UP WITH THE ANGELS

It gnawed at me.  I'd been denied the opportunity to join the ants on high last time I had been in America and, every so often, the image would pop into my mind; people atop a massive rock formation who I wanted to join, to see what it was like up there.  From down here, it looked awesome.

Now, a decade later, here I was, bus stop 5 (of 6) in Zion, America's fourth most popular national park, in the south of Utah, America's number one state for rock formations.  Previously, while on a coach tour, we'd been told to hop on the National Parks' bus (the only transport allowed), alight at stop one or two and walk back.  Somehow, in the back of my mind, curiousity reigned and, when I boarded the National Park's bus, I queried the driver as to the best plan of action.  He immediately said, "Get off at 6, walk back to 5 and then catch the bus back; which is exactly what I did, revelling in the stunning scenery as the puffs of dust rose at every footfall in the bottom of the awesome canyon and feeling sorry for the rest of our tour group who hadn't seen what I'd just viewed.

I reflect, as I write, at how fortunate I was to go when I did because, one year later, the only way you could get on the slope was to take part in a lottery, a system used elsewhere in the States for popular places that can't handle excessive crowds.  In other places they might get hundreds of people who turn up on a day with only 10 places allocated; it's that tough.

Research indicated that the ridge was labelled Angel's Landing and it was one of America's top ten day walks on every site I visited, mostly in the top three.  It was also potentially dangerous.  If you fall, that's it.  Finito.  There's no coming back when you drop over the edge up there.  It's not a place for the faint hearted, as I would find out in an hour or so.

As I alighted in the early hours, there were a couple of other hikers who joined me and we'd been warned to go to the conveniently placed toilet before we headed off.  It was sage advice.

                                             Angels Landing dead ahead

By the time I was ready, I was alone, a situation I'm used to after decades of walking and I lit out across the stream with the title of Virgin River, a tributary of the famous Colorado.  You're immediately aware of your surrounds, just how overpowering they are.  In every direction, the awe of giant sandstone cliffs imposes itself upon your psyche. Even when your head is down there's an awareness that something big is out there.

The smooth level path soon starts to rise; it's well made and well used.  Rain is but an occasional problem here and the soft gravel path is a delight to walk on and it starts to ascend, ascend up to where it is cut into a sheer cliff and it becomes more noticeable that you're rising. Numerous switchbacks later and a lot of climbing there's a 90 degree turn and you move into the aptly named "Refrigerator Canyon".  Light rarely ventures here and it's clear that it has the potential to get seriously cold, surrounded as it is by towering walls but we're heading away from the main chasm into another world.

                                                         Last stop before Refrigerator Canyon

Still, we're ascending until a U-turn, then there's Walter's Wiggles, 21 switchbacks named after Walter Ruesch, Zion National Park’s first superintendent.  This is serious steep and only the seriously fit go up this section without stopping for a breather before reaching the flat open Scouts Lookout where everyone pauses.  It is here that decisions have to be made.  To go, or not to go.

                

I sat down and pulled my drink bottle out while I contemplated the way ahead.  To be sure, it was narrow; scary narrow.  Doubts crept into various quarters of my brain and started to infect it.  On the other hand I reflected that I had waited 10 years for this opportunity, maybe if I gave it a go?  There were chains en route somewhere, right?  

                                              It's no laughing matter! The ridge is behind me

After about a quarter of an hour I decided to go a little way further and crept tentatively forward.  The closer I got the less scary it seemed.  I reasoned, from previous excursions, that, once you got into something, you tended to focus and some of the fear went away, leaving only mild apprehension.  That's where I found myself now, slowly on the ascent, firm grip on the solid chain and thinking it wasn't so bad.  Still, at last count, an estimated (depending on which site you go to) around 16 people have gone over around here, a point from where there's only one outcome.

One thing you can't ignore is just how spectacular it is now.  The words dramatic, sensational and awe-inspiring frequently surfaced in my conscious.  It was hard to know where to look next and then it started to ascend again.  One foot at a time, hang onto the chain, be prepared for any little slip, steady as she goes.  For the faint hearted this is the crunch point.  There's a 1,400 ft drop there, there's no safety rail.  Depending on what site you go to, 16 people at least have gone over the side.

Fortunately, you have to focus so much on your next step, it distracts you from other scenarios.

Then the trail crosses to the other side of the narrow ridge and a steep incline, slightly off-camber, now has to be negotiated.  This was the scariest bit for mine but you are so focused on where you are going you don't think of anything else.  Besides, your goal is now just a few hundred metres away at 1,785 metres above sea level

An occasional tree has found root where grains have gathered in crevices and they make a welcome change in the landscape.

After scaling a steep section I'm nearly there and I make the mistake of looking back.  Frankly, it's downright scary.  I can't believe I just scaled the oh-so-narrow ridge I'm looking back on.  What was I thinking!

                                            

Back on the job, it's just over the length of a footy field to the goal, pardon the pun.  Here, people are savouring the moment.  A group of young Americans who'd passed me earlier come over to give me high fives; they're so impressed an Aussie in his mid 70's has made the climb.

One of their number was missing.  He's sitting, legs astride, on the very edge of a narrow precipice.  They explain he's a mountain climber and that's what they do, even though it's freaking out just about everyone else.

It's such a broad platform when you get there that there's ample room for everyone and people are clearly happy they've made the effort.  I have to say that, of all the walks I've ever done, this had one of the greatest rewards.  It takes a while before you realise there's one more thing left to do - you have to go down the same route and here, and I can't stress this enough, it pays to go down backwards, like sailors are taught on ships.  It is so much safer and quicker you'll wonder why you never found out before.

                                    

However, it's still a long way back but you feel a lot more confident and once you reach the Scouts Lookout it's nice broad path on the return.  I'm amazed at how busy it's become though, so glad I got there early as I'd advise anyone else.  You can do it more quickly, but allow four hours.