Phthursday Musings: Humans in Zion National Park

Just under a month ago, we spent parts of three days at Zion National Park in southern Utah. It’s taken a little while to get to writing about Zion proper, the brokem clavicle being the biggest challenge. I think though that there’s also this: I wanted this to be a Very Important Trip. Before, during, and after, I have tried to figure out how to speak to that, not just through writing, but also on the very personal level. I haven’t wanted to reduce it all to just another travelogue.

While in Utah, I started reading Edward Abbey’s Desert Solitaire, largely about his experiences in the 1950s as a Park Service ranger at what was then Arches National Monument. I finished last week, and immediately started reading Dan Egan’s The Death and Life of the Great Lakes. And I am finding that my perspective on The West is thoroughly colored by my perspective on The Middle West. All of this… kind of needs to be separated out. So I’ll return to it all in future weeks.

For now, some travelogue:

Just a bit about Zion proper. In simplest terms, what you’ve got is a canyon system flanked by tall red sandstone cliffs. The town of Springdale is roughly 4,000 feet above sea level, while Zion’s cliffs get up to just under 7,000 feet. Here’s a little map, courtesy of the U.S. Geologic Survey:

And a map from the Park Service, for reference as to where we went:

(As an aside: when I’m reading about unfamiliar geographic places, I love a map being included for reference. Yeah, I can go look it up. But authors: include maps, darn it!)

So I was concerned about how much walking / hiking my glorious child could handle. See, a 9 year old human has the remarkable ability to completely run out of usable energy sooner than adults of the species… and then to spectacularly refill the tank in miraculous time. The adults, meanwhile, if you just don’t push us too hard all at once, it’s like we’ve got an auxiliary tank. Because, you know, we do. It’s called double to triple the body mass. The catch is that when we run out of energy, there’s a lot more tank to fill up. So the 9 year old human can be ready to go again when ain’t nobody goin’ nowhere, thank you very much.

For the first day of hiking, then, I chose a shorter, simpler path, the Lower Emerald Pool trail. On the second map you can see this as a 1 mile round trip over the left / west of the Zion Lodge, right in the middle. When you get to the end, there’s a pool down below you, and you’re behind a small waterfall.

I think it was the novelty of it - oh, hey, we’re hiking, we’re a hiking family now! - which kind of informed the narrative of this particular expedition. Until we got started, got moving a little up the trail, I don’t think any of us really really got what we were there to do. And this child’s sponge of a mind continues to fascinate, how he soaks up each new experience and… then it’s just part of how things are. Hiking? Oh, yeah, I do that.

And what of the primacy of communing with nature, in one of the most stunning places on the planet? For me at least, I felt like I’d only gotten started with that… that I needed immersion, but had only just gotten my feet wet.

Emerald Pool ultimately wasn’t that long of a hike, but it was a very long excursion. This being the Sunday of a three day weekend with gorgeous weather, Zion was absolutely packed. We may have spent more time waiting in lines for shuttle busses than we did actually walking / hiking. I don’t begrudge the other people who were there, but it did feel like a weird way to try and, you know, be one with nature.

The next day we ventured a little farther, driving up the winding roadway to the east, through the big tunnel, to the Canyon Overlook trail. This was a longer hike, steeper, somewhat more difficult, with the trail largely covered with sand. There were fewer people. Once we actually hit the trail, it very quickly felt more like woah, we’re really doing something here.

As we got near the top of the Canyon Overlook, I really started to feel, yeah, this is what it’s about. There were a couple of narrow paths with scary looking dropoffs along the way, but it was all invigorating in a way I wasn’t used to feeling.

As I guessed though, we were near the top when our smallest party member started to run out of gas. We’d gotten lucky: this was probably the longest, most difficult hike we could have done. A longer one would have made for a grouchy summit and an especially difficult descent.

Our third day at Zion was short: a little trek to the Human History Museum, with some a final look at the red cliffs. The museum was small, but it helped tie a couple things together, helped me more deeply appreciate the weirdness and wonder of humans daily pouring into and out of the canyons like sands in a glorious hourglass.

Why does Zion exist? Is it there for us? If so, is it there as an instrument of inspiration, or is it a received responsibility?

My feeling is this: We are here, and Zion is here, and no Creator could want that we not splendor in, while also taking exceptional care of, such a tremendous creation. Zion is both inspiration and responsibility. How could it not be both? But this I will explore more later.

I wished we could have stayed another entire week. Indeed I wish we could have stayed another year. I wish we could be everywhere, all the time. My thirst for exploration won’t be quenched. But the craving for a grounding, for belonging, is often stronger. Conflicts like this are at the core of our existence. We can let them consume us, or we can let them fuel us. I prefer to be fueled. I never want to stop making these memories, building these understandings of an impossibly complex world. I’m fortunate to have found the weird people to share the journey with.