I leave you with this video blog as I depart for my NOLS course in the remote Brooks Range and Arctic tundra of Alaska.
Fitness
This Hike Takes Your Breath Away
It was very early morning on July 29, when reasonable people were still in their beds sleeping.
Four of my closest girlfriends met my husband and I at our house at 3:09, and by 3:17, we departed for the trailhead at Dickinson Park, about an hour-and-a-half drive. Despite the early hour, as we left Lander, it was 67 degrees outside. A couple miles outside of town, a star shot across the black sky that was heavily dotted with dazzling, sparkling stars. As we approached the trailhead, we watched a small herd of elk cross in a meadow in front of us.
By all indications, the day would be a stellar one.
This “epic adventure” is a trip I planned back in late spring. As readers of this blog know, one of my passions is long distance day hiking, particularly in my backyard, Wyoming’s southern Wind River Range. I love to hike far in a single day, in a landscape whose natural beauty takes my breath away, with people who are positive, interesting, fit, funny, and who are a pleasure to be around. If all goes well, my heart, mind, soul and health benefit.
I feel so strongly about the benefits of this type of epic pursuit that this hike would serve as sort of a “test drive” for a product I plan to offer in my new leadership/coaching business.
There were six in our group, including Kathy Swanson, Kathy Browning, Leann Sebade and Holly Copeland, and my better half and frequent hiking companion, my husband, Jerry. (Jerry and I had this hike on our life list, but he also generously offered to help me by taking additional photos to capture the magnificence of the day.)
We would start at Dickinson Park, hike the Bears Ears Trail to its end, connect to and hike the Lizard Head Trail to the North Fork Trail, and then head back toward Dickinson Park. The start and finish are separated by two miles of dirt road. If there’s one thing we like to think we are, it’s smart, so we took two cars and dropped one at the end before we started hiking.
The hike, according to the maps we had on hand, indicated the adventure would be about 26.2 miles — a marathon hike. (Turns out the maps were wrong; our trusty GPS, along with the signage on the trails, would indicate that in fact our loop hike measured 29.3 miles.)
The hike would start at 9,400 feet elevation and climb to just under 12,000 feet in places. For much of the hike, we would be between 11,000′ and 11,700′. All told, there was 5,700′ of elevation gain.
In other words, this adventure would be more than a long walk; it would involve some lung-busting and muscle-tearing. The payoff, of course, would be panoramic mountain views that would continue to unfold in front of us for long periods of time, as well as meaningful conversation and a fun time with kindred spirits.
The first three miles are a climb through gradual, but seemingly endless switchbacks through lodgepole forest. Once out of the trees, we were at 11,000′ and hiking in alpine tundra by sunrise. Like I said, by all (continuing) indications, it would be a stellar day.
The Bears Ears Trail gets its name for a rock tower formation that looks exactly like a (teddy) bear’s head, complete with its two ears on top. You can see the Bears Ears from various spots in the front/low country we frequent, so it’s a treat to walk right under it and to see it up close.
Early Native Americans, particularly the Shoshone and Crow Indians, frequented this area to hunt for bighorn sheep, and to perform religious ceremonies.
At this point, you can see Funnel Lake, before continuing through a low saddle called Adams Pass before dropping to a bridged (marsh) crossing of Sand Creek.
After crossing Sand Creek, we continued to the right of Sand Creek and ascended a rocky trail. The granite is this area is 2.5 billion years old. It’s hard not to feel insignificant in the spectrum of time when hiking amongst such old rock.
At the seven-mile mark, we were handed our first real prize – a jaw-dropping, awe-inspiring, panoramic view of the Wind River Range. Mount Washakie and Washakie Pass, Bernard Peak, Lock Leven Lake, Chess Ridge, Mount Hooker (with its perpendicular 1,600-foot-tall face), Grave Lake, Mount Bonneville, Musembeah Peak, and more. Imagine a view of towering, silver granite, snow-covered mountain peaks with a scattering of glaciers and lakes and you get the picture.
This is a great turn-around spot for reasonable-but-fit day hikers. Even better, though, would be to do a quick scramble to the top of Mt. Chauvenet, which stands 12,250 feet tall and is right there behind you as you’re taking in these magnificent views of the Wind River Range. Jerry and I climbed it about 12 years ago and I can’t recommend it enough.
We stayed on the Bears Ears Trail and continued up, until the trail crested and we opted to enjoy a short break while taking in the awesome views.
