Utah – Emily Takes a Hike

January 7, 2021January 7, 2021

Zion National Park: Hiking to the Top of Angel’s Landing

This is a story about a hike that almost didn’t happen. My friend, Megan, and I travelled to southern Utah on our way to the north rim of the Grand Canyon, and we passed through Zion National Park. We planned to spend a day or two at Zion, but due to so many factors (mostly COVID, but also toxic bacteria in Virgin River and trail closures due to rock slides), we didn’t expect to do much more than pass through on our way to hike the most remote and difficult trail in the Grand Canyon (more to come on that in my next post). I can’t even remember which trail we’d planned to hike at Zion after our options became so involuntarily limited in the days leading up to our trip, but we were excited nonetheless. Zion National Park is iconic and gorgeous, and even when the must-do trails for first time visitors aren’t an option, I’m sure every hike in this park promises breathtaking views.

Angel’s Landing (center) as viewed from the trailhead

After entering the park, we boarded the shuttle to the now forgotten trail that we intended to hike. If you’re planning to visit Zion, put some advance research into how the shuttle system works, because tickets are limited by design, to protect the park’s fragile ecosystem (always) and to maintain COVID safety protocol (currently). While we were on the shuttle, we overheard someone seated behind us talking about their hike to the top of Angel’s Landing the previous day. This caught our attention, because we thought that the upper portion of this trail was closed due to COVID, based on the park’s website and AllTrails. Angel’s Landing is the most famous trail among countless incredible hiking options at Zion National Park and considered by many to be one of the very best hikes in America. However, climbing the upper section of this trail requires holding onto chains for support while traversing treacherously exposed sections of rocky terrain, hundreds of feet above the bottom of the canyon. Needless to say, social distancing isn’t an option and there’s simply no way to climb to the top without touching the same chains that hundreds of other hands have also recently touched.

After admitting to eavesdropping, Megan and I learned from the other bus passenger that the trail had just reopened a few days earlier and that the park intentionally avoided publicizing the news in hopes that foot traffic on this popular trail would remain light. Angel’s Landing should be on every thrill-seeking hiker’s bucket list, and 2020 has provided resounding evidence that life doesn’t guarantee or owe us anything. After a brief discussion and very little hesitation, Megan and I decided that we could not turn down the opportunity to hike this iconic trail, despite the risks. I’ve been careful and deferential about COVID protocols throughout this pandemic, but honestly, I followed my heart to the top of Angel’s Landing, with hand sanitizer and a mask in tow, and I have absolutely no regrets.

As a native of the Deep South, I’m highly superstitious, not just a little stitious (shoutout to my fellow fans of The Office), and I believe that my lucky cactus shirt played a crucial role in making this hike possible.

Bottom to top, this hike packs in magnificent views. There isn’t a single section of this trail that won’t make your Instagram followers drool with envy, but this hike (and pretty much every other hike) delivers significantly more value than attention on social media. It’s an experience, and one so unique that photos and videos can’t adequately document the journey to the top of this monolith. The impact of this hike goes so far beyond visual appeal, and as vivid as the views will remain in my memory, the emotions and the adrenaline rush are what I’ll always value most from this epic adventure.

The five-mile (roundtrip) hike to the top of Angel’s Landing begins at the Grotto trailhead, located across the road from shuttle stop 6. Before embarking on this journey, hikers can and should take advantage of the bathroom facilities and water station near the shuttle stop. From the trailhead, this hike follows a paved trail with a steady but moderate incline for about a mile on the approach to the first set of switchbacks. This is where the trail really begins to climb at a steeper grade, offering sweeping views of the valley below. After the first set of switchbacks, the trail flattens for about half a mile and moves in a straight line along a creek that flows through a narrow gap between towering red rock walls. After about a mile and a half of hiking, we reached the bottom of a brutally steep set of 21 switchbacks known as Walter’s Wiggles. The Wiggles are affectionately named after Zion National Park’s first superintendent, Walter Ruesch, who built these switchbacks into the side of the mountain in 1926.

