I ended up crashing in Springdale last night. After finishing with my journal for the day, I ran into Mark and Emily, a pair of hikers, who had just finished an overnighter through Zion Narrows. It was part of a kick off “grand Western Four” they were taking that consisted of a month of backpacking trips throughout the Rockies and Southwest before they set of to Nepal for a year of trekking a volunteer work. I was almost tempted to join them.
We grabbed the last bus into town, talking easily about hiking and life while we searched in the moonlight for a random place to crash.
“This park would be nice, but they’re watering it . . .”
“How about this field . . . naw, it’s kind of lumpy.”
“It looks flat under this big oak.”
“I like it.”
“Me too,” I say, “But the creaking noise that branch makes in the wind is making me paranoid.”
“If it was going to fall, it would have fallen during today’s wind storm.”
“I know that but it doesn’t ease my irrational fears.” I moved out from under the troublesome tree to a spot just as cozy and had vivid, restful dreams all night long.
When we woke in the morning, we quickly packed and headed off to breakfast. I helped them finish theirs. (I was already started to get seriously hungry, not a good sign.) We exchanged goodbyes, as they headed off to Vegas. I figured one night there will probably be enough for them. It was for me.
I wandered over to the park entrance, where I was surprised to learn that they charged a $12 entrance fee. Figuring that I needed to buy one for tomorrow anyway, I ponied up the dough.
Tourist takes photo of fenced elk in town. In an attempt to find something more
unique that I could access today, I took the shuttle (marvelous system by the way without which traffic in the park would be a nightmare) to the end of the line and took the one-mile river walk to the Zion Narrows, eves dropping on the tourons along the way. I was particularly fascinated by their reactions to the plump, aggressive squirrels; Everything from “oh isn’t he cute to “look at him! He’s saying, ‘come over and take my picture.’” One woman screeches, “Oh my God what is it?” As she hides behind the rock, I guess she thought it might be some rabid night creature.
“It’s just a squirrel, ma’am.”
“Well it doesn’t LOOK like a squirrel.”
“It’s fat because the all the tourists feed it.”
“Hmph,” She doesn’t seem convinced but at she at least stops taking shelter from behind the rock. These are the people I missed at Emerald Pools yesterday.
After a while, the pavement ended and I wading through the river into the narrows. The canyon here is too narrow for the river and the trail, so further travel literally requires getting your feet wet, not to mention your knees, bellybutton and higher if you happen to be short. Naturally, the crowd has been decimated. There are still plenty of people, however, all types as well: fat, skinny, young, old, individuals, families, and large groups of friends. Demographically they are hard to tell apart from the crowds we left behind at the trails end, but they are different. Something else besides the trail has been left behind. I can’t put my finger on it. As I sit warming myself in the sun before I make my way, as slowly as possible, back to the busses I am searching for a way to describe what
makes the people here, the ones willing to wade through the cold, rocky river to get to the alcoves, waterfalls, and hanging gardens bathed in thin beams of light around the next bend. What makes them different? Words start to come, maybe some will help: friendly, calm, resourceful, energetic, ambitious, happy. I’m stuck on that last word. All of the people seem happy. Happy to be alive in this place. My on the pavement, I don’t know why, I still sensed stress, hurry, and an inordinate amount of unpleasantness. Eventually, I had to return to Springdale. I spent the rest of the afternoon running errands in Springdale while waiting for Sharon, Lindy and I-pod to show up.
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