Up next for us was connecting to the Lizard Head Trail. The Lizard Head Trail would connect us to the North Fork Trail. Some of us had previously hiked the Bears Ears Trail, as well as the North Fork Trail, but always on separate occasions and had never linked the two trails. Jerry and I had long wanted to see what Lizard Head Trail was like. In looking at a map, and having climbed the massive Lizard Head Peak in 1999, we knew it could only be awesome.
And boy, were we right about that.
After connecting to the Lizard Head Trail and ascending a snow field, or two, we reached sweeping views of additional sections of the Wind River Range. In fact, for the next several (seven?) miles we hiked on alpine tundra that was littered with an abundance of tiny, fragile wildflowers of all colors and kinds, and lichen-covered rocks while being overshadowed by one granite peak after another to our right.
We’re talking jaw-dropping scenery. The kinds of views that can move you to tears, and, especially given the altitude, take your breath away and leave you speechless. For moments at a time.
I’m usually a swift hiker and we had a timeline to keep for this long hike. But, during this stretch, I “strolled” quite a bit. It was impossible not to. The views were just so amazing and the hiking too enjoyable. The air is thinner on this trail, though. Some of us had faint headaches and I reminded the group — and myself — to take deep breaths to counter the effects of the thin, oxygen-deprived, high altitude air. I, as well as Jerry, and the others, snapped tons of photos along this section. (As you can see from the number included in this post!)
After about seven miles of hiking on the Lizard Head Trail, we were afforded views of the famous Cirque of the Towers. (Yeehaw!) The Cirque of the Towers are an amazing collection of 17 peaks that provides world-class climbing. We could also see Lonesome Lake, which is situated directly below the Cirque.
Lizard Head Peak stands 12,842′ tall and is the star of this section of the Lizard Head Trail. No wonder it is the trail’s namesake. 🙂 About one mile northeast of the Cirque of the Towers, Lizard Head is the area’s dominant peak. From our vantage we enjoyed a magnificent view of its east face, which towers 2,300 feet above Bear Lake.
Here, with Lizard Head, Bear Lake, the Cirque of the Towers, Lonesome Lake, Mitchell Peak, Lizard Head Meadows and The Monolith as visuals, we stopped for a short break. This now marks the best lunch spot I’ve ever experienced.
Because we were on a timeline, and by now, knowing that the hike would be a few miles longer than the original marathon distance we had anticipated, we started moving again, descending toward the North Fork of the Popo Agie River, where we would connect to the North Fork Trail.
Once we hit the North Fork Trail, we were back in the forest. The trail was more kind — both in terms of grade and terrain. The shade was also nice, given it was early afternoon and we were hiking at a reasonable elevation. Here, many of us (re)lathered ourselves with bug spray and some of us donned head nets. Darn it — the mosquitos were out in force. Fortunately we had all expected this.
Rivers in the Wind River Range were/are raging right now compared to normal, given the abundance of snow and moisture our mountains received this past winter and spring. We knew we had at least four river crossings to contend with but had been informed before our departure that they were all passable. Still, we were a little anxious in anticipation, as turning back was not something we wanted to consider.
It was a few miles of level, fast hiking before we reached the first crossing. The water was swift and hit most of us in the mid- to upper-thigh for part of it. But the water felt great and we all crossed successfully, although some of us did so with more mental ease than others. I’m not a huge fan of river crossings so was glad to have this first one behind us. Reportedly, it would be the worst of the crossings.
The next one, however, proved to be swifter than our first. We took our time, and again, we all crossed with no more than some anxiety.
Turns out there were three other crossings that required us to de-shoe, but they were easy and the water provided a welcome relief to our tired, dirty, “protesting” feet.
Except for the bugs and the water crossings, in my opinion, the North Fork Trail is a walk in the park. From Lizard Head Meadows to Dickinson Park the distance is 13 miles and the elevation change is a mere 1,000 feet.
That said, as is usual for these long hikes, the last two miles feels like four, if not more. With about 25 miles on our legs, we were pretty much cruising through the forest with little effort. At one point, I asked Jerry, the GPS-carrier, what our elevation was and he said, “8,600 feet.” What? I asked him again two more times and each time the answer was the same. This was a little demoralizing considering I/we knew the end was located at about 9,400 feet.
The character-building portion of the hike (if there was one?) for me, and I’m guessing for the others, was at about the 26-mile mark, where we walked on a dusty, hot trail through a recently-burned section of forest and then had to grunt up a hill for about 1,000 feet only to descend a couple hundred feet and go for what was a couple more miles (that seemed like five or six) to get to the end.
