VERONICA KUFFEL

Departure Log 6:

Part-Time Sinner on Angel’s Landing – Zion National Park, UT

NOVEMBER 2, 2022

“Friend of the Devil” – Grateful Dead, 1970

This is around the time I hit the wall.

Travel fatigue is real. And I hate it. It’s probably the bane of my existence. There’s so much I wanted to do and explore on this trip, but I can’t lie: traveling cross-country, exploring cities and hiking really took a toll on me.

Top that with insecurity in what I ate and where I slept and you have an exhausting “wombo combo” (Dean, 2022).

I was feeling the toll of it after my birthday, but I didn’t let it stop me from climbing Angel’s Landing. I woke before sunrise, ate cereal in my silicon bowl and laced my heavy hiking boots. Mornings were cold and quiet in the desert, and lacked the moisture I was accustomed to.

Rather than morning dew, the scent of cool red dust followed my van out of the track. It took about an hour through the canyon to get back to Zion, but I eventually stopped in the visitor’s lot. I double-checked my bag for necessities: water, snacks, med pack and two of my journals. I couldn’t decide between them.

I didn’t take many notes during this time, partly because I thought I’d miss my time window to hike. The bus stopped at Grotto Trailhead, and I followed the few people making the ascent.

The beginning was a hike of normal difficulty and deceives you of its… extensive difficulty.

But there really is something about being fatigued and looking at beautiful things. Halfway through Angel’s Landing, I’m heaving air and spitting phlegm. I couldn’t think about much other than moving forward. But I saw the beauty in front of me and it carried each step.

When I took breaks I got to stare into this beautiful canyon and landscape. It was glorious. God-given. Beautiful.

I realized then why it was necessary to have permits; you have to protect beautiful things. The nature of them has become an overarching theme of the trip. True beauty is hard to reach for however many complicated reasons. But it’s worth it. It becomes part of the allure. The journey is part of that beauty.

We had a bit of a respite in Refrigerator Canyon. Yes, it did get colder. I pulled my sherpa over my head and tried to stay quiet. Everyone was silent here due to the endangered owl species that lives here. There were signs all over warning us of the effects of disruption.

I thought to myself, I wonder how many people would do with a little less noise and disruption, how their own lives would cease to be endangered.

Up next was Walter’s Wiggles. I won’t say much about it. It’s this lengthy switchback that zig zags up the face of the mountain. It’s where you pick up the most elevation. It’s where my heart almost blew out of my chest.

I took a lengthy break at the top. A bittersweet wrong turn lead me up Scout’s Trail instead of toward the Landing. I can’t complain though, the view of what I was about to climb was breathtaking. This was also my first encounter with the trail’s main inhabitance: crumb-hungry chipmunks. The darting furballs swirled around me on the path and into the rock cracks.

My final ascent was tough. My aforementioned description, a generalization. I could feel cuts and blisters forming on my heels, and I regretted using the deal I had on hiking-style work boots. The steel-toed, clunky leather hung heavy around my ankles as I climbed.

The Spine or ” Hogsback” is the final stretch to Angel’s Landing. It’s a glorified pile of rocks cemented into a narrow peak. All you have to hold onto is a thick chain wrapped around the trail. Sometimes, you had to improvise.

A series of dead trees were polished into handholds and foot rests. There was wind, but not enough to be worried. The sun was shining over the mountain and glistening in snow pockets.

A couple shots of courage later, I summited the peak. It was the hardest hike I’d ever done, and it was only the first half of it.

A group of hikers gathered to take pictures and eat snacks before going back down. Chipmunks pestered everyone for food. They were close enough to grab onto pant legs, and a few jumped on my backpack and even on my back.

But they were harmless. They begged for crumbs with their little black paws, reminding me of Louis and Quinn. They were cute, friendly and hungry. Beware the hiker who brings crackers on his hike.

The peak was also the first time I had service on my hike. I face-timed my mom and sent a few pictures out. My fellow climbers were kind and helpful. Although we were strangers, there was an odd sense of community and eagerness to help each other through. We took pictures for each other and talked through complications in the trail.

I met many people I didn’t expect. There was a couple with a baby tucked into a carrier on the man’s back. I took a break next to an older diabetic woman replenishing her blood sugar. I waited for a man who I believe had Parkinson’s cross a narrow path with his partner. I even saw a drag queen braving the peak.

I dropped off the main ascent and saw bags and poles scattered around the base of Hogsback. With all its difficulty, they weren’t worth carrying. After another hour and a half, I dragged my feet onto the bus. I watched the 1,500 feet of jagged rock fade behind me.

I drove my van to a local Italian restaurant and demolished some ravioli. It was the victory meal I deserved after such an intense battle.

I got back to my campsite early so I could rest. Most of the time was spent taking photos, playing Minecraft and reading books. I looked over my notes from the past few weeks and smiled. I was becoming a regular Kerouac. Or, so I hoped… with only the more ethical portions.

But while resting from my hike, I felt a lump swell in my stomach. It was brewing for the last few days inside me, and it was about to reveal itself the next day.