Spectacular Views Lay Just Beyond Our Comfort Zone
The time we hiked the notorious Angels Landing trail on a whim
My best friend got promoted to the title of husband this year. After a tornado of emotions and incessant decision-making culminating in a memorable wedding ceremony in June 2022, I would say a honeymoon with an abundance of nature and outdoors was exactly what we needed.
We love surrendering to mother nature, engulfed in her glory, for in that moment, we can forget about the million to-dos in our adult lives. We decided to hike through the vast canyons of Arizona and the mountains of Zion to ‘relax and rejuvenate’.
The best part about mother nature is her imperfection. This time she presented her imperfection as an unbelievably torturous heat wave grappling all areas we had marked in our itinerary.
Our hiking spirit was not dampened, albeit we were cautiously afraid. Saddled with four liters of water bottles, copious Nutri bars, and cheesy sandwiches we would set out on our adventures through Grand Canyon National Park, and Zion National Park losing ourselves under the expansive skies. We would begin our hikes as early as 7 am and return to our Airbnb by noon. Stepping out again only after the heat waves transformed into a slow warm breeze grazing our sun-kissed cheeks.
We made our way through our itinerary — the sleepless Vegas City, elusive canyons on the West Rim, finally landing in Zion with her deep red mountains towering all around us.
Then the day arrived — the day we hiked Angels Landing.
Let me start by stating we had no intention of hiking Angels Landing that day or any other day prior. My husband is fearful of heights and told me that he would never do this hike in his lifetime. I have not attempted to solo hike as I am unsure if I would enjoy the experience without at least one companion to high-five at the summit.
Hence, the plan for that morning was to hike up to Scott’s Lookout, a 3.5-mile hike (that gives way to Angels Landing trailhead at its summit), perch ourselves on the landing, and watch other hikers attempt the famous trail.
We set out at 6:30 am when it was pitch dark outside, driving through the winding roads of Zion. As the sun started to make its way up the horizon, I could see the Zion peaks slowly revealing their mighty selves towering over one another. Each of them, majestic against the dawn sky, appeared to me as if they were each giant Gods.
Whether it was a spiritual awakening or not, I do not know, but I can attest that the massive peaks in the dawn sky made me nervous and somehow comfortably afraid.
We arrived at the park shuttle area, packed with enthusiastic early-bird hikers. Everyone seemed to get down at Angels Landing stop. We are not ill-prepared hikers, but the Angels Landing hike was not something on our google search (in hindsight, that helped us) so, we did not know which mountain to start climbing.
So, when everyone jumped out, some turning left and others right, we decided to follow the larger group. Well as it turns out, they were speeding their way to the restrooms and not the trail. After 5 minutes of aimless wandering to find the trailhead, we saw it and began our journey. Several hikers passed us — old, young, solo, and many Europeans. I would play ‘guess the country’ in my head as they overtook us, excitedly chattering away in their language.
The hike to Scott’s Lookout point was grueling as it was a steep uphill. I paused multiple times along the trail to gulp down liters of water and munch on Nutri bars like a famished hostel kid returning home to their mom’s cooking after the school semester.
About an hour in, I was exhausted and thought, I might not attempt even a part of the Angels hike since it was a dangerous and narrow climb.
Just when I thought the hard part of our Scott’s Lookout hike was over, came the twenty-one tortuous switchbacks. These were serpentine paths that climbed 250 feet in a short distance. I would take my brother’s excruciating (and annoying) one hundred squats-a-day challenge over this, any day.
After numerous stops for water, with my knees buckling, we finally saw the end — Scott’s Lookout. The views were spectacular, with majestic and rocky mountains stretching all around, and packs of people perched on the landing, staring up.
That is when I saw it — the famous Angels Landing.
Not having researched the famous trail, I could not tell where the summit of Angels Landing was. I could see clusters of people scrambling their way up a narrow strip of a gigantic mountain with the help of a single rackety chain.
My heart started tugging at me. I wanted to break out of my comfort zone and see how far I could go before fear knocked on my door. I was terrified looking at the long and narrow strip of the mountain bearing the weight of numerous people, all of whom were holding on dearly to a single rackety chain. It was not the fear of heights but the precariousness of the chains that scared me.