Once at the end, we had cold beers in a cooler (a surprise reward from Jerry), and Kettle Chips and Rainier cherries from Leann. All hit the spot!
But the biggest reward for me, and hopefully for my comrades, is that I had gained an epic experience, memories to last a lifetime, inspiration that will serve as fuel for me, stronger friendships, and a health benefit to boot.
A SHORT VIDEO:
Cyclone Pass “Prize” Makes Shoshone Lake Hike (Grunt) Worthwhile
Shoshone Lake is a big lake that is in my backyard. Tucked in the foothills of Wyoming’s southern Wind River Range, the lake is situated at about 10,000′, and in the Shoshone National Forest.
My husband, Jerry, a friend, Kathy Swanson, of Casper, WY, and I hiked to Shoshone Lake and beyond on July 8. The route we hiked follows some trail, but mostly two-track/ATV road. As a result, many hikers do not hike to Shoshone Lake. Pity!
I hike to Shoshone Lake 2-3 times a year if possible. In my humble opinion, it’s the hardest (best training) marathon hike near my town of Lander, WY, and it provides one of the best views of my backyard.
The “prize” — the reason we go to such great lengths on this hike — is Cyclone Pass. The top of Cyclone Pass provides one of, if not the, most glorious views of the southern Wind River Range. While one could do this as an out-and-back hike, or ride a jeep or an ATV to Cyclone Pass and Shoshone Lake, we typically choose to hike a point-to-point route.
Our hike started at Bruce’s Bridge, about nine miles southwest of Lander. From there, we hiked seven miles on the Middle Fork Trail, to a junction that took us uphill, on a grunt, for three miles, before joining the Shoshone Lake Trail at 10 miles. From there, we hiked briefly through the forest before it opened up into the vast — and lush — Shoshone Basin. After hiking through the basin, we arrived at Shoshone Lake, which marked a little over 13 miles.
From there, it’s a mostly-level trail alongside the lake’s shore for a little over two miles. Next up is Cyclone Pass. And there are no two ways about it. Ascending Cyclone Pass is a grunt. It’s pretty much straight up over all kinds of rock scatter, and on July 8, some running water. The ascent of Cyclone Pass is about 1.5 miles and 650 vertical feet. Because it comes at a point when you have about 15 miles of mostly uphill miles on your legs, it’s a real “character-builder.”
No matter. Going uphill is not an unreasonable cost, given the prize at the top. You can hopefully see in the photos here of Cyclone Pass and get the picture. 🙂
After an extended break at top of Cyclone while taking in the awesome views, we then started our descent toward Baldwin Creek.
Despite the fact it’s all downhill from Cyclone Pass, arguably the toughest part of the day is what’s next, a 2-mile section known as The Chute. This is basically a dried-up creek bed. Some areas are nothing but rock on rock. For our hike there was a actually a stream running down much of the middle of the The Chute. It’s hard on the legs. It is sustained and unrelenting downhill on nothing but rocks on rocks. Let’s just call it what it is: another character-builder.
Following The Chute, we hike by Suicide Point, a great feature that is aptly named. From there it’s just downhill, downhill and downhill, and more rocks and rocks and rocks. To be sure, the descent, even beyond The Chute, is a very rocky one.
My dad was to pick us up at the parking lot above the Shoshone Lake Switchbacks, off Baldwin Creek Road at 3 pm, but he was delayed in receiving our Spot Messenger text regarding our ETA, so we ended up descending a few of the switchbacks. (By then, in dire straits, I took a small bite of a snake on that portion. It’s my dad’s fault?) All told, we hiked about 25 miles, including 4,300′ of elevation gain.
It was an epic day. I would even go so far as to say it was stellar. It had all the important features: camaraderie, stunning views, character-building, and a reat health benefit to boot.
Here is a very short video from Cyclone Pass:
Why I Pursue “Epic” in My Life
One of my favorite words is EPIC. I probably drive people nuts because I say it (as well as stellar) so often. Even my new business (Epic Life) even has the word in it. I have a lot of epic in my life. This is by design.
By epic, I mean something beyond scale, bigger than anything you’ve done before. By epic, I mean so difficult it will require, at times, a heroic effort; so difficult its outcome is uncertain; so difficult it will require skills you don’t currently have; so difficult it cannot be done alone — it requires a team. For all of these reasons, epic means unforgettable. You will never forget the experience.
