Climbing: Angel's Landing

The spring break of my freshman year, 2013, my four closest friends and I took a trip to Utah and Nevada. Over the week, we had the privilege of visiting some truly incredible places, namely Zion Canyon in Utah, and the Valley of Fire in Nevada. The point of our trip was two-fold; clearly, being college freshman, we wanted to get a little rowdy in the wilderness, but we also had a clear goal in mind for the length of the trip. Nature was something that none of us were able to enjoy enough, so we wanted to take a week and take advantage of this opportunity.

Hiking was what we did every single day. Whether it was 2 miles, or 12 miles, our rag-tag group would awake at the crack of dawn, scarf down some breakfast, and slip into our hiking boots. Starting out in the Valley of Fire, we were able to climb these truly awesome rock structures, formed over hundreds of thousands of years of wind, rain, rivers, and fire. These structures peppered the Martian red landscape for our brief time in Nevada, and it was a pleasure waking up every morning to the gaping mouth of canyons and the towering mountains we would spend all day on, just relaxing. Taking in the view.

What was easily the most terrifying and exhilarating experience of my life was our last hike: Angel’s Landing. Utah hosts many natural treasures, but this treacherous hike is the most notable in my mind. After winding up a mountain for an hour and a half, and as the true span of Zion slowly creeps into view we reached what we thought was the summit. After taking a moment to take in the breathtaking scenery of thousands of acres of forest, we decided to eat lunch. Turning to our right, however, we noticed another trail leading up and across the mountain. Turns out, we were only halfway done with the hike. To speak succinctly of the remainder of our journey, our group spent the next hour focused on our feet and the chain we were holding for balance. With never more than 3 feet of walk-able ridge at our toes, we were forced to utilize the anchored chain, which happened to be the only physical object stopping us from plunging down 1,200 feet on either side, into the dense forest. Only once we reached the summit, and were able to take in an exponentially larger Zion, was I able to rest and truly reflect on our current situation. We were the highest in all of the land. Our group had conquered nature, and was looking down as warriors upon our kingdom. Thoughts of God, war, and meditation danced around each other in my head, never reaching a static subject. And that was the best part. So many intuitions and experiences were berating my mind, I couldn’t help but to sit back, be mindful, and just be.