The main event in Utah was always supposed to be Zion National Park. There are loads of really cool and unique hiking opportunities, and it was only about a half hour away from our Airbnb in Hurricane. We were staying with a couple of M’s friends from college, and while we were taking an extra long weekend to get through Utah (took both Friday and Monday off), they had to be back to their place in Salt Lake City on Sunday. That meant that Saturday was Zion Day. We woke up early and got to the park by 9AM intending to complete the park’s two most popular hikes, The Narrows and Angels Landing, before the park closed and we had to get back to the pups.

The Narrows

The Narrows came to us with glowing recommendations from several friends. It is the very northernmost part of the park where the walls of the canyon close in around the river, making it – you guessed it – narrow. For this hike, you actually walk up through the river for as many as nine miles, and then turn back. We initially planned to do this trail last because we figured we could just turn back whenever we were getting short on time and catch the last shuttle back to the visitor center.

A quick chat with the nearest park ranger revealed our lack of preparedness for this trail. It was February, and the river was high and cold. We would need to rent dry suits and special dry socks and shoes from a place in town. That wouldn’t be an issue, except that we would have to carry the bulky suits and shoes with us all day on the other trail. We couldn’t keep the equipment in our car because of how the canyon shuttle buses worked – once we returned to the visitor center where we parked, our shuttle ticket became invalid – and we couldn’t get to the trailhead without the shuttle. Shoot! To top it all off, we had a VERY dramatic encounter with the equipment rental employee where he positively insisted that we couldn’t do both Angels Landing and The Narrows in a single day, and all but refused to rent us the gear (terrible business model). We’re pretty sure we were getting a little bit of Chubby Hiker Prejudice from him which has only happened one other time (a state park ranger once correctly guessed, “You two must be here for the Doughboys Trail”) but that one was funny, and this one was annoying.

All of this is to say that we didn’t end up doing The Narrows on this trip to Zion. I’m keeping this section in here though in the hope that we make it back at some point when the water is warmer and we can apply all of our energy to this trail. Oh, and after we completed Angels Landing? Plenty of time to have made it a few miles up The Narrows. We had left it all on the field from an energy perspective, but our party unanimously agreed it could have been done.

Angels Landing

Hooo boy. This one. We really didn’t do too much research ahead of this hike, and I have to say that’s the way to go. Had we known even roughly where the summit was, had we watched a single YouTube clip, had we read more than two total reviews on AllTrails, there is a pretty good chance we wouldn’t have even tried this hike. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Angels Landing is the most strenuous hike in the park. It appears in the park newspaper as:

I’m assuming that normal people would look at those stats and brace themselves for a tough hike. But assuming is all I can do, because as absolute morons, we looked at the listing and said, “How could it possibly take us 4 hours to go 5 miles?? Even with the 1,500ft elevation gain, I bet we get it done in 2.5 hours. Three tops.” Like I said, morons.

To even get to the trailhead for Angels Landing, you need to first hike the West Rim Trail. This accounts for about 1,000ft of your elevation gain, and is basically a switchbacked climb straight up a canyon wall. This portion of the trail ends at Scout Lookout and is itself rated as hard on AllTrails. By the time we got to the lookout, we could have easily taken in the view, felt accomplished, and turned around for the descent, and I applaud everyone who had the good sense to do so. We decided to forge on. Just beyond Scout Lookout is a little posted sign that says, “Since 2004, 10 people have died falling from the cliffs on this route. The 1.1 mile round-trip route from Scout Lookout to Angels Landing is a strenuous climb on a narrow ridge over 1,400 feet above the canyon floor. This route is not recommended during high winds, storms, or if snow or ice is present.” And then way at the bottom in tiny letters, “Your safety is your responsibility.”

Awesome.

This is probably a good time to remind you, Reader, that M is afraid of heights, I love safety, and it was a February day when this trail is best traveled between May and October. Essentially, we were not ideal candidates for the hike, nor were the conditions ideal, although there were no major weather events at the outset that would have given us pause. But we saw a TON of people heading out to the landing, several of whom seemed less prepared (when I tell you I saw people climbing this ridge in canvas skater shoes…) and less cautious (JUMPING from rock to rock!) than us. We figured even if this was an above-average day in terms of attendance, there must be tens of thousands of hikers on this route every year and only ten had fallen to their death. The statistics were in our favor. We made a quick team pact not to be Number Eleven and to keep our wits about us, and we were off.

If you know anything about Angels Landing, you probably know about the chains. They are the most iconic feature of the trail, and the park’s best attempt at a safety feature that doesn’t infringe on the scenery. Personally, I say screw the scenery and install a massive net if you’re going to keep letting people hike this ridge, but I digress. The chains are exactly what they sound like: thick metal links running from post to post most of the length of the ridge. They exist not as a guardrail between you and the drop, but as an anchor to steady and pull yourself up the mountain. More often than not, they rested on the rock itself, and by the end our knuckles were scraped and bleeding from the movement of the chain back into the rock. A fun lesson that we learned is that a chain is not like a railing in that chains buckle and sway and bow as people ahead of and behind you grab on and let go. We had an absolute vice grip on the chains whenever they were available, which, disturbingly, was not always.

The route is along a very narrow spine of a mountainous ridge, with some wider, flatter parts that were you could stop and rest or let people pass. When I say very narrow, I mean single file with no margin for error. Angels Landing is an out-and-back route, not a loop, so this was one of the more difficult aspects of the trail to navigate; you had near-constant two-way traffic on a single lane trail. It required a lot of communicating with strangers and coordinating who stands where, for how long, and with what support. Our squad was happy to take the lead in that department because it allowed us to outline a traffic pattern where we could keep our hands on the chains at all times. There was constant calling up and down the line like a high-risk version of the game Telephone – “How many are in your party?” “Are you comfortable on the edge?” “Is there any space up there to pull over and wait?” “How close are we to the summit?” At the beginning, we weren’t too assertive. We would just try to look as scared as possible (not difficult) when people would pass us so that we could keep hold of the chains. But about midway through the ascent, we lost all shyness and would call out to hikers coming at us, “If you keep ahold of the chains, you’re getting a bear hug because I’m not letting go either!” That part was kind of fun. I liked being Captain of the Mountain.