One of my foremost passions is long distance day hiking. I like to hike far and fast in a single day. Some of my recent epic adventures include a 45-mile Grand Canyon Rim to Rim to Rim, a 50-mile traverse (day hike) of Zion National Park, a 32-mile Traverse day hike of Wyoming’s southern Wind River Range, a 2-week NOLS backpacking expedition in Alaska’s vast and remote Brooks Range, and many others. I also skate skied 50 miles in a day last winter.
I should say that, being from Lander, WY, where there are many world-class athletes in various outdoor pursuits, at least in Lander I consider myself merely “normal.” But most people, regardless of location, have the same reaction when I tell them of my love of hiking 30-50 miles in a single day. They look at me like I’m whacked, with confusion.
I’m developing a leadership coaching business for women that, as part of a package, will provide epic adventure(s). Recently, when telling a colleague about my plans, she responded with, “What I don’t understand is why you do these things.” In not so many words, she was saying this will be important for my marketing. (Thank you Debbie Cohen).
So, I’ve been thinking about this question. Why do I do these epic adventures? Here is my list of reasons. Of course, it is epic. 🙂
• Health benefit. To embark on an epic adventure, I need to be in great shape. This fact keeps me training at a high level throughout the year so that I can consider any audacious adventure that presents itself to me or that I find intriguing. Being super fit also ensures I’ll be able to keep up with our three young sons and my ambitious husband. (I wasn’t always this fit. It takes determination and commitment. But my level of participation – in all aspects of my life – has increased and improved as a result of my commitment to good health. I highly recommend it. It also helps when it comes to recovery. My legs were tired, but not sore, after the recent Zion traverse.)
• It’s a lot of work. I love the process of working, and the harder, the better. There is something about my heart pumping and the feel of my muscles working, my mind alternating between wandering and focusing that happens on these epic outings that makes me feel very alive.
• Nature. My senses are most alive when I’m outdoors in a spectacular natural setting. I’m talking about natural beauty that can move me to tears just by looking at it and taking it all in. The fresh air on my skin, the scents of the landscape and the songs of birds and sounds of animals are all present. It’s a very real connection I experience with nature.
• Mind clearing. You know the saying – “wherever you go, there you are” (Jon Kabat-Zinn). I show up to the trail with all my “stuff.” There could be lots on my mind, not much, all good, all bad, nothing special, something that is really special – whatever. Me, and all that matters to me in my world, show up. As the adventure gets under way, the solitude I’m afforded (which is provided even when I’m hiking with others) enables thoughts to get organized (“mapped”) in my mind. Mostly this is unconscious for me. Thoughts that are most pressing will rise to the top.
I can consciously choose to focus on something and try to keep my mind on that topic, or I can let my mind wander and let thoughts lead and lay where they may. The former takes effort as my mind wants to wander when I’m in open space, moving in a place surrounded by huge vistas. By the time I’ve completed the hike, I’m much more clear on many things. I have solved problems, prioritized, come up with brainstorms for solutions, written blog posts, re-played conversations that are important, made discoveries, etc.
• Camaraderie: It is amazing to share an epic adventure with other like-minded people. All of the epic adventures I’ve been on with others have provided a social aspect, as well as opportunities for solitude. The conversations that occur and that are shared along the trail add to the experience and the memories.
• Humility. In the natural places I’ve been and am drawn to, the views are remote and natural and rugged and enormous in scale. I feel insignificant in size, both with respect to the country that surrounds me, but also to the task at hand. This experience humbles me. I love that it does.
• Pilgrimage. The longer and harder (the more epic) the adventure, the more spiritual it is for me. Because the adventure is hard work and is very much a struggle, I become vulnerable. I find myself in an awe-inspiring place, with my senses completely awake, yet weak due to the effort. I always discover new truths about myself during this struggle.
• Mental toughness. Or, shall we say, an epic adventure provides an opportunity to practice “mind over matter.” During these epic hikes, there is always a crux, sometimes more than one, when things are at their most difficult, and I find that I am at choice. I want to quit. I have completely blister-damaged feet, or my legs hurt, or I’m out of energy, or it’s too arduous of a task to continue or finish, it’s closer to the start than the finish, or all of the above.
