I climbed a rock and didn’t die!

When my brother asked me if I wanted to go to Zion National Park on about two weeks’ notice, I jumped at the chance. I love national parks and have always wanted to go to Zion to see its towering rocks.

My next question, of course, was “What do you want to hike?” His answer: Angels’ Landing and The Narrows. Of course.

I read up on the notorious Angels’ Landing and suddenly felt unsure. If you want to psych yourself out, go ahead and do some research. People have died up there. It’s not for the faint of heart.

I even asked people about it. One of my students told me I had to do it and that it was life-changing. (That’s quite an endorsement.) Another friend, a pretty avid hiker, told me it wasn’t bad, but I know she’s also done Half Dome and Mount Whitney and a lot of amazing places I haven’t yet.

So I arrived at Zion on Friday not knowing what to expect besides a good adventure. I figured I would hike up to the top and take it from there.

We hit the trail in the middle of the day despite the fact that a) it was about 100 degrees and b) all the signs at the entrance said “don’t hike in the middle of the day.” Oops. (We drove in that morning from Vegas, we couldn’t help it.)

So yeah, it was hot. And the first two miles of the hike is pretty strenuous in itself: lots of elevation, a zillion switchbacks, and only a little shade. This hike is hard enough; it’s an endurance test when the sun is broiling you to well done. Honestly, though, the scenery is amazing. It’s also quite an amazing feat of trail engineering if you stop and think about , particularly Walter’s Wiggles in the final stretch to the top, which is reminiscent of the crooked Lombard Street in San Francisco. Except this is built up a damn mountain.

We finally got up the Wiggles (with a lot of “damn you, Walter” being muttered under our breaths), rounded the bend and reached what’s called Scout’s Landing, the spot where people either decide to continue on the death-defying trek to the top of Angels’ Landing, or decide that their stomachs aren’t up to the task.

I don’t scare very easily and I’m not afraid of heights. I mean, I’m that chick who goes up tall edifices and lies face-down on the glass floor. I jumped repeatedly in the glass chamber attached to the outside of the top of the Sears Building. I love upside-down roller coasters. I love adventure and I love to hike. But there is something about staring up rocks and the valley below and *really* knowing that one wrong move is going to kill you. Most of those other situations are controlled situations. Here on the rocks, it’s basically about mental fortitude and your ability to hold yourself up in a straight line.

The trek to Angels’ Landing is a series of scrambles up the rocks, chain-aided in some sections. It’s like climbing up rock stairs. Except the drop is at least 1,000 feet and many footholds are barely wider than your foot. So there’s that. It’s absolutely terrifying.

I took a deep breath, climbed up the first series of rocks with my brother and cousin and took in the view. It didn’t seem so bad. Then I saw the first section of chain. Deep breath time.

It was a little crowded when we got there (it was probably around 3:30 p.m.). After letting a few large groups get down, my brother and cousin started climbing up the chained section. I contemplated my life, hugged a tree for dear life to let a few other people pass, and wondered if I could really do this. And off I went. Very slowly.

The chain is helpful, but as I said, this climb is also dependent on you being able to keep yourself upright. Many people step without hanging on to the chains. I salute those people. I’m not one of them.

My brother and cousin went well ahead of me. I wasn’t going to try to catch them. There are no extra points earned for doing this fast. I’d rather stay alive. I ran into a lady who was chillin’ on a rock section, talking to someone else and said, “Slow and steady wins the race, eh?” She laughed and wished me luck.

That section I was in was chain-free and requires a scramble up the step-like rock. It was maybe less than 100 yards, but it feels like forever. The scramble is fun, and quite frankly, it’s easier going up than it is going down. I shimmied my way up, rounded the bend and was greeted with some pretty amazing views.

You can actually see the rest of the climb from this point, and in fact, many people mistakenly think it’s over. I did until my brother pointed across the dip at the giant towering rock on the other side and was like, “Nope. You climb that. You see all those people?”

Holy shit.

They went on. I hung back a little. I mean, holy shit. It’s already quite beautiful at this spot and you get the death-defying views of the valley below. But you look across and have I mentioned HOLY SHIT.

I walked down the ridge. There is a section here that requires you to scramble down and squeeze into a fairly tiny slot between two rocks. You walk a little along the cliff but there aren’t too many chains here. You then get to a series of steps. There is chain here, but really, you need to have solid footing and good balance. It is EFFING TERRIFYING. Another group of what looked like older teenage boys (they may even have been college kids) went through this section a little while after me and I heard one of them yell “HOLY SHIT!” and when they got past me, I laughed and said, “That’s exactly what I said when I went up there.”

