Las Vegas had been the unofficial half-way point in our 30 day trip. After about two weeks of mostly camping, we spent the weekend in exponentially increasing extravagance, culminating in our amazing stay at the Bellagio. After a reluctant checkout in the marble lobby, we were back on the road. As we drove, the signs of civilization steadily faded, and before long we were back in a desert broken only by an occasional rest stop. Our destination for the day was Zion National Park, home to beautiful canyons and cliffs. Cruising on Rt. 15, we crossed through the northwest tip of Arizona and into Utah.
Excuse my digression as we explore some thoughts on Utah. First, compare these two screenshots taken on the same scale. Note the green area in Utah; it represents land dedicated to National Parks, Forests and Recreation areas. I don't have actual figures, but I'd say this area in Utah is at least equal to the total surface area of NJ. We just barely skimmed the bottom of this massively reserved state, and based on the beauty we saw there I can only imagine what the rest holds in store. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Before long, we were snaking along the edge of a mountainside as we descended into the lowered elevations surrounding Zion Canyon. From what we had read, this park was somewhat different from the others in the sense that free shuttles provided all transportation in the canyon. There was even an external shuttle that ran from the adjacent town into the park where the intrepid traveler would switch onto one of the internal shuttles. The book suggested to take this external shuttle in as parking was limited to the visitor's center just inside the park boundary. We decided to gamble, and luckily found a parking spot. After perusing the visitor's center for a bit, we filled up on water and wandered out into the somewhat oppressive heat. We were equipped with sun hats and our versatile water-proof sandal type shoes (like Tevas with an enclosed toe) since we expected to be wading through some streams. We hopped on the bus, occupied by two guys our age, one of which sported a ridiculously huge beard. The ride was narrated, and explained that the vertical red sandstone cliffs in the narrow valley were a rare phenomenon, and had been cut out by the Virgin River, which wound its way through the increasingly narrow and intricate valley system ahead of us.
Allow a brief geological detour to explain just how amazing this particular canyon network is. Zion canyon was formed like all others, a river slowly started to erode the soft sedimentary rock over thousands of years. Geologic uplift increased the elevation of the surrounding area by 10,000ft which caused the streams to run faster and therefore erode faster. At the same time, the uplift caused cracks in the plateau, which gave rise to narrow tributary fissures that emptied into the Virgin River canyon. The rate of erosion of the main canyon was faster than the tributaries, so as the main riverbed sunk, all of its tributaries turned into waterfalls that still decorate the sides of the canyon. The result of all this rapid erosion was an immensely beautiful red sandstone corridor, as narrow as 20ft across, as high as 2,000ft tall, with walls that are nearly vertical, surrounded by a maze of narrow offshoots, and extensively ornamented with waterfalls. On top of all that, the main canyon is mostly navigable by foot. Some parts have actual banks and almost all of the rest is shallow enough to walk or wade through. I love streams, and this is possibly the king of all streams.
We continued driving through the wide part of the canyon towards a rock formation called the Temple of Sinawava, which was a holy place to the Paiute Native Americans. The temple is where the canyon really starts to get narrow, and thus the last stop on the bus loop. We exited the bus along with the two somewhat sketchy looking younger guys, and started our hike along the riverwalk trail. We casually walked in the soft, silty red clay sand next to the Virgin River, which was only 20ft wide this far up into the canyon. Also along the way we saw a gigantic, lazy ground squirrel just hanging out.
Somewhere along the trail was another interesting phenomenon we had only first seen in this part of the country. I don't know the name for it, but in some of these porous sandstone cliffs, water-columns can actually seep down into the heart of the cliffs from the plateaus above, descending until they hit a vein of a harder rock. Once this happens, the water accumulates and starts flowing laterally until it eventually finds the side of the cliff from inside the formation. The water then slowly seeps out of the bare cliff face. We stood on the trail marveling at the result of this uncommon water feature, which gives rise to ferns and mosses all clinging to the sheer rock in a sort of vertical garden, a waterfall of plant life. Unfortunately, I didn't get a good photo of the first one, but these hanging gardens are a beautiful sight found throughout the trail, and we saw several more as we wound deeper and deeper into the canyon. Keep your eyes peeled in the other photos.
It slowly became apparent that the high canyon walls were getting closer and closer to each other. Though several hours from sunset, they eclipsed the sun much earlier than level ground, much the same as we had experienced in Yosemite. Before long we were at the end of the riverside walk trail, the terminus of which is the beginning of the Zion Narrows.
The Narrows is the most famous part of Zion National Park. A whole 1/3rd of the 11 mile hike is completely submerged under the Virgin River (more during high water) which hikers have to wade, and sometimes even swim. This hike was the reason I wanted to go to Zion National Park, it's basically hiking + streams which always = awesomeness. There were a decent number of people milling around, most returning to the start of the trail rather than just embarking. After a few moments of standing on the bank and looking down the river, which forked dramatically out of sight only a few hundred yards away, Pri and I slowly started out into the water. It was only a foot deep but with a swift current and rocky footing. It took a few moments to acclimate to the icy icy cold water, a signature of pretty much all rivers out west. Oh, and by acclimate I really mean our feet steadily became too numb to feel the pain. We quickly zig-zagged across to another bank, and after a short walk on dry land, we delved back into the freezing water.
The walk progressed that way for the next twenty minutes or so, until eventually we came to a spot with two very small patches of dry land. The canyon narrowed in the next hundred feet to about 30ft across and the floor was completely submerged. We paused here for two reasons:
1) about 200ft ahead, the canyon walls were seeping water, which reflected the golden-red light of its surroundings and set up the immensely convincing illusion of gilded rock.
oh and...
2) as the people in front of us walked further down the canyon towards the narrow spot, they suddenly sunk down past their waists into the frigid water.