During these hardest times of the hike, the negotiations in my mind start. (And I’m a pretty effective negotiator!) I start arguing and settling and negotiating and reasoning with myself in my head. Examples: Well, if I don’t do the full 50 miles, that’s okay – 42 miles with this much elevation gain and loss is pretty awesome. Or: Well it was a long winter and I’ve only logged one 20-mile hike so far, so it would still be awesome if I were to stop after 36. Or: These conditions suck. There is no way anyone would finish this on a day like this, in these conditions.)
This crux – this place I describe above – is a very powerful place to be. It’s when I’m reminded of the many survival stories I’ve read and been in awe about, including the likes of Ernest Shackleton’s Endurance or Unbroken, the survival story about Louie Zamperini. I think of these stories, and others, and talk about getting perspective real quickly! Suddenly my issues are tiny in size. And, it’s during this stage that I’m reminded that, in fact, we are at choice. Come to think of it, my being there was a choice. (Read VIKTOR FRANKL’S MAN’S SEARCH FOR MEANING, which in so many words states that, Forces beyond your control can take away everything you possess except one thing, your freedom to choose how you will respond to the situation. You cannot control what happens to you in life, but you can always control what you feel and do about what happens to you.)
During the crux (meltdown) of an epic adventure, the question I often ask myself is, How do I want this story to end? What is the story I want to tell about this? Of course as a writer, this context makes sense. The point is I get to decide, which is not always easy, especially since it would be easier to quit. On the Grand Canyon Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim, I had major blisters on both feet by mile nine, and before the half-way point, both of my feet were totally blister-damaged. Every step (millions?) felt as if I were standing on needles or burning coals. However, for me, it’s often harder to quit and have the ending I don’t want, than it is to suck it up and do the rest of the work. (Please take note that blisters do not cause permanent damage so I didn’t view my continuing as reckless, just very difficult and painful.)
The power is in the fact that this is a choice that I get to make and that I live with that choice. I like the power of this and it serves as a metaphor for all the choices we get to make in our lives. (By the way, I have not always chose to end stories with “happy, successful endings.” I quit the Tahoe 50-mile run at mile 42 due to heat ailments, and I quit the Run to the Sun 37-mile event after 27 miles, because, well, I just didn’t want to finish. I learned from these non-finishes despite the fact they were not the endings I was going for.)
In short, these epic hikes provide me with practice for life’s challenges and hardships.
• Accomplishment. When I finish something that’s, by my standards, epic, I am a better leader as a result. This translates also into increased confidence that helps in all aspects of my life.
• Gratitude. Often, near the end of an epic adventure, some tears are shed. Most of them come as a result of gratitude that overwhelms me. Physical hardship (which causes vulnerability), natural beauty, and solitude combine to fill me with gratitude, especially for my family and friends, my abilities, the opportunity to have this experience, the scenery that surrounds me — not to mention that near the end, success is almost for certain! The final stage of the epic adventure becomes very personal, and devotional, for me.
• Becoming More, and Better.
Finally, the biggest reason I choose to pursue epic is because doing so causes me to become more, and better, than I was before.
So, there you have it. These are the reasons that I choose to do these epic adventures. There is no question I am better for them. I am healthier, have improved leadership, confidence and participation in my own life, have collected some interesting stories to share, have seen sights so stunning that they continue to inspire me, have formed lasting friendships as a result of these adventures, and feel more alive than ever. I have experienced change, and have grown. I am energized and fulfilled. It is my aim to facilitate the same epic experiences for my clients. (BTW, epic means different things for different people. An epic adventure for a client might be an eight-mile hike at altitude. Or more. Or less.)
I would love to hear your thoughts on epic adventures. Have you embarked on one? And, how did it affect and/or change you?
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Epic Life, provides coaching that dares its clients to live as if they’re dying — as if every day counts. Epic Life dares you to go off-trail and uphill, to choose your own way even if it’s the hard way — especially if it’s the hard way. It’s about going farther than you’ve ever gone before. Epic Life is about changing your world. It’s about changing the world. Epic Life is about creating a life that takes your breath away — a life that is epic. Email me if you’re interested in learning more.
A Traverse (Day Hike) of Zion National Park
I had been to Zion National Park, in southwestern Utah, on two previous occasions — enough to establish itself as one of my favorite national parks. Its beauty is stunning.
Our approximately 50-mile traverse hike was the idea of Mike Lanza. He recently turned 50, and had conjured up this trek that would commemorate a mile for every one of his years. My friend, Jon Dorn, who took me on the epic Grand Canyon Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim around this time last year, was kind enough to invite me along.
