Friday, August 3, 2018

The Narrows

I'm sitting outside Deep Creek Coffee Company at 6:20 a.m. in Springdale, UT, a few blocks down from our hotel.  It's still dark, but the sky is slowly lightening up.  As I sip my coffee, I gaze to my right and see jagged peaks of some sandstone mountains.  It's a beautiful sight.  Cars drive by carrying people to Zion National Park to get an early start on hiking.

What a peaceful way to start our last day of vacation.

It's been a great week.  Great for our family and great for me.  More about the week and out time with Jude's college friends later.

This morning, I want to write about our day yesterday hiking in the Narrows, probably the signature hike in Zion National Park.  It's, in essence, a hike up the Virgin River through a series of slot canyons with the walls of the canyons rising hundreds of feet on both sides.  For much of the hike, we literally walked up the middle of the river, sometimes in ankle deep water and sometimes in thigh or waste deep water.  It was unique and amazing, probably one of those rare once in a lifetime experiences.

The danger of hiking the Narrows - or any slot canyon - is of a flash flood.  In 2015, eight people died in the Narrows when a flash flood hit without warning.  Once you're on the hike and in the slot canyon, there's no way for anyone to reach you or warn you because there's no cell service, obviously.  There are no park rangers in the Narrows and it's an out and back hike.  One way in and own way out.  

The danger of a flash flood is rated by the National Park Service every day.  Yesterday, the rating was "possible."  It's an art, not a science, because rain in much higher elevations, nowhere near Zion National Park and Springdale, UT, can cause a flash flood that arrives unexpectedly in the Narrows.  That's what happened on July 11, 2018, thankfully at night, when several trails were damaged. 

Wednesday night, we rented our gear from Zion Adventure Company - waterproof (sort of) hiking boots and walking sticks, critical for maintaining your balance in the river.  Our group got up early and left the hotel at 6:45 a.m.  We parked in the visitor's parking lot at the Park entrance, got on a shuttle and headed up to the last stop.  I dozed off and on during the 40-minute shuttle ride until we arrived at the last stop.

First, we hiked the River Walk, a mile long paved trail that led us to the entry point into the Virgin River.  It was a gorgeous morning, a little on the cool side.  We wore long sleeve pullovers or lightweight jackets, as it would be hours before the sun was directly overhead and reached the floor of the Canyon.  There were few people ahead or behind us, although that would change later.  Finally, we reached the end of the trial and into the Virgin River we went.

It's hard to describe what it was like hiking up the Virgin River.  Clambering over rocks, big and small, in the river, then walking for short periods on a narrow strip of sandy beach on the side of the river.  The walking sticks were a big help, especially in the river, because the footing was relatively treacherous.  The rocks weren't really slippery, per se, just uneven.  The toughest part, I think, was that since the water was muddy, it was impossible to see exactly where you were stepping or what your were stepping on, as a result of which there were many stumbles and near falls over submerged rocks big and small.  It was different, interesting and challenging.





The canyon walls towered above us on both sides for, as a I said, hundreds of feet straight up.  We could see a strip of blue sky above us, but that was all.  It was a strange sensation, for sure.

Jude and I figured Joe, the youngest in our group of 13, wouldn't last long, particularly after the mile long walk just to get the starting point.  The plan was for me to walk back with him and return to the hotel to wait for the others.  Sure enough, shortly into the hike, he began to get tired and fussy.  J.P., of course, continued his weeklong quest to keep up with the big boys and surged to the front of the group.  After hiking in the river for a bit, I suggested that Jude catch up to the group while I stayed with Joe and turned around.  She agreed and soon enough, it was just Joe and me.

Joe was hungry, so we stopped, and he ate half a chocolate Cliff bar.  He was ready to turn back.

As we ate and rested, I asked him why he wanted to go back to the hotel.  He wanted to go swimming in the pool.  After I told him we wouldn't be swimming until late in the afternoon and reminded him this was his one chance to hike in the Virgin River, he changed his mind, much to my delight.  He wanted to keep hiking.

Suddenly and surprisingly, Joe was transformed into a hiking superstar.  No complaining or whine.  None.  "Let's keep going, Daddy," he said, over and over again.  I couldn't believe it.  I told him he was half man, half mountain goat.  And he was.

