My hiking boots have done hundreds of kilometres, and now, with the sand, sweat, dirt, and over the years, water from rain, puddles, and rivers, they are starting to smell. After quitting the Kaibab Trail, and before my drive to Zion, I have to wash my feet. It feels deliriously good to be in sandals. It’s always a good idea to start a new adventure with clean feet.
I know I won’t have a chance to camp at the Zion’s campgrounds, but I drive through the park anyways, just to make sure – it’s not a waste of time because the drive is awesome, but there are several signs that say campgrounds are full, there isn’t a single parking spot in the park’s main area, and there are a few traffic jams caused by people, not animals. Cars are pulled over and parked on the sides of all roads – it looks messy.
Not too far from Zion, along Hwy 14, there are some BLM campgrounds, but these too, are full. Fortunately, I’m not too bummed out, because there is a storm brewing, and it’s nice to see clouds and the sun’s beams hidden away for a while.
I drive on. And on. Soon, I am getting antsy. I don’t want this day to turn into a day of campground hunting. After several kilometres, I am back near Kanab, where I drove through earlier this morning. I find camping at a lovely Ponderosa Grove Campground, close to Coral Pink Sand Dunes State Park, and a 70km drive to Zion. My tent is surrounded by juniper trees and bushes. Best of all, it is $5 a night, and the small campground’s sites are only half full. I book 3 nights, pitch my tent, sit and spend the rest of the evening reading. I read until the sun goes down and the book gets so close to my nose, that my eyes can eventually no longer focus on the words; I am too comfortable to get up and get my flashlight to read. What forces me to bed is the early start I’ll have to have to get to Zion and skip the masses – after all, tomorrow is a Sunday.
It a good thing that there are others at the campground who are going to Zion early because their car is what wakes me up. I don’t use an alarm clock because I’m always up early, but this morning I am so cozy in my tent, with the night rain, the cool air, and the warmth inside my sleeping bag, that I might have slept until the ludicrously late hour of 9am – much too late if I’m to enjoy Zion. I roll out of the sleeping bag, put on my hiking clothes, and I’m in the car, rubbing sleep away from my eyes as I drive towards the rising sun.
Most of the traffic into Zion comes from the east, Springdale, where many of the motels, hotels, resorts and RV campgrounds are located just outside the park entrance; luckily, I’m arriving from the west, so the drive is leisurely and pleasant, weaving in and out of the cut slickrock. The eastern side of Zion is slickrock, layered colours of various orange and beige hues, its edges looking like a layered crepe cake. During the day, the drive through the mile long tunnel is monitored, one lane passing through at a time, but in the morning, before the traffic, there is no wait and both lanes are open. I park at the Visitor Centre, near the picnic tables and have breakfast. Now that I’ve got a coveted parking spot at Zion, that’s not on the road or some pull-out, or worse yet paid-parking in Springdale, I can relax.
It’s the high season. Zion has a park shuttle that you have to take if you want to drive up to the hikes and scenic spots – no passenger vehicles are allowed in the park proper. Though it is only 8 am, there is already quite a line up for the shuttle buses. I don’t wait too long – the buses are frequent and the line keeps moving, but if I have to wait in a 20 min line up at 8 am, I wouldn’t want to be in a line up here past 10 am. By the time I finish breakfast, the car park is already full; soon park staff will close the entrance and post signs that all car parks are full.
My intention is to hike Angel’s Landing, but due to a storm that came through about a month ago, the trail is closed, and will be for up to a year. Fortunately, there are lots of other hikes.
I drive the shuttle all the way to the end, the Riverside Walk where the famous Narrows walk begins. Narrows is a river trail: you hike the river upstream, and depending on the weather and rains, the river will be shin deep, with places where you may have to wade or swim across. When I get to the place where people are starting their river walk, I perch on a rock and watch. I’d love to do this walk, but not alone, surrounded by a mass of strangers. Most people step into the river, walk a few feet, take a photo and return, but I’m not eager to get my hikers wet for that photo op. I could take my shoes off, but the water is very cold, the rocks slippery, and there is a mass audience if I were to fall.