Megan and I didn’t take any photos on the Wiggles because we were so focused on the climb, but here’s a photo from the first set of switchbacks. The trail was steep, but the views were spectacular.

From an endurance standpoint, the Wiggles are arguably the most challenging part of this hike, but overall, the most difficult part of the journey doesn’t begin until you reach the chains. At the top of the Wiggles, there’s a beautiful overlook (and “emergency-only” toilets, whatever that means), and the route along the chains to the summit of Angel’s Landing finally comes into view. Many hikers choose not to continue beyond the overlook, as this final section certainly isn’t for everyone. It’s an intimidating sight, and in practice, this climb is every bit as steep and perilous as it looks. The trail is usually too narrow to accommodate two-way traffic, which can be problematic due to the volume of hikers you’re sure to encounter here, even during a global pandemic. One slip or misstep could send you, and potentially others around you, tumbling to a certain death at the bottom of the canyon. We hiked this trail at 9 AM on a Tuesday in late September, when the park allegedly wasn’t advertising that the upper section of the trail had reopened, and the place was still dangerously crowded. Stopping to let someone approaching from the opposite direction pass just isn’t an option along many of the climb’s narrow stretches, so it’s crucial to stay aware of your surroundings and be considerate of other hikers. When the trail is busy, expect to spend most of your time on this part of the hike waiting on others.

After reaching the top, it’s easy to see what all the fuss is about. The stunning 360 degree views from the summit of Angel’s Landing certainly justify the heart-pounding anxiety of getting there. Many words come to mind that could describe how I felt when we finally reached the top, but the one that resonates the most is triumphant. Also, the summit is shockingly flat and spacious compared to the trail, so there’s plenty of room to socially distance yourself from the swarms of other hikers. We lingered for a while, taking photos from every angle despite knowing that we’d never really be able to capture this place accurately and comprehensively enough to demonstrate its immense beauty.

The views from the top of Angel’s Landing are truly (forgive the pun, I’m completely shameless) heavenly.

On the descent, we passed even more hikers than we’d seen on the journey to the top. This made me feel uneasy, not necessarily because of COVID, but because some of the hikers we passed were behaving recklessly and with little concern for the potential impact of their actions on others. While I’d recommend this hike to anyone (anyone without a fear of heights, that is) visiting Zion National Park, I’d advise starting earlier than we did or going later in the afternoon. Hopefully, the park will eventually implement a permit system to limit the risk of accidents due to overcrowding on this trail. Reportedly, at least 15 people have fallen to their deaths while hiking at Angel’s Landing, but there’s no way to know if any of those accidents could have been prevented by limiting the number of hikers allowed on the trail per day. Additionally, this unique and fragile landscape would surely benefit from lighter and more precisely managed foot traffic. Regardless, I’m grateful for chatty strangers on buses and spontaneous friends who share my appetite for adventure.

The upper section of the trail includes about half a mile of this, and it’s absolutely worth the anxiety.

BONUS: If y’all have been following along, you know I love a short, easy sunset hike. On the evening before our epic ascent to the top of Angel’s Landing, Megan and I squeezed in a stunning hike along the Zion Canyon Overlook Trail. It’s only a mile (roundtrip) and absolutely manageable for hikers of all ages and skill levels. The views from the overlook are magnificent, and there’s no shuttle pass required for this hike. Parking at the trailhead is very limited, so you’ll likely have to park on the side of the road and walk a quarter of a mile or so to the trailhead. However, the views are unbelievable, especially considering the minimal amount of effort required to reach the overlook.