We made out way up the Virgin River, holding hands whenever we hiked in the river or over uneven terrain beside the river.  We meandered, taking out time and stopping often to rest or talk.  Nowhere in particular to be and no time limit in mind.  Just a father and his youngest son, hiking together in one of earth's beautiful, hidden spots.  It struck me that I should cherish that moment because, realistically, it was unlikely he and I would be hiking the Narrow together again, just the two of us.



Up head, we saw Jude walking toward us alone.  The rest of the group was ahead and we learned from her we were close to the fork of the Virgin River.  That's a good turning around point, I thought, so the three of us hiked on to the fork.  Joe, of course, wanted to continue hiking, but Jude and I agreed it was best to turn around.  We took the right fork - opposite the fork the group had taken to Wall Street - and walked to a small waterfall - where we joined a couple gazing at it in wonder.  They took turns climbing the waterfall in the narrow, narrow canyon.



Much to Joe's delight, I climbed the waterfall, too.  He wanted me to do a cannonball when I climbed/jumped back down, which I most certainly was not going to do.  With my luck, I would have landed on a submerged rock.  Either way, it was a good way to end that part of our hike.

As the three of us slowly and deliberately make our way down the Virgin River, I began to worry about J.P.  He got overheated on the way back from Bryce Canyon the day before.  I knew his hike back down the Virgin River with the group would be hotter and tougher.  I mentioned it to Jude and I could see she was worried, too.  Again, if there's a problem in the Narrows or someone gets sick or hurt, there's no help nearby.  The only option is to carry the person out or send someone ahead to find a shuttle and call for a park ranger.

Finally, Jude, Joe and I reached the trailhead and began the long, hot mile hike back to the shuttle stop, the sun beating down on us from overhead.  Jude and were quiet, alone with our thoughts about J.P. and regretting that one of us hadn't stayed with him.  When we got to the shuttle stop, Jude wanted to stay and wait for J.P.  I quickly vetoed that idea, because I knew he was two or three hours away from returning and it made no sense for the three of us to wait of him in the heat with no lunch. She begrudgingly agreed and we rode the shuttle down to the Visitor Center and drove back to the hotel.  Joe was upset because he though we were leaving J.P.

Jude made Joe lunch and I made myself lunch.  Then, Joe and Jude laid down for a nap.  I read and waited.  And waited.  And waited, for J.P.  I said a silent prayer as I it got later and later.  2 p.m., 3 p.m., then 4 p.m.  No word from anyone.  Jude and Joe got up and still, we waited.  The longer we waited, the more worried we became.  I suggested to Jude that there's no one else we'd rather have looking out of our son, keeping him safe, than her friends from college.

I heard nice, looked up, and J.P walked in the back door.  Tired, but safe.  And happy.  He looked up at us, a little puzzled that we were so relieved to see him.  He was hungry, really hungry, so like the pre-teenager he is, sat down and ate leftover cheese pizza and Ruffles potato chips.

Both boys home, safe and sound, I drove up to Zion Adventure Company and returned our river hiking gear.  While I was there, I asked where I could go to have a beer and unwind for 30 quiet minutes.  They sent me to the Bit & Spur, a small bar/restaurant just up the road.  It was the perfect spot for me to have a beer or two - Provogirl Pilsner (quite tasty) - and reflect, which is what I did.

I was so proud of both of my boys for what they accomplished in the Narrows.  Joe, for hiking with me all the way to the fork in the Virgin River, with enthusiasm and without a single complaint after we let the group go on ahead of us.  I didn't see anyone Joe's age - 6 - who hiked as far as he did.  JP, for completing his hike past Wall Street, accompanying the rest of the group and boys in the group that were all older than him - 15, 14, 14 and 12.  And both hikes were no joke, I can assure you.



All of those thoughts were in my head, as I sipped my beer in the Bit & Spur.  I didn't want to leave the bar, in a way, because the moment was idyllic.  My boys are growing up and I'm growing older.  Those moments are so fleeting.  Here and then gone forever, like a late summer evening.

"No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man."

-Heraclitus

One of my favorite quotes of all time and certainly appropriate for how I felt yesterday, sitting at the Bit & Spur, sipping my beer and feeling blessed and nostalgic at the same time.  

     


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