National Park Tour - Zion Park - Tuesday 5/29/07

This morning while I was eating one of my many breakfasts of sugary cereal in a tiny box, I met one of my neighbors. He was a psychologist from Vermont. We chatted a bit about travel, and he told me I should go to Europe and India if I got the opportunity.

After breakfast, I drove down into the valley, flashed my annual pass, parked at the Visitor Center and hopped on the shuttle. I got off at Weeping Rock and motored up the short trail. True to its name, it was a rock that appeared to weep. The best part about it was the hanging gardens. I didn’t stick around long; easy, paved trails like this one tend to attract mobs of the more irritating-type tourists.

From Weeping Rock I continued on to Hidden Canyon. I enjoyed the mostly-paved, beautiful climb up the Zion Canyon wall bordered with wildflowers and nice views of Big Bend and Angel's Landing. Up near the mouth of Hidden Canyon, the trail was carved into the face of an 800 ft sandstone cliff, which explained the stick figure in peril at the trailhead warning those fearful of heights. The trail was wide enough not to need it, but the park service hung a chain along the rock as if to provide reassurance. I smiled as I remembered Angel's Landing. Compared to those heights, this trail was a piece of cake.

At the mouth of Hidden Canyon, gratuitous little stairs had been carved into the rock to help us up to the main attraction. I tried to picture the trail builders sculpting them as they neared completion of the trail. Nice touch.

Once I climbed the little sandstone steps to the mouth of the canyon, I saw a little sign informing me that the trail ends here and some scrambling may be required to continue. Apparently, the Park Service decided they could stop holding our little hands at this point. I grinned as I passed another hiker looking confused as he stared at the rocks ahead muttering something about not wanting to have to do something called "scramble... whatever that means" after hiking all that way up here. I hopped on the rock and climbed on up. If he wanted to stay behind and complain, that was fine with me. The fewer people in my way up the canyon the better. My new Merrills stuck nicely to the sandstone as I climbed up the rocks and the beach-like sand on the canyon floor was nice to jump into when I climbed down.

On my way up the canyon, I noticed a narrow little slot to my right with footprints in the sand leading up. I couldn’t resist a little adventurous detour, so I took off my pack and squeezed through to see what was up there. This was the highlight of my hike. The sandstone walls were carved into smooth and colorful patterns unlike any of the others I came across.

I squeezed back down and retrieved my pack and then continued up the canyon, snapping pictures of cool rock archways and blue lizards. When I reached a dry fall that was higher than I felt like climbing, I turned around.

At the trailhead, I stopped at the creek below Weeping Rock to check out some little fish I noticed on the way up. I took some pictures of them and then picked up a bunch of other people’s trash. Batteries, cigarette butts, band-aids, paper towels, drink bottles. Disgusting. I tried to let go of the bitterness as soon as I could. It seems Zion not only has strata of rocks, it has strata of tourists. The lower the elevation, the more disrespectful they get.

I chucked the trash in a bin, went back down to the creek to wash my hands, and got back on the shuttle to get to the Emerald Pools trailhead. The trail is a loop, and I began going left, which to me was easier because you get the long way going up and the short, steep way going down. The Upper Pool was big and surrounded with colossal canyon cliffs, but was very crowded so I didn't stay long. On the way down to Middle Pool I took some pictures of a big rock that somehow had become completely covered in little cairns of all sizes. I like to see the little human sides to these trails.

I passed by the Middle Pool and saw a little boy living the dream (wading) in it, even though swimming was not allowed. I wished I was his age so I could get away with it too, because it was a hot day. The Lower Pool had a waterfall that the trail moves behind. Today it was just a drip, like spray from a garden hose that moved back and forth with the breeze. I thought it was too bad Karl and I didn’t make it up here in 2005 after all the snowmelt. The waterfall was probably roaring that weekend and it would have been cool to walk behind it, assuming the trail was not blocked off.

After this hike I felt like I had had enough for one day and got back on the shuttle for the Visitor Center. It was full of old folks. I reckoned they were the only other people with time off this time of year.

One man with a wild white beard was joking with some other passengers about Henderson, NV; sort of defending it as a nice place to live. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it was hard not to, because the seats in the front of the bus (where I was) faced the aisle and he was sitting in the first seat in back that faced forward. Anyway, I was smiling inwardly because I liked that he was so chipper.

His new friends got off the bus and shortly after, the tiny, frail little woman I barely noticed was sitting next to him passed out. He noticed right away and was very concerned, caressing her face and asking “Pam? Pam? Are you conscious?”

Then suddenly she came to in a panic, arms flailing and shouting “What happened?” By this time most of the other passengers were watching and we jumped in our seats in surprise.

He tried to reassure her, saying soothingly “It’s OK, we’re on a bus.”

I didn’t hear her, but some of the other busybodies on the bus repeated that she needed to get off the bus because she was not feeling well. We arrived at the next stop and he supported her off the bus. The driver and other passengers were very concerned, and everyone offered to help or radio for a ranger. The old man declined, his focused priority was getting her off the bus. Sure enough, as soon as she was off, she got sick. Some passengers got off to help and offer her water. It was a hot day.

I watched feeling sorry for her, grateful for my youth and good health, and proud of the little old Santa man for being such a hero to his wife.

As we pulled away, I noticed the other passengers whispering about the incident. Then at the stop sign to get back on the main road, someone said “Look!”

We turned and saw a mule deer with a lame right rear leg hobble up the hill towards the last stop, graciously giving the passengers something else to whisper about.

Once back at the Visitor Center, I filled up my eight gallon water jug and lugged it back to the car. Lava Point is a beautiful, tiny campground full of Aspen trees, White Fir, and Ponderosa Pines. The tent sites are level and smooth, they have huge nice fire pits, and cute wooden picnic tables. Each site has its own locking trash container, meaning no trips to a smelly dumpster. The toilets must have some sort of miraculous composing substance, because they don’t stink as bad as most. The park also hangs flypaper inside the outhouse and provides hand sanitizer (I thought this such a nice touch). I think I mentioned earlier that it is free. Overall, Lava Point is a very pleasant place to stay. The only catch is, there is no water, so you have to pack in your own for drinking, cooking or washing. Hence the water jug.

I decided tonight would be dutch oven roast turkey night. I went down to Hurricane and bought the groceries. As I was preparing the food, I noticed my frozen turkey breast looked a bit taller than my dutch oven. Sure enough, when I put it in, the lid wouldn’t close. No choice but to saw the top part of the breast off with my knife and cook it alongside the rest.

The turkey was absolutely delicious, and not just because I was starving. By the time I had sawed it apart and cooked it an extra hour to make up for it being frozen, I didn’t get to eat it until 10 or 11 at night! It was so worth the wait. Best camp dinner ever. Yum.