We stood marveling at the sight of the glimmering walls as the water trickled down. I knew that Pri was not all that excited about plunging waist deep into the water, but this part of the hike was the whole reason I had come to Zion. I traded cameras with Pri (since hers is waterproof), made sure she had a nice dry spot to hang out, then dashed off promising I wouldn't be long. Every step I took forward dropped me down another few inches vertically. I braced and passed through the deepest part of the submersion, half my body tingling with cold and the current slowing me more than ever. After a few seconds the ground started to rise again and I fought up the hill and back to a more sane depth.
I turned and waved to Pri and hurried off around the bend down the canyon. Most of the other hikers had chosen the deep spot as an ideal turn around point, so there were far less people here. After a few minutes, I turned a corner to see a beautiful cascade tumbling down the cliff face. I wanted to yell back at Pri and urge her to think twice about braving the water, but the twisting nature of the path had put her out of sight and earshot. I hoped pictures would do, and pressed on.
There were some stretches where I was completely alone, nothing but the swift river underneath me, the sheer vertical walls on either side, and a sliver of blue sky above. Several places along the canyon, it was apparent that sudden rushes of water had dug deep rounded divets into the walls, giving evidence to how dangerous this trail is in high water. I kept going, probably faster than I should have been, but the canyon was so mystical that I couldn't resist the desire to see what lay beyond the next turn. After a while I passed a group of hikers who appeared to have spent the night at the end of the trail. They were all huddled around one guy as they slowly progressed towards the trailhead. As I got closer I realized he had hurt his arm pretty badly, since it was splinted and bandaged to his body. Among their company was a ranger who had no doubt been dispatched to assist in his return. After assuring myself that they had enough help, I kept going. After a few minutes I realized that being injured in the canyon all alone would be both an easy thing to do, and a difficult thing to get out of. I turned one last bend, gazed down the magical canyon I had imagined while reading Dinotopia as a little kid, solemnly vowed I would return and hike the whole thing, then turned back.
I overtook the injured guy and some other people I had passed on the way in. I eventually reached the waterfall and knew I was close to where I had parted from Pri. Rushing through the dip in the river, re-drenching all that had managed to dry during my adventure, I reached the new spot Pri had found to wait. She was sitting on a rock with a telling look. I wagered I had been gone a tad bit longer than anticipated, which she confirmed as we got up and headed back towards the Zion Narrows trailhead.
Here we sat collecting some rocks to document the beautiful colors of the Zion Narrows. A ranger who had led a guided hike to the Riverside Trail's terminus saw my aquatic appearance and recruited me to grab a shoe from a nearby rock in the river. He said he usually tried to clean up some of the junk that people left around. As the sun sank lower and lower, we were not only being deprived of light but also heat. In my dampened state, I pried Pri away from her self-assigned task of trying to find clear quartz crystal pebbles, and we started walking back towards the bus stop. We had left just in time, because the valley was really starting to get dark by the time the bus arrived. We hopped on, and started back towards the visitor's center.
Somewhere along the way, we realized that we were starving. A day of traipsing around canyons works up quite a hunger. When the bus driver announced the Zion Lodge stop (about half-way back to the visitor's center), our stomachs got the better of us and we ambled out of the bus in the hopes that this lodge would, like many of the other national park's lodges, have some kind of eatery. In the last twinges of daylight, we entered. The gift shop cashier confirmed our assumption and soon we were walking up a staircase to the dining room. The national park restaurants are so confused. They try to be high class, but always possess the same atmosphere as a college food court (imagine the 1855 room). The host(ess? we weren't sure) greeted us, and we asked if we could get a table for two. It slowly consulted a paper on the podium, looked up at the nearly barren dining room, and in an oddly arrogant voice said "I can try to squeeze you in." It disappeared for a minute or two, then returned and offered to lead us to our table. A short walk later, through the virtually empty dining room, we were at our table. We were bid adieu by the host(my vote was for -ess) and were shortly greeted by a very nervous looking waitress. We ordered two pasta dishes and dug into the bread. While waiting for the pasta, I decided I could withstand my now chattering teeth induced by damp clothes no longer. I ran down to the gift store and bought a brown sweatshirt that was too big for me. A minute later I reappeared upstairs so much warmer, and we ate our surprisingly decent dinner.
(what the restaurant looked like as we entered)
We exited the lodge into the darkness of night in the middle of nowhere, which is drastically different from night in New Jersey. Millions of stars be-speckled the sky and we tried to find our way to the dim light post denoting the bust stop. On our way, we encountered a group of people staring off into a field and whispering. After a short inquiry, we learned they were staring at the shadowy forms of about ten deer grazing in the field. We enjoyed this sight, then continued on to the bus stop. Totally exhausted, we welcomed the arrival of the bus, happily slumped into the seats and finished the ride to the visitor's center. We found the car and I finally acquired some dry pants. After changing in the nearby bathroom, we set up the GPS for the next stop, Bryce Canyon National Park. You see, we had not secured a campsite in Zion... to be honest we had never planned on staying in Zion as late as we did. So now we had to drive two hours to the next park with an ETA of about 1 AM.
We hit the road, winding through the narrow canyon passes lit only by our headlights and the freakishly bright full moon. At some point I had to trade off with Pri who woke me up as we reached Bryce. Together, we navigated to the campsite ,and through a combination of our utter exhaustion and unwillingness to wake up the entire campground, we decided to skip setting up the tent and just sleep in the car. After shoving the stuff in the back seat around for a little, we were able to tilt our chairs slightly. Falling asleep proved unsuccessful however, because the freaking moon was so bright that we actually had to put the sun shield up in order to block it out. In one day, we had gone from sleeping in a $500/night suite at the Bellagio to sleeping vertically in a 1998 Honda Civic.
[adam]