After that step of faith, you reach the end of the chain at that section. You see where you have to scramble across the final dip and then the final vertical climb up to the top of Angels’ Landing. I looked at that chain-free scramble — a length of 20 feet maybe — and freaked out. Again, it’s all about steady footing. I watched maybe 15 people cross it, seemingly effortless.

And that’s when I decided to tap out.

You see the gal in that photo? The flat rocks slope at a downward angle to that point and I was like, NOPE.

At this point, you can see the people trekking up to the top. They’re tiny ants. My brother was wearing yellow so I could spot him pretty easily. He and my cousin were chillin’ in a shady spot for a while about halfway up. We yelled across the dip at each other. I told him I was gonna chill where I was and wait for them to come back. He yelled back that I should sit in the shade. When you’re a little terrified and hanging on to the end pole of the chains and looking out at the valley 1,000 feet below, you don’t give a rat’s ass about shade. It was breezy, anyway.

That’s a long way down.

I did decide eventually that I would at least return to the ridge on the other side, the part where people mistakenly think the route is over. That required going back over the super terrifying steps — again, it’s actually harder to go down than it is to go up — and scrambling along the razor-thin ridge with no chains. After that, there’s the climb up the tiny slot, the last obstacle before you can sit and contemplate your life for a while. But while going down was relatively easy — you can use your butt, that’s what it’s for! — you look at the way up and am like, “oh, that’s why there’s a chain there.” It’s still hard to pull yourself up and over, and there was a point that I was sitting crablike on a rock and wondering if I’d be able to actually stand up and un-pretzel my way out of the position I was in.

I got to the landing, found a somewhat shady spot out of the way, and hung out. Hikers are very nice. A bunch of people got up there and were like, “is this it?” and I’d point nonchalantly at the rock across the way and say, “nope, you gotta climb that.” Many went on, others had the same reaction I did and were like, “I’m good.” I was there long enough that I saw some groups that had gone past me come back. I saw the teenage boys who yelled holy shit at the steps. “You made it back!” I exclaimed. “Thankfully,” one of them replied.

Eventually, my brother and cousin came back too and we chilled for a bit. After all, they had climbed a lot more than I had!

At that point, it was probably close to 5 p.m. and the sun was mercifully starting to dip behind the canyon walls. But there was still this business of returning to Scout’s Landing and then hiking all the way back down to the valley floor.

We turned away from the landing spot and started to scramble back down. That first section is chain-free for 50 yards. I was still incredulous that I had scrambled up here but realized how terrifying the downward scramble was. Down is hard. I held on to the cliff for dear life. I’m not religious but kept muttering “Sweet holy Jesus.” A gal was behind me and had also tapped out at the same point in the climb as I had and we found camaraderie in our shared trepidation. I got to a section where my brother and cousin were hanging out and suddenly had no idea what footholds to use. My brother had to direct me around a bush, and I decided it was time to scramble down on my butt. I like being close to the ground. Meanwhile, people are walking around me like it’s nothing. I salute those people.

Groups were still coming up the rocks, so we did courteously stop and let them go through. We had room to sit out of the way. You don’t want to be paralyzed by fear on the chains and cause bottlenecks. People scrambled their way up. Some young folks with Spanish-tinted accents made their way up, the last girl doing her best Spider-Man impression up the smooth rock. They asked us about the top. A guy came by with his girlfriend and she said he was afraid of heights. He said they had just moved to Vegas recently and this was on his girlfriend’s list and they had to go. We told him about the view around the corner and he said he’d probably stop there while his girlfriend explored. We wished them luck, told the dude he was super ballsy, and they continued on their way. So did we.

The chains are somewhat comforting but you still have to look down. That’s what’s insane. I scrambled a lot on my butt. I hung on to trees for dear life, trees that were probably barely hanging on to the cliffs themselves. I could see the outhouses at Scout’s Landing and my sense of relief was palpable. Terra firma! Well, terra firma way up on a mountain, but still, more firma than what we’d been hanging out on for the last couple of hours.

That final stretch to Angels’ Landing is only half a mile, but it is honestly the longest half-mile in human history. I only went halfway, probably, and felt like I had lived eight lifetimes to get there. Quite frankly, I’m surprised that there have been only seven deaths since 2004 (according to the signs). It’s crazy up there.

We eventually made our way back down to the valley. It was a lot easier now that the entire way down was in the shadow.

Later, we looked at the photos my brother took from the top of Angels’ Landing and realized what we had climbed. You look at the big picture, how tiny those ridges look and the sheer drops on either side and realize what an accomplishment getting up there is, even part of the way.

I climbed the rock and lived. I felt a lot of fear and doubt up there but it was exhilarating. And the view was amazing. I didn’t get all the way up like my student had, but I have to agree with him: it *is* life-changing.