52.) Obligatory Horror Stories.....Angel's Landing.....Self Loathing....

 The next morning I navigate the bus system deep into the Park in hopes of reaching the trailhead to Angel’s Landing. It’s one of those hikes Zion is famous for, I’ve read all about it, and it sounds like it’ll be quite an experience. In route I chat with other passengers and when I mention my destination I’m met with there obligatory story of “did ya hear what happened last week?”  Evidently a woman hiked part of the way up and then just froze. She refused to move either way, and this particular part of the trail is oriented in such a way that the stuck woman’s presence was preventing any other hikers from safely getting by.  No one else could go up, and no else could come down, until she moved; but she was paralyzed with fear.  Eventually, a ranger was notified and made his way up the trail to aid this woman in her decent.  When he finally reaches her, he speaks in soothing tones trying to coax her down the trail.  It doesn’t work, she can’t move.  The ranger inches closer to her sliding an arm around her shoulders and places his hand on hers.  When he scoops up her hand into his, she panics. Arms flailing, squirming in the ranger grasp, until it’s too much and they misstep.  In each others arms, these two strangers plummet hundreds of feet down the cliff side and into the canyon.  Neither survived……. “That’s a hell of a story to tell me on the bus ride TO that fuckin' trail!” I yell, shaking my head.  

I’m still shaking off the cobwebs of that story as I hop off the bus and onto the trailhead for Angel’s Landing, where I end up doing 5 miles of the most intense hiking I've done yet. And that woman from the story on the bus? Well, her fears seem more and more reasonable the further I go up the path.  First it's 21 switchbacks up…..always up.

    It’s misleading at first, the path is narrow, yes, but far from perilous, and the grade not too steep. It starts from the canyon floor, no need to be nervous just yet. Then switchback after switchback, higher and higher and before I know it the canyon floor on my right has dropped so far that I’m hiking next to tree tops. On my left, heavy chains are riveted into the rock wall to give hikers something to hold onto. The trail seems to do nothing but narrow and climb, no more than 2 feet wide in some places and topping out in the neighborhood of 1400 feet with nothing between me and the vertical drop.  It’s terrifying and exhilarating at the same time, which seem to be the token characteristics of life’s greatest experiences, and if you ever catch yourself feeling both simultaneously,  you can rest assured your time is being wisely spent. I recommend any of these experiences to anybody, this hike included.  But it does seem awfully dangerous. I don’t know how the park gets away with just letting anybody climb up here.

    When I finally reach the top and the trail widens into a relatively flat plateau where people are milling about taking pictures and what not.  Sitting just off to my left is a pair of college girls, the Asian one is looking panicked and out of breath while her friend sits next the her with a comforting arm draped around her neck. They look up as I walk passed and I stab a thumb back in the direction of the trail, “Damn, that’s a crazy fuckin climb huh?”

The Asian girl looks at me with red ringed eyes, “I cried the whole way up…” she says.  I giggle a little and say “But ya made it!” and head towards the highest point on this mesa in the sky.  The views, along with the feeling of actually being here, are well worth any traumas the route up may have caused.  Three hundred and sixty degrees. All the way around. I’m in awe everywhere I look.  I can see all the way to the mouth of the canyon and the entrance to the park.  Below a shag carpet of green follows the river along the canyon floor. The other direction, deeper into the canyon is more untouched wilds until the river disappears around a bend.  

    It’s this feeling that I’m chasing. The feeling of ‘being’ that you get when you reach  a place like this. There's a metaphor hiding there somewhere. The triumphant wave of adrenaline that comes after an arduous journey.  A sense of accomplishment, and a view from the top.  It’s what we’re all chasing really…..isn’t it?  Maybe I’m wrong, but if feels damn good.  

During my brief but memorable stay atop Angel’s Landing I chat with a lovely young couple, and during our hike down they mention they are next headed to The Narrows. I did that trail just the other day but since the rest of my day is plan-less I happily accept their invitation to join them. 

On the bus, heading towards the Narrows I reach for my camera but it isn't there. Normally it hangs in an army green pouch slung across my chest like a purse, but the entire thing is no where on my person. A frantic search of my bus seat and the surrounding bus floor bears no fruit either. Then it hits me. I remember taking it off, hanging it on a fence post so I could remove and refill my camelback at one of the water stations.  I specifically remember taking it off, but not putting it back on. To myself I think, well that's pretty stupid of me and I bid adieu with a hasty apology to my new found hiking buddies and hop off the bus to head back in the direction of my cameras last known whereabouts.  