Megan, enjoying the final moments of a glorious sunset from the Zion Canyon Overlook

February 12, 2020

Hiking Near Salt Lake City: Lake Blanche Trail

In the midst of an emotionally turbulent weekend, celebrating my cousin’s wedding in Salt Lake City and mourning the sudden loss of my grandmother back in Nashville, I hiked Lake Blanche Trail in Wasatch National Forest. I explored this trail two days after an incredible hiking experience on Antelope Island in the Great Salt Lake with my parents, and my beloved grandmother unexpectedly passed on the day in between these two hikes. The trails pass through vastly different environments, despite their proximity to each other. They lie on opposite sides of Salt Lake City, separated by an hour-long drive, but they may as well exist on two different planets. This profoundly resonated with me, and still does, because in the midst of simultaneous joy and tragedy, I felt very thinly stretched between two extreme states of mind. The severe highs and lows aggravated emotional wounds that hadn’t yet healed after losing my grandfather only three months earlier and a week after mine and Andy’s wedding celebration in Nashville. I can’t really describe the amount of joy that my wedding brought into my life at a time when I so desperately needed it. However, the grief of losing my grandfather at the same time, filled me with so many intense and conflicting emotions, and all of these returned in full force when my grandmother passed away the day before my cousin’s wedding.

Lake Blanche, frozen and magnificent beneath the gorgeous profile of Sundial Peak

My hike to Lake Blanche, on my cousin’s wedding day and in the immediate aftermath of my grandmother’s death, felt incredibly selfish. I can’t think of a more accurate way to describe how I felt about it as soon as my boots hit the dirt. I honestly don’t know if I process grief in a healthy way, but I do know that the part of sadness that I struggle with most is the suffocating weight of it. I need room to breathe and time alone to grieve, and this (unsurprisingly) can create an inadvertent distance that raises concern among people around me who rely on the community of loved ones to carry them through difficult times. I certainly appreciate the power of family and togetherness in times of joy and sorrow, but I have little faith in my ability to provide comfort to others when the burden of our collective grief makes all my words and actions feel so insignificant. So much sadness under one roof just makes me feel like we’re all being buried alive by circumstances beyond what we can control. Spending time alone outside helps me find the clarity and strength that I need to heal.

There’s so much about my experience on the trail to Lake Blanche that felt surreal, but I can say with unflinching certainty that I felt the presence of my grandparents on this hike. Maybe that feeling was just the result of wishful thinking during a time of immense vulnerability. They never hiked this trail, but I felt their presence there as strongly as I felt the crisp mountain wilderness around me. This hike was a deeply personal experience for me, and as a result, I’ve been on the fence about sharing it. However, I’ve learned that writing about my hikes, especially the ones I take while I’m experiencing significant life events off the trail, helps me process my thoughts and emotions in a more rational way. Hindsight from a comfortable distance often provides perspective that makes me feel just a little less crazy than I may have in the moment.

I shed my outer layer to pose for a photo taken by the one other hiker I saw at the crest above Lake Blanche. It seemed like a good idea at first, but it was also 20 degrees and very windy, so that lasted exactly as long as the photo op.

Logistically, the trail to Lake Blanche and back covers about 7 miles and almost 3,000 feet of elevation gain. This one burns the glutes, but it’s entirely beautiful. As the trail climbs, the views get bigger and the spaces between patches of sparkling snow and ice get smaller. Hiking here in late November, on the verge of winter, I felt grateful for the opportunity to experience this trail just days before it’d become indistinguishable beneath a thick blanket of snow. Snow and ice presented a challenge in some places, especially on the upper mile or so of trail, but I didn’t use crampons or microspikes and managed to stay upright with some careful foot placement when necessary. The weather forecast on the day after my hike predicted at least a couple of inches of snow, which would have complicated this hike that’s far from easy under the most ideal conditions. The opportunity to hike this trail, on what may very well have been the final day before winter truly encompassed the area, felt like a magnificent and much needed byproduct of divine intervention.

This one’s easily among my favorite photos from any of my hikes from 2019. This is the final segment of trail to the crest above Lake Blanche. The lake isn’t visible yet, but the tree line has faded into the background, and Sundial Peak dominates the skyline.