There are many people who look like they may continue the walk: they’ve rented appropriate water footwear from the outfitters, but they are still in jean shorts and tank tops, so I doubt they’ll be doing any swimming. Regardless, a flash flood is possible. Why risk it? So I watch, then walk the river bank back to the shuttle stop, stopping in shady places by the river where people are not. I’ll come back another summer and do the Narrows.
I hike up to the Hidden Canyon. At first I just think it’s a hike full of switchbacks, on paved trail, and I’ll get to the top and look into some canyon. But after a steep ascent, the trail changes. A narrow, often uneven trail hugs the cliffside with a wild drop down. There is a chain rope you can hang onto, and I find the need too. The sand on the rock makes the path slippery, and thus dangerous. The walk then weaves into a slot canyon, and there is lots of scrambling and bouldering across rocks to get deeper into the canyon. I’m on my hands and knees, I’m sliding down on my bum, I’m finding foot holes, and with other hikers, we look and discuss the best way to keep going. It is great fun. At one point, above me, I hear a loud rumble, like boulders or rocks falling through a forest, heading for me.
I panic. I stop. What do I do? There’s nowhere to go.
Out of the forest, stopping right at the canyon’s ledge above me, are two horned sheep.
Suddenly, I get to a “the trail ends here” sign.
The afternoon gets hotter, and the park busier. I have my packed lunch, and take a shuttle into Springdale. Springdale is for resort people, but just outside of the park is a brew pub where I get a very sour pomegranate ale, and onion rings: I’m craving something oily. The onion rings are a side dish so I expect a small tub with maybe 5 onion rings. Instead, I get a tub as a big as a dinner plate piled with them. I devour them all.
I’m back in my shaded ponderosa campground by sunset, and read until my eyes give up. This time, though, I set an alarm for an early start to tomorrow.
Since yesterday’s routine worked, I do the same thing today. Up early, rubbing my eyes awake and driving to Zion to get a parking spot. I start with the Watchman Trail that leaves from the visitor centre – no shuttle needed. It’s a lovely trail, uphill to some great views. The sun is still rising, so much of the trail is in the shade, for which I am grateful. Having been in the hot sun for a few weeks now, I take the shade with much pleasure. As the sun rises, it gleams on the mountain edges, their colours coming to life.
When I am ready for the shuttle to take me into the park, the line curves all the way to the park store and I cannot bear to waste my time in a line full of people. So, I walk the Pa’rus Trail to the park’s first stop. The trail to the museum takes about 15 to 20 min, in the hot sun, but it’s worth the effort: I could have spent more than 30 min in a line for a bus surrounded by noise. The walk is good for another reason – I get to cool in the air conditioned auditorium and watch a film about Zion; also, there are only 3 people at the shuttle stop and we get on a shuttle immediately.
The rest of the walks are easy. Many people get off the shuttle, step into the scenic area, take a few photos and get back on, but it is worth exploring each place a bit. On one hike I make my way to the Virgin River where I’m joined by some wild turkeys out for their breakfast jaunt.
In the afternoon, I drive and explore the park’s east side, the better side I think. It’s quieter, there are fewer people, there’s no shuttle service so you can make your own adventures, and there is plenty of the colourful slickrock to play on.
Before the sun sets, I drive past my campground to the Coral Sand Dunes State Park. It’s abandoned and beautiful.
Back at the campsite I read: at the end of a busy day, when you’re fed, holding a cold brew, and sitting in the waning sun, it’s marvelous to read a good. It feels so good to wrap myself in a fleece blanket, sit in my camping chair, curl up and read until a thousand stars begin to light up the sky.
So far, I’ve seen two shooting stars on this trip, but never been quick enough to make a wish. The trip has been magnificent so far, so no wishes come to mind. What could I want other than this? Meeting hikers, spending a night with bikers, hiking, reading, waking up outside and walking?
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