This spot in the park is know as the Grotto, and when arrive my camera is no where to be found. Not on the fence post near the water station where I left it, nor in the nearby ranger station's lost and found. As I board another bus, my self loathing is deepening and in a last ditch effort I dump my tale of woe on the bus driver who informs me that a camera fitting my description has just been turned in to the lost and found at the Visitors Center back near the entrance to the park.  I’m once again elated on the ride there, and one again plummet back into the depths upon my arrival when it’s obvious that it's not my camera that was recently turned in.  

The self loathing reaches a fever pitch as I turn in a ‘lost item’ form to the ranger at the lost and found.  “Buck up, man,” he says to me, the dismay on my face is far from subtle.  “We find 99% of lost items around here.  I once had someone turn in a $4,000 camera they found on the bus.  Could have easily made off with it themselves but they didn’t.  People know cameras contain memories, I guess.”

It’s a nice thought, and a profound observation.  “I’ll have to steal it”, I think to myself while considering all the now-lost memories in my lost camera.  I thank the ranger as I leave, with no real expectations of ever seeing the thing again and the memory of how I came to have that particular camera in the first place.  

It was a gift from my old man, the first model was, for a birthday or some such event.  It was sleek, shiny, digital, and water proof.  I was beyond content, and it served it’s function admirably until a trip to Maui, where a dip into the tide pools did it in, despite the advertising of it’s “waterproof” feature.  I remember feeling terrible for breaking the damn thing, it being a gift from my Dad and all.  And being the stand up guy that he is, my dad weaseled his way into a free replacement from the manufacturer.  And not only that but a higher end version of the broken one…..next years model…as they say.  This new one, looks indestructible.  Made of thick durable plastic and padded rubber printed with the words “waterproof”, “impactproof”, “adventure proof.” 

Back on the bus, I come out of my daydream thinking, “yeah, but not Skala-proof. I can’t break it…..but I can loose it.” I take the bus back to the park entrance hating myself even more than usual.

51.) The Darkest Place in America and Plotting in Hotel Lobbies......

 The hike out is all uphill, not steep, but consistent.  I can feel my stamina building, I make it back to the top pretty quickly and I’m not really tired. Personal growth, physical or otherwise is always a reason to celebrate, or at least take conscious note of. 

    I read that Bryce Canyon is one of the darkest places in America so around 1 am I drive out to Sunset Point to have a look.  What I see…..is nothing. Thousands of stars are the only points of light for miles. I look out over the canyon…..not one light, not one sign of civilization from where I stand all the way to the horizon I can barely make out……darkness. It’s like standing in outer space.  

On my drive back out of the park the animals know the crowds have departed for the day and its safe to emerge from their hiding places.  Dozens of mule deer, springbok, and antelope show themselves on both side of the road.  It’s probably another nightly routine for them, just like the deer in Capitol Reef.  They’re just like me, trying to avoid the crowds in order to pursue their own personal desires.  I have more in common with animals than I do with people, and I like the animals better. They're more relatable. 

    Bryce Canyon is a beautiful landscape, but I’ve seen what there is to see, I’ve turned 31 and now it’s time to head to a new park, one that I’ve heard a lot about and am excited to experience……Zion National Park.  

    Upon my arrival my intention is to stop at the local post office. My Mom has sent me some packages, but the sign on the door says closed.  Apparently it’s Memorial Day and the park is a zoo.  I don’t even try to get back in today so I spend the rest of my daylight hours walking around town looking for a place to watch tonights hockey game.  It’s here that I discover hotel lobbies to be a great place to cool off in the A/C, rest up, and read in relative comfort.  No one hassles me because they have no way of knowing I’m not a guest of the hotel.  I’m thinking exactly this when I notice a sign advertising the free continental breakfast in the morning…..and a plan begins to form.

    The next morning I show up at the same Hotel during the designated breakfast hours. I walk in the front door all nonchalant and head for the bathroom in the lobby. I don't have to go, but it's down the hallway a bit towards the elevators. I’m hoping when I come out, it’ll look like I came from my “room” on one of the upper levels so that no one will hassle me at the breakfast buffet.  It turns out that I needn't worry, the hotel staff actually help me operate the waffle iron and I’m in heaven.  I fill up my plate with bacon, french toast sticks, OJ, milk, mini omelets, english muffins, coffee, plus that waffle they helped me make, and it’s all free! After I’m stuffed to capacity, I waddle back to the jeep thinking, “Ill be doing this again,” and head to the post office to retrieve my packages.  When I do they are full of snacks and a new load of books. I take stock and then get excited to start exploring Zion National Park.