Start to finish, views of stunning peaks and serene woodlands surround the trail to Lake Blanche on all sides. Everything within sight, in every direction I turned, appeared to be so naturally and majestically flawless. The trail’s strenuous and rocky incline, combined with the altitude, exhausted my body. Mentally and spiritually, however, I’ve hardly ever felt more alive and energetic. AllTrails and many other sources rank the trail to Lake Blanche as one of Utah’s very best, which shouldn’t be taken lightly in a state that’s home to five national parks and some of the country’s most diverse environments. After experiencing this trail for myself, during a time of seasonal (and personal) transition nonetheless, I’m a believer. I can’t appropriately capture the trail’s immense natural beauty with words or photos.

Even the lower section of the trail provided breathtaking and snow speckled views of the Wasatch National Forest during the final days of Fall.

The trail offers plenty of panoramic mountain views on the way up, but Lake Blanche isn’t visible from the trail until its crest at nearly 9,000 feet. The frozen lake, sparkling beneath the mighty profile of Sundial Peak, comes into view all at once in a moment of triumph after a grueling ascent. That’s the moment when I felt the presence of my grandparents more strongly than any other on this hike. I heard their voices and felt the excitement in their cheers as my tired body finally emerged on the rocky terrain above the edge of the lake. They followed my hiking journey more closely than anyone and loved hearing stories from my experiences. They read every blog post and cherished the photos I’d send after every new hike. They traveled all over the world when they were healthy enough to do so, and I believe they saw something of themselves in me as I developed a similar passion for exploring new places. I believe that brought them joy, and I find comfort in knowing that their everlasting spirits can experience these wild and wonderful places with me now.

When it’s hard to find something to smile about, go outside.

The purity of the Wasatch National Forest and the trail to Lake Blanche that runs through it, somehow made me feel simultaneously vulnerable and invincible. I needed to feel vulnerable to open myself up to the healing process, and I needed to hike this very challenging trail by myself to affirm the strength and courage I’d rely on to carry me through the difficult days ahead. Adjusting to life without their physical presence hasn’t been easy, but the legacy they’ve left behind inspires me to continue writing my own adventure. And from this first adventure after grandmother’s death until the day when I take my final hike, I know they’ll be with me every step of the way.

The blazing sun manifests itself in most of my photos from this hike, and even in the sub-freezing temps, the sunlight warmed my body. I like to think my grandparents nudged God about keeping me warm, in that affectionate but really persistent way that only grandparents have.

January 20, 2020January 22, 2020

Hiking Near Salt Lake City: Antelope Island State Park

November of 2019 was a month of firsts for me. It was a time of transition, vulnerability, and new beginnings. As I write this post in January of 2020, well beyond the hustle of the holiday season, I’ve spent the last few weeks trying to decide which of the two epic hikes I took in Utah in November to write about here. Since my New Year’s Resolution has been to take at least one new hike every month and document my experience, I’ve been so focused on writing about just that: a single hike every month, even in months when I’ve hiked more than one new trail. It took a month like this past November to make me rethink that mindset, not because of the trails I hiked, but because of the significance and stability of my monthly ritual during a time when so much else around me felt chaotic. My new hikes are always meaningful, but in some months, I need a higher dose of that sacred time of exploration. I’ll dive deeper into that later, but right now, I want to jump right into reliving my incredible experience at Antelope Island State Park, located a short drive west of Salt Lake City, Utah.

This is me, hiking on Antelope Island along the coast of the Great Salt Lake, in my New Orleans Saints hat, because my football allegiances are almost as important to me as hiking adventures, and I combine the two whenever I can.

