When my college roommates decided several months ago on going mountain biking and hiking in Zion National Park, I was in. The problem was that if the impact of running was causing my multitude of agonizing symptoms, the bone-jarring impact of mountain biking wouldn't help my recovery. After my diagnosis, I originally was going to cancel altogether. But after discussing it with my physical therapist, he thought some light hiking would be good for my treatment. What he didn't know (and what I didn't know) was that I would be joining my old friends on a strenuous, 1500 ft ascent up maybe the most dangerous path in the park. Angel's Landing, once known as The Temple of Aeolus, provides some of the most amazing views of Zion Canyon. It has also been the site of four deaths in the last five years, most recently that of a 55-year-old woman who was hiking with her husband and three children. If I had known the facts before the hike, I might have reconsidered. Of course I would then be subject to jokes and ridicule by my pleasant and caring friends of 25 years who may have come up with such endearing terms as wimp, gimp, old man, loser or even one too crude to type.
What intrigued me most about this challenge was that we would be climbing along the ridge, or "spine" of the mountain. Unlike the human spine, which I've discovered can be sturdy yet delicate, this spine was a massive hunk of unyielding solid rock. This spine has no worries about such conditions as stenosis or hyperkyphosis (although you might say it suffers from scoliosis by the way it winds side to side). No sports activity, car accident or disease is going to have an effect on this spine. It has been there for millions of years and assuming we don't blow up our planet, it will be there for millions more. It demands respect. And I felt that there was no better way to show my respect than to follow it's tempting path all the way to the top.
The first two miles are not so bad. It is a very steep climb, much of which is along a maintained path. There are no railings, however, and it is best to stay away from the sheer cliff that drops straight down into the canyon. Once you reach Scout's Landing, about 1000 feet up, you can rest a moment and enjoy the views. Most say "that wasn't so bad," but it's the final half mile that is humbling. Many turn around and quit this leg right after they start it. The single lane path is along a very steep and narrow sandstone ridge. They have put some chains along some of the trail for assistance, but it doesn't provide a whole lot of comfort when it seems like a small gust of wind could take you over the edge and to your untimely plunge into the depths below. This final stretch takes a while, as you must watch every step. If you encounter other hikers coming back down, it's a one-by-one decision as to who will "go around" the other, as the person who takes the outside path is just inches from the drop-off. The mental challenge is to not look down while at the same time respecting what you are up against. After about thirty minutes of this questionable precariousness, you finally reach the top. This is a moment of empowerment, with spectacular views in all directions. Much like the Grand Canyon, pictures can not fully show the magnitude and words can not tell the story. I can only say that if you ever have the chance to give it a try, do so. You can at least get to Scout's Landing and enjoy the comparable views. If you are lucky enough to be acrophobic or are blessed with good sense and sensibility, you will call it quits and let the others go on.
The greatest thing about this little outing was how I handled it physically. My little spine seemed to handle this massive spine valiantly. I believe it was because the impact was minimal. While you use a lot of upper body strength on the ascent, movement is slow and meticulous. My physical therapy takes a new step soon as we will be attempting some short bursts of impact on the treadmill. I'm feeling confident as my back is feeling only minor stiffness and discomfort from the hike. The only significant pain I have is on the tips of my toes. The descent is just as precipitous and my toes were jamming into the front of each of my boots like five fat men in a smart car. There were never any warnings of this.
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