Angels, Tourists, Bikes

April 19th, 2016

That smell. It’s a smell that smelly, and when you smell it, you know what’s going to happen next. It fill the room, lingering with every breath you take. Sweet. Warm. Cinnamon.

I crack open my eyes, clean my bed off the couch, and wander into the kitchen where Abby is busy at work cleaning up from the cinnamon rolls that are in the oven. A few more minutes and they’ll be ready, a sweet start to our final day, and a great energy boos for the long morning hike we’ve planned, Angels Landing. Though as we started the trail, we realized the delicious sugar rush wasn’t the best idea.

With a few cinnamon rolls down the hatch, and happy taste buds to boot, we packed our water snacks and cameras and walked to the park to catch the shuttle. A quick ride early enough to beat the crowds, it was sparsely populated and even fewer people got off at the stop for the trail head. Without pause, we got off the bus, crossed the street, and started the two and a half mile hike to the most iconic view in Zion.

Abby, and Max knew that trail already and what to expect, while I was trying to keep up and take in the sights without dragging behind too much. Abby also was in terrific shape, and set a vicious pace up the steep and winding switchbacks. Max and I barely keeping up, and thankful for the few stops she did make. Kind of like when getting a tattoo and the artist stops just shy of when you’re about to scream, Abby would stop just before Max and I were about to call it and tell her to go on without us.

We make quick work of the initial switchbacks and eventually make our way into a small canyon that runs back a ways to Walters Wiggles. A tight, steep set of switchbacks that end at an exposed view of the last half mile of Angels Landing, and the valley below. We take a rest here, looking up at the looming path above us.

It looks horrid, the only good news is that there aren’t many people on it, so we can cruise up without having to worry about getting in any ones way, or people going too slow. As we start trucking up, my legs start burning, and the cool air from the morning disappears around me as I start to slowly cook in my jacket. Should have taken it off, silly me.

We make it! And the view is already breathtaking. A small sign simply states a half mile to the “summit” and after a bit of gawking and photos, we start on the “hard” part of the trail. Though not as steep and thin as I imagined, it did get tight at parts. With numerous bottle necks apparent, the lack of people again made it easy for us to cruise through, and stop only when we wanted for photos, which was still a lot. The last hundred yards to the end were on a wide ridge, and finally, we made it to the beautiful and iconic view, in only an hour and a half.

Stopping for a rest to enjoy the view and snack, we’re accompanied by a few other hikers who had made it up early and quick with us. The canyon was still half drenched in the shadow of the sun, slicing it almost directly in half, and leading right towards us. Max and I wander around to get our photos while Abby just takes in the view, and laughs at us a little. We hang around and joke for a bit, both with one another, and with other hikers resting at the summit too.

Stomachs full, and eyes happy enough, we take one last breath at the summit, and being the long, knee breaking hike down. This time, we run into many more people and get stopped at almost every bottle neck. The chains offering most people their safety, we wonder off path to keep moving and not get in their way. It was interesting to see some people even hiking with gloves for some reason.

Back at the top of Walters Wiggles, we look down and see a Congo line of people slugging up the steep switchbacks. We descended making sure to greet people at each switchback and tell them they were almost there. Some looked relieved, others just pure exhausted. At the base of the wiggles we moved through the narrow canyon and out into the final set of switchbacks. A quick rest for snack and knees sake, and soon we were next to the river and waiting for the bus.

All said and done, the hike took us 3 hours round trip, and by the time we made it home, it was just a hair past 11 am. Still a full day to make use of! We relaxed at the house for a few hours. Max and I ate lunch and packed our bags while Abby rested before work.

Climbing gear in check, bikes rolling smooth and a clear day ahead of us, we went out to seek revenge on the Tourist Crack. A climb we had spent half of the first day trying to find and failed at. A beautiful 5.10a trad climb at the last stop in Zion, The Temple of Sinawava. We loaded our bikes on the bus, and enjoyed the slow ride into the depths of the canyon. We exited at the last stop, chained up our bikes, and made a b-line for the climb, now obvious on the rock face.

Looking up, it was daunting. A nearly laser cut crack in a left facing dihedral, nearly 100 ft long. Some reading around said I would need multiple of a single cam size (BD red #1) of which I had one, and Max had one. The entire pitch was this cam size, and few other things would hold. Also, I’ve never climbed 5.10a trad before, so this was going to be an adventure of its own.

Racked up, shoes on and tied in, I started up. Scrambling the first 10 feet to my first placement, a #1 cam. Cool, not even 20% in, and I’m already out of half the gear I’ll need. I continued on, placing early and often at the rest points, placing about 4 pieces in the first 40 ft, evenly separated. It was here that the crack truly began, and the laser cut was apparent. I tried placing a passive piece, but with no imperfections in the rock, they wouldn’t hold. All the other gear was just weight training at this point.

The looming crack above me, I placed a piece and down climbed to retrieve the second #1 cam I had placed, as I was getting scared now, and didn’t know if I was going to need it. I danced around at my rest stance for what felt like forever. The afternoon sun roasting me on the exposed cliff face. My hands felt like I had dipped them in a bucket of water. The nerves and heat making them sweat profusely. I was constantly chalking up just standing there, slowly burning out my already fatigued calves. Finally, I took a long deep breath, got into position to layback, and started trucking up the crack to what I hoped would be the next “checkpoint” for me to rest at.

Hand. Step. Step. Hand. Step. Step.

Slowly and surely, I made my way up, my last piece becoming ever smaller with each movement. I make it to the rest spot I saw from below, and though not great, it was enough to get a knee it and shake out my arms. My last piece, and precariously placed BD #2 yellow cam, was nearly 20 ft below me. Today, I wouldn’t be flying. I placed a BD #3 blue cam in the large crack now, it barely being big enough to hold the now massive crack. But the anchors were still another 15 feet above me, it wasn’t over.

I took a few more deep breaths, looked at the crack as best as I could, and began to layback once again. Trucking through it like I had just before, the anchors were in front of me in no time. I pulled myself up and on to the small shelf and clipped the anchors. With a loud and thunderous shout, I screamed into the canyon with excitement and joy. Today, I learned I can climb 5.10a trad.

Max lowered me down as I cleaned up all the gear I had placed. Touching down onto flat, horizontally level ground was a great relief and I felt amazing. I cleaned up, and Max hopped on top rope to try it. He too sent it without any falls! He cleaned the anchor, came down, and we packed up our gear, excited for what we had both just accomplished, and ready for the final part of the day.

Back at the official parking lot of the Temple of Sinawava, we unlocked our bikes, hopped on, and started cruising down the long road home. We found that if we waited until just after a bus left one of the stops, we didn’t have to worry about them sneaking up behind us and could cruise steadily down the road. It was beautiful to have the smooth pavement wiz by as the giant canyon walls looked on. The true beauty of Zion was alive for that quick trip, and everything just felt….right.

We made it back to the house, cleaned gear and bodies, and soon Abby was home from work. Max and I were too tired to make her a feast as great as she had made us, so we treated her out to a new place in town as a thank you for being such an amazing host.

It was the perfect day to end an amazing trip in Zion. From the stunning hikes, great climbing, and beautiful views, I can’t wait to get back to the desert and immerse myself even more.