Anyone who knows me knows that I have a goal list that I regularly add to and then work hard to check things off of. One of the things that has been on my goal list for a few years now is a hike in Zion National Park called Angel’s Landing. Why? Because I heard it was super dangerous, and so the Scrappy Doo in me immediately held up a finger and said, “I’ll take two!” So onto my list it went. Recently, I had the opportunity to check Angel’s Landing off my goal list, and it turned out to be much more than I’d expected.
The day started with my 4:15 a.m. alarm. By 5:00 a.m., we were on the road to Zion National Park where we would meet up with some other friends. At 7:00 a.m., we were on a private shuttle into the park and, by 7:20 a.m., the Scrappy Doo in me had bounced out of the van with three liters of water strapped to my back and shouted, “Let’s go!”
Starting in the valley surrounded by red, orange, gray, and white mountains that stood like sentinels, we began the hike with only one person in the group ahead of me. Scrappy likes to be in the front. The first quarter mile had very little incline as it wound next to a green stream that ran through the park’s valley. That’s “green” in a good way. As I looked up at the mountain in front of me, I thought to myself, “That doesn’t look so bad. It’s not even the largest mountain here.” In fact, it looked like nothing more than a medium-sized mountain. Easy-peasey, right?
Once the incline started, it really started. We were to cover 1,500 feet elevation gain in just 2.5 miles. The paved trail consisted of a series of switchbacks up the side of a steep mountain that gave beautiful views of the valley at every turn. It was a good cardio workout, and people were stopped along the way taking breaks, but Scrappy powered through with one of the guys in our group.
At the end of the switchbacks, we reached a nice, porta-pottied area where people were spread out eating snacks or resting. The guy who had been with me had been fast enough that I could no longer see him, so I was alone. Scrappy also doesn’t wait for the rest of the group.
Ahead, I saw the trail with chains hung along it for people to hang on to. Just before the chained portion, there was a large sign with a photo of the mountain on it. An older couple stood reading the sign. Scrappy never reads signs, so I just took a phone photo of it to read later and moved on to the chained portion.
Pulling the sleeves of my jacket down and over my hands to protect them from Covid germs on the chain, I grabbed onto the thick chain and started to inch along an angled cliff that fell nearly 2,000 feet down below me. My sleeves made my grip slippery, but my fear of Covid germs was greater, so I continued to inch along as the older couple started the path behind me.
“The sign said 13 people have fallen and died since 2004,” I heard the man say. *Blink, blink* My eyes widened, and I felt myself begin to breathe heavily as I moved my cuffs back to my wrists, gripping the germ-infested chain with my pure, clean hands. Inside, I said a little prayer, asking that I not become Angel #14 on this landing.
As soon as I finished the first chained section, I had to climb up on red rocks with no chain and a drop-off to my right. Why, oh why did they get stingy with the chains on this section, and who the bleep even got the idea to climb up here the first time with no chains?
Eventually, I crawled over the rocks and up, up, up before the trail crossed over to the other side of the narrow ridge. Ahead of me, the chains reappeared along the trail, and I moved quickly to them and grabbed on with white knuckles as I made the mistake of glancing at the river below me. I felt dizzy, my heart was racing, and I was now huffing and puffing not from physical exertion but from stress. A lot of stress.
As people came down the trail, we had to find ways to get around each other with a cliff up on my right and a cliff down on my left and only one chain, and Lord knows I wasn’t going to be the one to let go of that chain. More stress.
As I reached the end of that section, I asked someone if we were done, and the woman said, “No. There are two more peaks ahead.” Two more peaks? It didn’t look like that from below. Crap. As I grabbed onto more chains and powered ahead, dizziness increasing as I tried not to look anywhere but the space directly in front of me, it occurred to me that Scrappy was the one always getting into trouble and needing someone to rescue him from the bad guys. I wondered if they had helicopters to airlift me down because, not being able to move my eyes from the trail directly in front of me, I had no idea how I was going to get down.
I think the next section, the spine of the mountain, was the worst because it was kinda straight up, and, try as I might to only look at the area in front of me, the few-feet-wide trail dropped off on both sides of me…a lot. I couldn’t help but look. The word that best describes this portion of the trail would be TERRIFYING. Turning back wasn’t an option because I was even more terrified of going back down. I’d worry about that later.