I anchor the jeep in a desert of parking lot at the park's entrance. No cars allowed INSIDE the Park itself, I must navigate the bus system. It’s pretty simple….slow, but effective. I ride as deep as I can into Zion so I can do the the trail all the way at the back called The Narrows. It leads me up the Virgin River and deep into the canyon where, you guessed it, it narrows until I can't help but walk in the river.  Near vertical rock faces on either side that have to be over 100 feet high. Hanging gardens in fissures and crevices with rocks weeping from the rain water dripping from above.  A significant drop in temperate finishes off the scene and I take it all in.  It’a a poplar trail so there’s more people than I’d like, but I still get the feeling of really being “in it” or “out there”. The landscape feels imposing, imprisoning almost.  Isolation, that’s the word I'm looking for.  It’s very isolating, after the long bus ride down the park’s winding main road, and now the cliffs always looming, I’ve got no sense of direction, I'm disoriented. I wait till the last of the hikers in front of me disappear around the next bend in the river and really try to feel all alone out here. It’s wild but short lived as more people hike passed from deeper in the canyon. Still a unique experience that I would recommend to anyone. It’s an awful flat hike, but your feet will get wet. Mind the weather, flash floods are no joke.

    I find the local library, giant bean bag chairs are a plus, watch the hawks game at Jacks Sports Bar. Jack’s is a pretty nice joint, and I get to sit outside with views of the zion canyon while I watch the hawks avoid elimination.  I pass out in the jeep at the Park and Ride just down the road from the park.

50.) Lounging NOT Lodging,...Choking Life INTO the desert.....And Word Vomit...

 The next day is nicer.  The report is still calling for rain but I see no storms the radar. It’s frustrating because I can’t commit myself to a serious hike with the risk of getting caught in the rain below the rim.  Flash floods are relatively common in canyons like these. I’m able to get a few miles in along the Rim Trail before it starts to drizzle again, the wind picks up and the temperature drops so I retreat to the car. A few hours later it looks like the heart of the storm is gonna pass north of me and it turns into a beautiful day. The sun is still trying to navigate through a light fog of cloud cover but blue skies make an appearance and the temperature is up to 54 degrees. It makes for very pleasant conditions but it’s already too late for a serious hike. I cruise to a few more view points, all of which are similarly gorgeous.  There is immense beauty in the USA, all over.  It’s the ugliness of a lot of the people that erode that beauty.

    Theres no sports bar or anything around to watch the Hawks game so I sneak into Ruby’s Lodge and find a little lounge area where I can steal wifi and watch the game on my iPod. They lose but I’ve been drinking whiskey and coke out of my water bottle for the entire game.  By the time it’s over I’m ballsy enough to sneak into the indoor pool area. I’m so dirty from living out the back of the Jeep, when I cannonball into the pool I imagine a cloud of filth blooming around me like Pig Pen. The dip is a welcome reward, the hot tub is an added bonus, even though there are a few other people in there. We all laugh together when we learn that not a single one of us is actually staying at this lodge, we’ve all just snuck in. The right type of people can also add to that beauty...they're a double edged sword, people are.  I car camp in the parking lot, close enough to still steal wifi from the lodge, and a fall asleep watching Colbert, What a treat! Today was a good day….

    Finally! Sunny blue skies!  Weather is huge in a life on the road, when one is outside most of the time.  After days of rain this is a welcome sight and I take full advantage and hike nearly 8 miles.  I do the Queens Garden Trail, Navajo loop, and the Tower Bridge Trail.  

I finally get to drop below the rim, down amongst to hoodoos and again I’m forced to use that phrase…..like nothing I've seen before. I say it a lot but I believe it to be true every time…..that’s a good thing I think. The hoodoos are formed the same way as the arches but they don’t seem similar. Massive, layered spires reaching skyward. “Odd” and “impressive” are the words I jot in my note book. I believe their proper description is beyond the scope of my abilities, and recommend seeing them for yourself.

 

It appears that here in Bryce Canyon is where the forest meets the desert. I hike passed several dark green conifers standing tall in the canyon, but the hoodoos appear successful in their attempts to maintain control. The view from the rim shows dense green forest carpeting the river valley further below slowly choking life INTO the desert.