On Friday, I drove 10 hours from my hometown of Lander, WY, to a hotel near Hurricane, UT, located about 40 minutes from our adventure’s start. That evening I had dinner with four of the guys who would be on the trek. (I would be the only woman, hiking with seven men.) After dinner, I set my alarm to wake up — a mere three hours later. Turns out I got a full two hours of shut-eye. Wow.
The cast of characters on the hike hailed from six states, including California, Idaho, Colorado, Montana, Massachusetts and Wyoming. Included: Mike Lanza, creator of TheBigOutside.com, author of an upcoming book about climate warming in our national parks, and northwest editor for Backpacker magazine; Jon Dorn, adventure athlete and editor-in-chief of Backpacker; Mark Fenton, a race walker and bike- and pedestrian-friendly community-building consultant; Carl Schueler, an Olympic race walker who works in land use planning; Todd Arndt, a family physician and competitive runner; David Ports, multi-sport adventurer and the USA YMCA Director; Mark Godley, an avid adventurer and a sales representative for a software startup; and finally, me, a consultant, writer and aspiring life and leadership coach.
In other words, the event would be well documented and widely published, fast-moving, pedestrian-friendly, a good use of the land, well-planned, provided with medical care (medicated, even, perhaps?) and effectively sold. And, if I could keep up, perhaps I could provide some championing and cheering.
By the way, in addition to all the logistics such an epic trek requires, as a group we also agreed not to eat each other no matter the circumstances. No cannibalism. Still, as the only girl on this trip, and knowing how desperate people doing these long adventures can become, I planned to make myself look as unsavory as possible.
We started from Lees Pass, in the Kolob Canyons region, on the LaVerkin Creek Trail. It was 52 degrees at the 3:15 a.m. start and we hiked under a dark, clear sky. For the first few miles, I couldn’t see anything other than the light from my headlamp that illuminated the path in front of me, and the streaming line of little lights from the others.
Once my eyes adjusted, I could sense the huge canyon walls we were walking under and through and I could see the outline of their ridges. They were impressive in size and made me feel like an ant. And we were an awful lot like ants — carrying our loads and moving quite briskly under the enormous canyon walls in a single-file line — with great purpose.
We covered the first six miles quickly and with ease.
After about seven miles we could hear roaring water. Mike commented, “Wow. LaVerkin is running strong.” I started to get nervous as we hiked and the creek’s roar became louder, and closer. I started negotiating in my head the other things he said instead of that the creek was running strong. But I couldn’t come up with any other logical words that rhymed so I remained wound up.
Sure enough the creek was running strong. I’ll say! The creek isn’t wide, but looked deep and swift. I was scared. As we all looked for a good place to cross, Mark (Fenton) decided to give it the first shot. I watched as he got half way across, and was under water to his waist and stopped just short of the other side. I’m not going to lie. For a moment there, I thought he might go down creek. He is a strong guy, and yet was fighting the current pretty good. Finally he stepped up to the other side’s bank, soaked, but safe.
I was scared. I have crossed many rivers, many much wider than this creek. But I had no experience crossing a creek or river as deep and swift as this.
Todd found a little wider, less deep channel and the rest of us opted to take his route. I confided in Jon and David, “I’m just letting you guys know that I’m out of my comfort zone. I’m scared. I don’t have experience crossing deep creeks or rivers.”
Gentlemen that they are, Jon and David offered to go in front of, and behind, me. They instructed me to plant my poles and focus on getting good footing. I found that it also helped for me to look across to the other side rather than down at the swift current. Crossing in between these two strong guys made it easier and before I knew it, I was standing on the other side, wet to the tops of my thighs, but safe all the same. It was exhilarating, not to mention, cold and invigorating.
Next up was the Hop Valley Trail. We hit the valley right at sunrise and the sights were amazing. We hiked on a sandy, wet trail amidst breathtaking beauty of towering red walls to our left and right. This stretch of the trail was challenging in that we had to cross a stream that was about ankle deep with no rocks to hop on, about 10 times. We crossed it so often that it didn’t make sense to de-shoe every time. As a result, my feet got quite wet and caked and filled with orange mud during this stretch.
Although this part of the hike was absolutely breathtaking in its beauty, I was concerned that my wet, muddy shoes might present problems for my blister-prone feet, and, by that point, we were not even 14 miles into the hike. This worry weighed on me because I fully intended to make the complete traverse and was intent on preserving my feet for as long as possible. So in the big scheme of things, this wasn’t an ideal start. We also lost the trail a couple of times, which cost us a little additional time and energy. But I’m not complaining; the scenery was too outstanding and the company too awesome.