I’d never been to Utah, so when I had the opportunity to travel to Salt Lake City for my cousin’s wedding in November of 2019, I decided to extend the trip and explore a couple of the area’s countless hiking trails. Winter arrives much earlier in Utah than it does in Tennessee, so I wanted to do some research to narrow down my realistic options. More importantly, this was my first opportunity to hike a new trail with my parents, who have been so encouraging and steadfast throughout my hiking journey. I wanted to find a trail that was close to Salt Lake City but removed enough to provide uninterrupted views of the Utah landscape. Also, I wanted to find a trail that all three of us could safely and comfortably enjoy. My sophisticated research strategy (Google) provided many viable options, but as soon as I discovered Antelope Island State Park, I knew I’d found our ideal hiking destination.

My parents are the cutest, and I’m so happy that we were able to experience this amazing place together.

When I saw the word “island” in the name of this state park in the middle of Utah, I had some questions. Eventually, I learned that Antelope Island is only an island sometimes, depending on the tide, and that the Great Salt Lake is plenty big enough to contain a 42-square-mile mountainous land mass that appears as nothing more than a tiny peninsula on state maps. The geography of Salt Lake City and its surroundings is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. The lush mountains immediately east of the city receive glorious amounts of pristine snow that attracts flocks of enchanted winter sports enthusiasts from around the globe. To the immediate east, there’s Antelope Island and the Great Salt Lake, a hauntingly beautiful desert landscape of treeless, mountainous terrain and colorful waters as still and reflective as mirrors.

Antelope Island, located barely west of Salt Lake City, offers couldn’t be more different from my familiar hiking destinations at home in Tennessee, and I loved every minute of the newness and uniqueness of this beautiful place.

I haven’t found an online map or trail guide that accurately documents the trail that my parents and I explored. We hiked the Lakeside Trail, which is easy to find if you follow the road signs to White Rocks Bay after entering the park, but the AllTrails and Hiking Project directions will lead you to a trailhead that only allows overnight camper parking, not day parking for non-campers. Follow the signs to White Rocks Bay, and you’ll see signs for Lakeside Trail after the turn off. The Lakeside Trail runs for three breathtakingly beautiful miles along the rocky shoreline above the Great Salt Lake, and there’s a new two-mile segment that connects the outermost points on the trail along the coast to each other via an inland segment. This creates a five-mile loop packed with impressive views of the Great Salt Lake and its surrounding mountains and rock formations.

My parents and I hiked this trail clockwise, but if I were to go back (and I sincerely hope that happens soon), I’d hike it counterclockwise. There isn’t any significant elevation gain or loss on the trail, so the physical effort would remain the same regardless of direction. We hiked the coastal portion of the trail first though, which meant that for the majority of the two inland miles, we had our backs to the lake and mountain views. The prairie landscape was gorgeous, and the small herd of wild buffalo that we encountered at very close range while on the inland trail segment was undoubtedly one of the best things I’ve experienced on any of my hikes. However, If we’d hiked counterclockwise, we’d have hiked past the buffalos during the first mile, and then turned a corner that would have positioned us to view the mountains rising above the lake and prairie in between for a mile or so before reaching the magnificent coastal segment.

The coastal trail segment provided epic views of the lake and many unique rock formations that created a stunning backdrop for our hike.

Hiking clockwise, we still experienced no shortage of incredible views. Hiking on a treeless island creates longer lines of sight than what I’m used to in the intimate woodlands and gulfs of Tennessee. The views of the lake and the mountains from the very beginning of the coastal segment were nothing short of spectacular, and we timed our hike perfectly. We hiked the Lakeview Trail on a Friday in late November, and we encountered about three other hiking parties during our entire time spent on the five-mile trail. I knew that my parents and I would thoroughly love this hike as soon as we got out of the car in the parking lot at the trailhead. When I’ realized we’d see more buffalos than humans on this hike, however, that was when I knew we were experiencing something truly special, and that this place and our timing was more perfect than I ever could have imagined it’d be.