I take a trail called Wallstreet on my way back up. It leads me through a narrow slot canyon with shear rock walls straight up on either side.  A few evergreens grow out of the canyon floor and stretch toward the sliver of blue sky that's visible between the canyon walls. It’s much cooler in here but it’s a relatively low-impact, and therefore popular trail, which makes it too crowded for my own personal tastes, so I don't linger.

The Tower Bridge Trail drops into the forest among the evergreens and the pinkish white hills of crumbling rock. On the way down nearly every person I pass warns me of a rattle snake near the bottom of the trial. The first few warnings make me a little nervous, by the 9th or 10th, I’m annoyed and couldn’t care less.  These types of warnings are abundant in this part of the country.  Every ranger station or visitors center I’ve been to, somewhere inside there's always some kind of warning about rattle snakes. (I attribute this to the low levels of common sense, and the high levels of stupidity rampant in the American public) I have still yet to see one, so when the trail levels out near the bottom I take some time to hunt for the little bastard and eventually I do catch a glimpse of him. It’s exciting only because I’ve never seen one before, other than that all the warnings were a whole lot of hubbub for nothing.  People make it seem like the snakes, or any potentially dangerous creature, are out to get you, when the reality is, generally speaking, wild animals don't really give a shit about us. This rattler is no exception and continues on with his snake business and I hike by and out of his life forever. 

At the bottom I reach the rock formation known as Tower Bridge.  Aptly named because it has rock towers reaching skyward, a natural rock bridge, and even a window like arch at the opposite end.  I’ve seen all these before, but never in the same rock formation, it’s an impressive sight.  Again, go see for yourself.

 

I sit on a log to read down here for a bit in an attempt to avoid making my hike out with random strangers.  I like being alone on hikes, so my mind is free to wander instead of struggling through small talk with some random person I care nothing about. I really should be more open to meeting people while I'm on the road, and there are times when I’m craving human interaction, or just someone to talk to.  Other times, I find myself going to great lengths to avoid people entirely.  Truth be told, most people are completely useless to me.  Narcissistic, self serving, greed heads who are under the impression that their needs and desires are more important than anyone else’s.  I’m not into it. Small talk, the problems with your significant other, your long term goals, whatever dilemma they're going through…..I’m not interested.  That’s why I never really share anything about my self with anyone, I don’t care about your shit, why would you care about my shit?  Personally, I think reading on a log in the woods at the end of a long hike can lubricate your problem solving muscles much better than the word vomit I get from most people, but what do I know?

49.) Devil's Backbone.... Stranger's Detours.....Birthday Gorge...

    In the morning my drive starts along Highway 12. There’s mention of it in 2 or 3 of my National Park books, says it’s supposed to be good one.  Passed Boulder, UT it follows a ridge not much wider than the road itself aptly named The Devil’s Backbone. The road stretches to a vanishing point on the horizon in both directions. On either side it’s all solid rock as far as I can see except the furry green serpent of vegetation slithering it’s way through the bottom of a nearby valley...must be a creek.

     Derek, back at The Patio, had mentioned to me something about Calf Creek Falls.  The details are a bit fuzzy but I remember the name, and something about 3 miles, and a campground. Circumstances are such that….I ain’t got nowheres to be, so I figure I’ll see if I can find it. Turns out pretty easy, I’m just cruising highway 12, taking in the sights when I come upon Calf Creek Campground…..(that’s hard to say)…..but as I pull in I seem to remember something about a trail all the way in the back. There ARE campers in the place but it’s not crowded by any means. We really are in the middle of nowhere out here.

     No one hassles me as I drive through and find a parking area and a trail. I follow a sandy footpath worn through the knee high grass three miles back into a shallow canyon. It’s a warm sunny day, it’s quiet and peaceful, birds singing…it’s a damn Disney cartoon.   

    I can hear it before I see it.....The canyon dead ends at a rock wall that’s obscured by a few taller trees. Up above them I can see a stream pouring over the precipice and disappearing behind the treetops. I hike underneath them, through to the other side and there it is,127 feet high, Calf Creek Falls. Pretty incredible, at the back of a canyon in the middle of no where.  As I approach it seems as if the waterfall is creating it’s own breeze back here, it’s much cooler. I sweat my ass off the entire hike here and now it’s almost cold. The water is arctic which is disappointing, I was looking forward to a swim, wash myself off a bit but I can’t bring myself to do it. The water's just too damn cold, so I do my best to wash off with an old shirt I dunk in the frigid water.