I told myself that I should begin the hike and turn back as soon as I sensed danger. My husband decided to stay. Deep in my heart, I knew I won’t go all the way to the top if I had to make it alone. Someday I will learn to hike solo, but I decided honeymoon was not the time to try single life.
The initial part of the climb was terrifying, since it involved walking on unstable rocks that sloped down into an abyss, people holding onto the tiny chain, rattling, and twisting it as they climbed, while another set of people attempting to come down the slope using the same chain.
I was shaken but knowing I wasn’t going the whole way, I trudged on. About ten minutes later, I realized I had left my Angels Landing pass with my husband, which was required to hike the trail. I made my way back down the treacherous path.
I found my husband, who then began to follow me as I made my way back up the trail. I told him sternly not to follow me and warned him several times that he should turn as soon as he was scared. I would also turn back with him. He nodded but looked determined. Something in him was pushing him to forge ahead.
Later he told me he overheard a funny couple where the guy was loudly proclaiming his nervousness. His girlfriend told him, “You are going to feel bad if you came all the way here and not see it till the end.” My husband may have taken it as a challenge to get out of his comfort zone that day, and see how far he could push himself. In a way, I was doing the same thing, hiking up a path, not knowing how treacherous it could be.
This time it felt different.
With my best friend by my side and the gorgeous stretch of deep red mountains all around me, I had a sudden boost of optimism. We were cautious and slow as we placed our foot one step at a time, holding onto the chains, looking up to figure out the distance to the summit, and continued to trek.
Since it was only a single path to go up and down, we let people pass us and waited patiently, as people hankered down after finishing their hike. This did not feel like the switchbacks earlier, which was physically draining me every second. All the exhaustion was mental — not knowing where the summit was and the narrowness of the trail ahead.
On one side, we had our friend, the chain, and beyond that- a bottomless void, while on the other was the mountain herself. I felt protected by her.
Was it an hour more or 3 hours? Where is the summit? We had no clue.
We were thinking to ourselves that we might turn back because there seemed to be no visible end and fear of the unknown felt unsettling. That is when our fellow hikers gave us a renewed sense of hope. The people climbing back down and passing us by kept cheering us on, “You’re almost there, keep it up.”
We both looked at each other incredulously. Was this it? Are we going all the way? All along, our motto was, turn back when it gets dangerous, safety first.
And now we were almost there. Both of us were energized and determined to go the distance now. After 2 hours or so, we reached the summit, and what an incredible sight it was.
A large patch of grey stone rocks opened into a panoramic view of the gorgeous mountains. We could see each mountain having different layers of colors and each layer evidencing the time period of their formation. The bottom layer was lush green in color with vegetation, and the middle layers were sand and light brown colored. The topmost layer was the deep beautiful red.
After a grueling hour of scrambling through narrow pathways, the large gray stone slabs making incredible seating spaces were a welcome surprise. It was as if the Zion Gods were greeting and rewarding us for the journey. We looked around, taking in our view slowly, seeing mountain peaks stretch for miles, peaks that we could not see from Scott’s or in our drive through Zion. The Colorado river that created these canyons was meandering far below us.
Standing on a peak as high as the tallest peaks surrounding us after several hours of mental and physical exhaustion provided a sense of gratification and accomplishment, that I had not experienced before. We could see hikers several thousand feet below, beginning their journey at the Angel trailhead — just like we did.
We sat on a giant rock and started devouring our sandwiches when we heard a gleeful squeal. Looking over, we saw a couple hugging each other, smiling and crying with joy. They just got engaged on this magnificent mountain. My husband and I looked at each other and smiled, reminded of our proposal. It was also after a strenuous hike up the beautiful Rockies of Colorado. That day true to our nature, there were no tears. Only an awkward hug to seal the deal as we were rallied on by our equally surprised friends.
Smiling ear to ear, we decided to head back and take a well-deserved nap. As we were making our way down, we encouraged people nearing the top the same way the other hikers did for us, because we never know who may almost give up and have missed that wonderful feeling — an amalgamation of exhilaration, exhaustion, and gratification when they reach the top.
Never know that they too — are capable.
Times like this help reinforce my belief in my connection with nature, as she draws me in with her grandeur and inspires me to push myself and dream big. My eyes sparkling with excitement, I float down our trail, enchanted and full of hope for what future journeys may hold.
The mountains will always call me, and I will always go.