From the trailhead, we hiked along a rugged, yet well blazed, trail that ran parallel to the shoreline of the Great Salt Lake. Frary Peak, the highest mountain on the island, towered above us on the left, high above White Rocks Bay, an inlet off the Great Salt Lake that’s named for a large and (you guessed it) white rock formation rising out of its waters. As we hiked closer toward the coast from the trailhead, we noticed the herd of buffalos less than half a mile into our hike and took a detour to get a closer look, not realizing that what we thought was a spur trail into the prairie was actually the back end of the loop we’d eventually make. Regardless, it was a short and worthwhile detour, and the buffalos were still in the area when we looped around at the end of the hike. The buffalos on the island are docile and accustomed to the presence of humans, so even when the trail passed within a few feet of a buffalo, we never felt threatened or uncomfortable. Hiking in such close proximity to a wild animal that big, and feeling perfectly safe while doing so, felt so surreal and exhilarating. Before our hike here, I’d learned that the island was home to Utah’s largest herd of wild buffalos, but I still didn’t expect to see so many of them at close range.

No zoom on this one, I promise. The island itself was gorgeous enough, but the buffalos were icing on the cake.

Seeing the buffalos at close range was such a memorable and rewarding part of our experience at Antelope Island State Park.

After returning to the coastal segment of the Lakeside Trail, we hiked across rocky but moderate terrain as the trail traversed the slopes above the shore of the lake and below Buffalo Point, an overlook accessible by car from the inland side. We drove up to Buffalo Point after our hike to take in the stunning views of the expansive scenery from a higher vantage point. There’s also a short trail from the parking lot at Buffalo Point that leads up to the summit, with amazing 360 degree views on the way up. It’s a quick and easy way to access some of the island’s best views of the lake, mountains, and local wildlife.

As we moved forward along the trail, we experienced truly magnificent views of the Great Salt Lake, a still and pristine body of water with mountains surrounding it on all sides. It was a cloudy day, but the landscape reflected a rainbow of colors. The brilliant bluish grey lake transformed into greenish gold when the sunlight hit it just right. The yellow fields of prairie grass created a perfect frame for rust colored boulders against that stunning silvery backdrop of the salt lake and the distant mountains rising above it on the opposite shore. If my description sounds overly romantic, that’s because this landscape presented an experience that was so unlike anything I’d ever seen before. I’ve hiked extensively through the wild forests and waterfalls of Tennessee. I’ve climbed mountains in Colorado and hiked through various other gorgeous spaces in this country. This hike stands out among the rest. I’d never hiked through a prairie surrounded by mountains. I’d never seen a body of water as large and as still as the Great Salt Lake. I’d never hiked within several feet of a thousand-pound animal and felt thoroughly comfortable and safe.

I felt like I was standing in front of a painting throughout this hike, and the rich colors of that desert landscape still amaze me.

The day that we hiked at Antelope Island was such an immensely happy day for me and my parents, and at the time, we didn’t know how much we’d need that glorious escape from the chaos of the days to come. We didn’t know that my grandmother would pass away unexpectedly the following day. We didn’t know about the turmoil and tension that would accompany her death, and we didn’t know that for the second time in three months, we’d lose a family member within a few days of celebrating another family member’s wedding.

The unpredictable chaos of life has only increased my appreciation for the time I have set aside to regularly explore new hiking trails. Sometimes it feels selfish, and other times it feels difficult to find the time to devote to this passion of mine. The reassuring constant, however, is the refreshing and healing quality of the time I’ve contributed to my adventures in the wild. With hikes like this one at Antelope Island State Park, a place I’d never have encountered by accident, I’m reminded of the bigger picture. Setting time aside for yourself, to do something you love or something that helps you feel balanced, may not always make sense in that moment, but it can provide so much inner peace and clarity to carry you through the unexpected that lies ahead. There’s beauty in the chaos, and small moments of happiness and routine can offer comfort in times of sadness or transition if we just let them.