    

    Once I’m clean…..well, clean-ER anyways, I feel much better and think, I never would have known about this place, let alone stopped for a look, if I hadn't chatted with Derek. Just a friendly stranger, and I realize I’ve already met my fair share of friendly strangers already. It’s actually been happening much more often than I would have thought. There was Laundry Matt back in Roswell, the guy that gave me half his sandwich at the Grand Canyon, Michelle at Ghost Ranch, and now Derek at The Patio. It puts a little bit of hope back in humanity for me, and renews the spirit. In just the past few days I’ve received three different calls from old friends that have been reading the first few posts I’ve made about the beginning of my trip, and just that little bit of encouragement, the slightest bit of positive feedback gives me new life, makes me want to write more. As much as I want it to not matter if people take notice, it still feels really good when they do. Plus, through one of these calls I get word of some newly acquired land in Montana that a group of friends will be camping on in a few weeks. I mark it on my calendar.  Every so often, the stars align out here and I get one of those near perfect days….today was one of them.

    I pull into Bryce Canyon National Park under a bleak, grey sky which unleashes a fierce and persistent drizzle the second I enter the visitors center, it also happens to be my 31st birthday. Here on the rim of the canyon, around 9,000 feet above sea level, it’s in the mid 40’s.  I roam around the visitors center collecting maps and information packets to discover what there is to see in the park. When I’ve fully explored the visitors center (Bryce Canyon has a pretty good sized one….That’s what she said) I emerge to find a steady mist still thickens the air and an endless grey sky shows no signs of departing anytime soon; so I decide to cruise thru the park, getting the lay of the land. It’s a good way to get the feel for a new park, especially when it's this shitty outside. The main park road is 18 miles long and I drive it’s entire length, stopping at a few roadside overlooks along the way. The main attraction here seems to be the rock formations, tall rock pillars that reach up from the canyon floor. And the fuckers are everywhere, stretching from one canyon wall to the next.  The Indians that once lived in the canyons called them Hoodoo’s or “Legend People”, believed to be turned to stone by a coyote god. Another awe inspiring example of what the earth can do, and another sight that is different from anything I've ever seen.  Unfortunately, I’ll have to wait to do any real exploring because of the rain, but it’s not a total birthday loss. I picked up a package from my parents at the local post office. Some cookie and candy treats raise my spirits, but what really gets the blood pumping is the gift card with instructions to spend it on a load of groceries and a nice birthday dinner! Hell yeah, an actual meal sounds like heaven. Most of what I’ve been eating has been canned, powdered, freeze dried anything that doesn't need refrigeration. I’ve got a cooler in the jeep but maintaining ice levels has become a nuisance, so anything frozen I buy has to be eaten or cooked almost right away. The prospect of a real meal, that I don’t have to cook myself, that I actually get to eat inside, has me giddy and I'm able to exploit the gift to the fullest at Ruby’s Inn….I opt for the Cowboy Buffett.  

It’s glorious, everything you could imagine, and I attempt to try it all.  Being on a tight budget, I’ve been trying to eat less, stretch my food as far as it will go. Not today my friends….today, I gorge. I probably would have eaten even more than I do, but around my 3rd or 4th plate, I’m so full that the threat of vomiting is very real. I actually have take a moment to concentrate on my breathing there in the booth, to keep all the food down. 

I escape with the contents of my stomach still in place, and call it a pretty successful birthday. The weather was pretty crummy, but I’m not completely miserable with my life now, which is a positive change. I’m doing something I enjoy and while not every single day is exciting, sometimes not even very pleasant, it’s still lightyears ahead of working job I hate, leading a nothing existence. 

I have reason to believe that I’m learning about myself too….or at least trying to get a clearer picture anyway.  I’ve always craved a nomadic kinda life, always on the move seeing new things.  But now after nearly 3 months on the road I’m beginning to think I may need and HQ of sorts. Nothing fancy just somewhere that’s mine, somewhere comfortable, where I can recoup from all the constant movement. I drift off to thoughts of tiny houses near the ocean and that it was a decent birthday. So here’s to me and my 31 years. In my early 20’s I always used to joke that I wouldn't make it to 30. Then that became no fuckin' joke when I was 26, so I mean it when I say I never thought I’d make it this far. Let's celebrate that I did, make the next year a good one, and concentrate on being happy for the rest of em, because you never know how many, or how few, you might have left.