After about mile 14, we arrived at the Hop Valley trailhead. There, Amy and Lisa, wife of (speedy) hiker Mark Fenton, greeted us with homemade wheat/cinnamon waffles, coffee, yummy homemade trail mix and other gourmet treats. Their smiling faces and cheering lifted my spirits, which had sunk a little out of concern for my wet feet.
Soon we were off again. It was 9 a.m., and it was heating up. We took the Connector and Wildcat Canyon trails to eventually meet up with the West Rim Trail. The four-mile Connector trail is just that — a means to connect to other trails. As we started down the trail I realized how hot the sun felt and that it was only 9 a.m. Not a super performer in high heat, I felt a little more worry set in. Fortunately by 10 a.m., gray clouds filled the sky. I was more thrilled to have cloud cover than concerned about precipitation. This cover persisted and provided significant relief from heat for several hours.
It took quite a while to reach the West Rim Trail but we made up some time and had returned to a pretty swift hiking pace on the two trails that would get us there.
Soon after joining the Wildcat Canyon Trail, I parted company with Mike, Todd and David, who opted for a short side trip to Northgate Peaks. (Jon, Carl and Mark F were ahead on the same side trip) I opted to continue onward. My goal was to make the traverse, rather than hit a particular total distance in miles for the day and I remained focused on preserving my blister-prone feet for as long as possible, which for me, meant not adding any additional miles.
I hiked alone for just under six miles before reaching the West Rim Trail. I took my shoes off to soak my feet and cross Blue Creek. Because I was now ahead of the others, I took my time to sit on a rock and air-dry my feet, change socks again, and consume some high-energy calories, before continuing and shortly arriving to the West Rim Trail.
This was a big deal, getting to the West Rim Trail. I have heard many times from people, and in articles I’ve read, that Zion’s West Rim Trail is absolutely spectacular. In other words, I was about to enjoy some serious payoff for my efforts thus far. I couldn’t wait to see what all the fuss about West Rim was about.
I waited for a bit to see if any of the others would show up. About 10 minutes later I heard voices and greeted Mark, Carl and Jon. Together we found a shade tree, where they all removed shoes and took a short break. Because I had enjoyed the recent break at Blue Creek, and given my eagerness to see West Rim’s sights, I opted to continue. Jon said he’d wait up for David and Mike, and I was off.
The West Rim Trail is long. It is 14.5 miles from its start to the Grotto Picnic Area, in Zion Canyon, situated on the park’s main road. For the first six or seven miles the trail is unspectacular, offering a great view of Wildcat Canyon, but not much else. It follows a pretty even grade until dropping into Potato Hollow. It wasn’t long, and speedy hikers/race walkers Mark and Carl showed up. I enjoyed hiking with them for a couple of miles, during which Todd also caught up.
We relieved our feet with a quick break, and a water re-supply in the non-scenic, burned (read: un-shaded) Potato Hollow area.
Carl and Mark jetted ahead from there, and Todd and I hiked together along the West Rim of Zion. We were both complaining, if only slightly, about the lackluster views for what was reported to be a trail known for stunning vistas.
As if on demand, everything changed. In front of us for the next several minutes was an unfolding, labyrinth of canyons. We were completely wowed. We stopped several times to just look at the jaw-dropping views before us. As if the views weren’t quite enough, there was an assortment of brand new flowers in bloom along the Rim trail. Absolutely stellar views.
After following the West Rim, the trail descends into and in and out of the unique and massive rock formations, for which Zion is famous. The geology of Zion includes nine formations that, combined, represent 150 million years of mostly Mesozoic-aged sedimentation. Back then, warm, shallow seas, streams, ponds and lakes, vast deserts, and dry near-shore environments covered the area. Uplift associated with the creation of the Colorado Plateau lifted the region 10,000 feet starting 13 million years ago.
The North Fork of the Virgin River carved Zion Canyon, and during the later stages lava flows and cinder cones covered parts of the area. While hiking up, down and through these unique and massive cone-shaped formations, I couldn’t help but feel quite insignificant in the spectrum of time.
At around mile 35, Jon caught up with Todd and I, and we consumed with much enthusiasm some Twizzlers (red licorice goodness) that were in Jon’s pack.