This was a physically and mentally demanding trail, to say the least. In addition to the small task of walking a sandy balance beam with a 1,500ft drop on either side, we still had more than 500ft of elevation gain to achieve. The ridge dips a bit after Scout Lookout, and then rises pretty steeply toward Angels Landing, so it wasn’t really a hike so much as it was a climb. There were a lot of times where there weren’t great footholds worn into the rock, or they were too far apart for somebody with stubby little leggies (me!), so I found myself using the chains to pull myself up some of the way as well. For someone who doesn’t regularly lift anything heavier than a Mac Book Pro, it was a challenge. And then there was the crippling influence of our anxieties – M’s over the heights, and mine over the death – that kept all of our muscles nice and tense for the entire trek. We each had different coping mechanisms. M tried not to look down, always stayed to the middle of the trail (even on the wider, flat portions), and kept repeating his mantra that there is no difference between falling from 1,000ft back at Scout Lookout and falling from 1,500ft on the way to Angels Landing. I was very focused on not tripping and not talking. The reason I had to focus on these two things is because I trip ALL THE TIME in my regular life (a specialty of mine is falling off sidewalks. Flat sidewalks.), and if I talked at all I knew I would accidentally talk M out of finishing the route by poking holes in the flimsy logic of his mantra.

About three quarters of the way there, I decided it wasn’t worth it to make it to the peak. The views were changing only marginally as we got further and further into the canyon, and I had absolutely nothing to prove. I could feel my legs and arms shaking, and worried that I wouldn’t have enough left in the tank to make it safely back to Scout Lookout if we continued. Plus, the wind had picked up significantly, and the warning from the sign at the trailhead was seared into my brain. That first gust of wind hit us while we were resting on a wider spot on the trail, and in an instinctual effort to lower his center of gravity, M hit the deck so fast I thought he had slipped and fallen of the edge. Not to mention that although M was actually doing really well with the trek given his fear of heights, I was always nervous that the next glance toward the canyon floor was going to be the one to send him into a panic attack or paralyze him with fear, and what would we do then? Call for an air rescue with our zero bars of service? Send a message back with one of the hikers and hope that within five hours a ranger can get to us? No thanks. I relayed my concerns to the group, and was immediately outvoted. Apparently my hiking party didn’t subscribe to the all around best practice of playing to the most cautious person’s comfort level. M wanted to finish the route so he could say that he did it (pride!), and the others in our group didn’t want to make it so far only to turn back right before the peak (sunk cost fallacy!). They offered to have me sit and wait for them, or to turn back on my own and meet them at Scout Lookout, both options that had me separated from my group and alone on The Ridge of Death, the least safe thing you could do. I weighed whether or not to make a bigger fuss about the whole thing and start fighting a little dirtier, but ultimately decided to press on, albeit with a much worse attitude. Team work!

Well, we made it to Angels Landing and none of us fell off the mountain, so that was a huge win. As expected, the views were breathtaking, and you felt like you were right on the edge of the world.

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There was definitely a sense of relief in having made it to the Landing, but it was too soon to celebrate because we still had to get all the way back, and that trip would be even more treacherous than the trip out. For starters, we were more fatigued going this direction. From a cardio and strength perspective, we were drained. It was also tactically more difficult because we had to either climb down the steep slopes blindly feeling for footholds below, or slide down on our butts facing forward and try not to pick up ANY MOMENTUM AT ALL lest it carry us right over the edge. That said, we felt absolutely no urgency on the way back since this was all we had to do that day and could take frequent breaks. And there was a bit of confidence boost that comes with being the folks that have been there and done that, so to speak. When you’re on the way back across the ridge, you are the upperclassmen telling the freshman and sophomores how far it is to the top, and encouraging them when they’ve already made it past the toughest part.

The euphoria didn’t hit until our boots were on solid ground at Scout Lookout. As soon as we knew we were safe, we were giddy with a sense of accomplishment and pride. Even though we still had a 1,000ft descent ahead of us with the West Rim Trail switchbacks, nothing could touch us. There was only a slight blow to our egos when we stopped our Fitbits at the bottom, and the entire route had taken us 4hrs almost on the nose.

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Do I recommend this trail? No. Would I ever hike it again? Also no. Am I glad I did it? Yes, but only with the benefit of hindsight. The only reason I have any positive sentiment at all toward this hike is that I know we survived it. I can’t make that guarantee to anyone else or even myself on another pass, so I definitely don’t recommend this trail. It was easy to get swept up in the hikers high after completing the route, but I also want to honor my feelings from the mid-point in the hike. When we got to Angels Landing proper, all I saw was a really imbalanced risk vs reward equation, and I remember thinking that it wasn’t worth it. If we are ever back in Zion and I can’t talk the rest of the group out of hiking Angels Landing, I will happily have a picnic at Scout Lookout alone or take one of the easier scenic rim trails while I wait for them to return. As M said, the best part about Angels Landing is that we never have to hike it ever again.

All of that might sound a bit dramatic, but less than a week after our visit to the park, a man fell to his death at Angels Landing. And eight days before our hike, a different man fell to his death from a buttress on the trail leading up to Angels Landing. So within two weeks, that trail racked up two casualties, and our hike was smack dab in the middle of them. You can play the probabilities all you want, but those incidents were much too close for comfort.