Having climbed Half Dome and Mt. Whitney, I was comfortable with heights and a good workout on a wide, reasonably safe and secure trail. Yes, the cables on Half Dome were also terrifying, but the distance on the cables was much shorter. These chains seemed to go on and on, and I found myself wondering where the bleep the top was and how so many people did the hike with only 13 having fallen to their death since 2004. I wondered if anyone would fall today. I wondered if it would be me.
As I finished climbing the spine of the narrow ridge that seemed only a few feet wide, I found a spot to move over and let others pass while I hugged a tree and clicked a few photos with my camera. Glancing around, I wondered where the helicopter would land when it came to pick me up and then wondered if I even had cell reception up here. Looking behind me, I saw no sign of my group before I pushed the camera strap behind my shoulder and soldiered on up the final peak.
The final stretch was, again, pretty much straight up, and I wondered how much higher this thing could go as I huffed and puffed from stress and fought the dizziness that tried to overtake me. Maybe the park had exhausted their chain budget because they were getting a little skimpy on the chains. The gal behind me noticed the same thing and commented.
“I just wonder how sturdy these things are,” I said, giving each chain a little rattle to test it before pulling my weight up on it. What if the poles holding the chains came out? How deep could they have really drilled those holes in the rock while balancing on this narrow path on top of the world? And what kind of person would take that job? I’d take working in a nice, safe, grocery store checkout line any day.
“Don’t say that!” the gal behind me reprimanded in a tone that snapped me out of my rock-drilling daydream.
Hey, if I’m terrified, I want someone to be terrified with me. I was not about to man-up and keep my sentiments to myself.
At long last, my hands reached over the sandstone at the top, and I pushed myself up onto a summit that, thank goodness, was wider than the trail. Not much, but I didn’t feel the need to crawl after the first ten feet, so it was better.
In the small crowd of just over twenty people at the top, I saw my guy friend coming towards me, ready to head down. “Oh, please don’t go down without me!” I begged, unabashedly showing my terror. Every drop of Scrappy Doo in me had dissipated on the terrifying climb up. Plus, I quickly realized that, if a helicopter came to get me, there wasn’t room enough for it to land, so they would probably drop a ladder or basket for me to get into and then either pull me up or fly to the ground with me hanging. As my mind ran through alternative-route options, it didn’t take long for me to figure out that hanging from a ladder below a helicopter would be worse than attempting the climb down.
Fortunately, he waited for me to snap a few pics, put my camera into my backpack, pop a couple pieces of dried fruit into my mouth, and then begin my descent.
Whereas going up I had faced the mountain and not looked around, going down, it was so steep that I attempted some of it sliding on my butt while gripping the chain. The thing about sliding on your butt is that you get an extra-terrifying view of where you could end up if you slip or misstep. You can’t help but look down.
I caught myself wistfully glancing towards the area where the people were picnicking next to the sign that I didn’t bother to read, and I wished I could just snap my fingers and be there, safe and sound. Unfortunately, this was real life and not Bewitched, so I had to suck it up and do it.
Once I started the descent, I started to feel a little less dizzy. I’d only had time for some dried fruit and nuts for breakfast at five a.m., so maybe my blood sugar had been low. Maybe I had grown accustomed to terror. Maybe I was having an out-of-body experience and my spirit had already flown the coop.
Long story short, I eventually made it to the end of the chained sections of the trail without becoming Number 14. Only three of seven people in our group completed the hike.
My advice for others attempting this trail would be, if you’re afraid of heights, this isn’t the hike for you. If you have vertigo, don’t go on this hike. If you can’t handle high altitude, don’t do it. If you’d like to die later rather than sooner, don’t do it. If you like to challenge yourself, you’ll probably like this. If you’re looking for a good stock to buy, I’d recommend stock in a company that makes chains because we all know you can never have enough of those around!
Here’s to another goal checked off my list! Yes, I’m glad I did it, but there’s no way I’d do it again. Scrappy says, “On to the next goal!” I’ll attach some photos from the hike below and also on my Facebook author page.
May you all set goals and achieve everything you were put here to do.
Daterella's Adventures In Dating 
Yes, Kind of terrifying! Wow. Kudos to you for accomplishing this goal!
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