would be “No worries” or “Take your time.” I cannot recall even one instance of rudeness or rushing. 

Of course, some fit young people tripped past us like mountain goats, apologizing as they briefly touched the chain before bounding along. God bless them!

The Second Chain Section

After we make it through the first section, we can see further ahead — a line of ants crawling up the opposite mountain. I definitely gasp at this point. I suddenly have a very clear memory as to Why we turned around in 2014 — we saw this ahead!

I rethink all the life choices that have brought me to this moment.

At this point we are more exposed and the wind is very strong and cold. Doug doesn’t have gloves, so I give him one of mine. The chain is our lifeline but it is icy cold. Now when we switch hands (the chain is not always on the same side) I have to switch the glove to the other hand.

But swapping gloves is a triviality. What is not trivial is the height. If I look down, I glimpse the road, far, far below, or even worse, a void. Check out the road in the picture below.

Since the traffic goes two ways on one chain, at times you have to let go so people can pass. Letting go terrifies me.

One couple in line near us has an infant. The man has it strapped to his chest, facing out. The baby’s little bare feet flail. Now it begins to wail and cry. The mother coos into its face as we wait in various spots. Doug says to me, low, “I bet that baby’s cold. Maybe a wet diaper.”

I love the dad in him.

At the Summit

After we climb up a long stretch of chains, we reach a flat spot. We take a breather and enjoy the amazing view.

Guess who arrives just moments after we do? Sure enough, it’s our leap-froggers. I take their photos. The view is fabulous and they are radiant. The jolly fellow insists on taking a photo with us included. 

I notice that the mother is nursing her baby. All is well.

After the euphoria of thinking we’re on the summit, I suddenly realize that the trail continues. We are not there yet. We are still here.

Some people call this a false summit. Personally, I don’t prefer that term. It’s not fair to the rock. What did this summit do to earn the epithet “false”?

Still, I get it. We feel like we’ve arrived, only to discover there’s more ahead. My surge of high mood drops low in a flash.

I thought this climb would be a physical challenge, but it’s really a mental one.

Time to keep going.

The wind is strong. I don’t look ahead. I don’t look down. I try not to think too much.

But I do have to remind myself not to look down. Sometimes I say aloud, under my breath, “Ruth, take a step.” 

And I do.

In my defense, we are the oldest people around.

At the (Real) Summit

And then at some point, the last step is the last step!

I feel euphoric. We turn in place, enjoying a 360 degree view. 

I say to Doug “This is as close as I’ll ever get to summiting Mt. Everest.” It’s a ridiculous comparison but I know he understands. I have such a sense of accomplishment and wellbeing.

I feel completely grateful, and that includes a strong sense of the privilege that landed me here. I have the leisure time to travel. I have the money to buy a rig and pay expensive camping fees. I have health— a strong heart, willing muscles, and joints that still bend. And besides all that, I have a husband who is a travel partner, healthy, happy and able. And still loving me.

Strangers take photos for strangers. We all laugh and smile and shake our heads like, “Can you believe this?”

A group of people sings Happy Birthday to a woman we’ve seen all along the trail. She seems truly surprised. “Can you believe this?” she keeps saying.

At some point we sit down and eat our sandwiches.

As I take in the beauty around me, I notice our leapfrog friends eating lunch on a ledge below us, and snap a photo:

By the way, beware the chipmunks on the summit. They are over-the-top aggressive. There are scads of them, darting everywhere to raid people’s snacks. They’re fast and cute, yes, and lots of people feed them.

But if I were to trip over a chipmunk and plunge off the rock face, well — wouldn’t that be one helluva way to die!

The Descent

In many ways the descent is more difficult than the ascent. I hate to say that. Don’t let it deter you from making the journey. But going down means you must look down. Plus it’s always easier to gauge your footing when going up.

A lot of people don’t realize that on a muscle level, going up is easier than going down. It’s the cardio level that makes up more difficult.

Bucket List

At one point I have to pass a line of people who are waiting for us to pass so they can ascend. I make eye contact with the woman at the head of the line and she makes some comment like — “Now you can cross this off your bucket list.” 

I stumble after that and she says “Take your time.” 

I feel irritated because it was her quip that made me stumble. Her bucket-list comment ruffled me, although Why was too much for me to absorb in the moment.

Since then I’ve thought about it. Even though I’m a goal-setter, I don’t like bucket lists. Partly because I don’t like the notion of attaining certain status markers to measure my life’s success. I don’t need more pressure, not at this stage of life. But even more, I don’t like the notion of doing something to cross it off a list. That perspective does not feel replete with gratitude. And to me, now, gratitude is everything.

Back to Scout’s Lookout

For those of you interested in the timing of this hike, we returned to Scout’s Lookout around 1:00 — we had been up and back on the chain sections in about two hours.

As we recovered in Scout’s Lookout, a woman who looked about a decade younger than myself asked me if I’d done the hike. I said Yes, and she was surprised. She was with two men, and the fellows ribbed her about waffling about whether to try it. They said that, after all, she had hiked Kilimanjaro.

“Really!” I said. “If you did that, you can do this.”

“Oh Kili was just walking, not like this.”

“If I can do it, you can do it,” I said. “I turn 64 next week.” (Technically my birthday was 10 days away.)

She seemed shocked and made comments about not looking my age.

“Wait,” I said. “Did I just age-shame you?”

“You did!”

I felt bad about what I’d said. I wish I could tell you whether or not she decided to make the climb, but when I left she was still deciding.

Our Leapfrog Friends

Heading toward Walter’s Wiggles for the descent, we see our leapfrog friends again. Now we are all very relaxed and take time to chat for a bit.

Doug asks how they know each other. Are they in school?

The jolly fellow laughs and says he’s much too old for school, he’s over 30. They met online over their shared interest in travel. They’re from all over the country. (In my notes later that day I wrote that two were from Texas and one from Boston, but I missed the fourth one.) 

When I tell them I’m a pastor and an author, they have many questions. (Sometimes that fact makes people curious, other times it shuts down conversation.) It seems they come from conservative religious traditions and are curious about a woman who is also a faith leader. Doug happens to have one of my business cards in his wallet, which he gives to one of the women. She notices the book title, “The #MeToo Reckoning: Facing the Church’s Complicity in Sexual Abuse and Misconduct.” So then the six of us have an extended conversation about the evil of sexual abuse. As one does, with strangers, standing in the elbow of one of Walter’s Wiggles.

Ninety minutes later we have descended to the trailhead and are waiting for a shuttle. We ride the whole park loop, to admire the views, and then return to the park entrance.

Afterward — Sand Hollow SP

For those of you interested in logistics — we opted not to camp in Springdale again. We are back in our rig and on the road by 2:30 or so, headed toward Sand Hollow SP. We drive west into the setting sun, which is unpleasant, arriving around 5:00 (including a meal break). I don’t know that we would camp at Sand Hollow again. There was a lot of OHV (Off-Highway-Vehicle) activity, plus a strong wind and blowing sand.

We did stop for a hot meal, in LaVerkin, at the Stage Coach Grille. In front of the restaurant was a life-size sculpture of a stage coach, complete with a tomahawk-wielding Indian sneaking up the back. Yikes. I won’t show you a picture of that, but here’s Doug looking quite content, as I glimpsed him, framed by the window.

What a day! Such a privilege! My heart brims remembering it all.

Thanks for reading — leave a comment as to your experience with Angels Landing!

Next time — Las Vegas and boondocking by Lake Mead.