Shortly after, about 12.5 miles into the 14.5-mile West Rim Trail, we reached the spur for the noteworthy Angels Landing trail. Because I had hiked Angels Landing on a previous trip, I opted to sit this side trip out, while Jon and Todd, and Mark and his wife and daughter hiked to Angel’s Landing.
After a good rest, I headed down the remaining two miles into Zion Canyon to the Grotto picnic area. There, Mark Godley greeted Todd, Jon and I with sandwiches and raisin and oatmeal cookies I had made. And let me tell you, this real food hit the spot.
Next up: a 2,500-foot climb up, and several more miles of hiking to meet up with the East Rim Trail, which would lead to the trek’s finish at the Park’s East Entrance. I think it was about 7:30 p.m. when we caught one of Zion’s free shuttle buses up the road to the Weeping Rock Trailhead. Remaining distance to the end of this walk in the park: 10.5 miles.
Once off the bus, Mark, Todd, Jon and I proceeded to climb several steep switchbacks before passing through the awesome and unique Echo canyon, and up, up, up before accessing the East Rim Trail. For a small bit, right before total darkness, we had a hard time remaining on the trail, which was marked by cairns on steep and uneven rock. We reached an elevation of about 6,500′.
By now, there was no more twilight so we had our headlamps on and despite the black sky, the almost-full moon lit up the ridgelines of what were very obviously massive walls and cliffs around us. I made a mental note to hike the East Rim Trail sometime in the daylight. I am pretty sure the sights are astounding.
At about six-and-a-half miles into our final stretch, we came across the stash of Gatorade that Mark G had earlier in the day cached for us. Grape Gatorade never tasted so good. With about four miles left, I told the others the news – that many of my previously-prospective blisters were now full-on open and/or torn actual problems, and that I was feeling the pain in my feet. I told them I was perfectly okay, but that they should go on ahead and that I was going to resort to listening to some music via my iPod to help me get the gumption necessary to finish this thing standing up.
I didn’t lie. My feet exploded with pain. Each step felt like I was walking on hot coals but with pins and needles also injected in between my toes, on my heels and on the balls of my feet. I’m not complaining; I’m used to blisters on my feet on these endurance hikes. And thankfully these didn’t pose problems until this point – four miles from the finish of a traverse hike across a national park. So, yes, I did choose to slow it down some, and to “dig deep” with the help of some inspirational music.
But, in the interest of full disclosure, it’s at this point of these hikes – the last few miles – that the experience becomes deeply spiritual for me. At this stage, it becomes for the first time clear that I will succeed in finishing. This makes me quite emotional. There are often tears. I shed them mostly in gratitude. I think of my husband, Jerry, and our three sons, and of their love and support. I think of my parents, and my sisters and brother and their families; of my extended family and the dear friendships and relationships that nourish and support me, and that make my life so rich. I think of the hard training I do so that I can participate in these unique endurance adventures when the opportunity comes along.
And, it is true, at this point, I’m physically exhausted, sleep deprived and due to the blisters on my feet, in serious pain. So, while I didn’t want to slow the boys down, and while I planned on being introverted as I listened to my iPod, I also wanted to be alone for the finish. The final stretch is quite personal for me.
The last four miles, which seemed more like ten miles, were surreal and beautiful. There was an almost-full moon that illuminated the sand and rocks that marked my trail, and made the slick rock to my left glow sharply white. Also worthy of noting is the fact that the final stretch drops some 2,000 feet through a Ponderosa forest. Once, a bat fluttered by my ear, and I could hear the sounds of night creatures stirring even over the soft playing of Beethoven and Enya in my ears. Stars were out as I marched, slow but deliberately, toward what would eventually be The End of this adventure.
With probably two miles remaining, I came to a water crossing. The guys were waiting there to see how I was doing and to let me know “there’s a huge gorge/waterfall to the right. Cross right near it.”
Wow. This sounded exciting. Sure enough, as I rock-hopped across, I looked to my right, down what was a rather significant gorge/waterfall. Suffice it to say you would not want to get disoriented or wobbly while catching a glimpse. (Turns out that this feature is Jolly Gulch.) And jolly, I was becoming, knowing I would soon be off my feet, and possibly even drinking a cold beer.
About an hour later, I was greeted by laughter and a bit of a tailgate party, complete with beers and bags of chips and, heck, even Twinkies, being offered by my fellow hikers, Mark, Jon and Todd. Yeehaw! While I skipped all the side trip hikes, I think with my gazillion, off-trail bathroom hikes, I may have closed in on 50 miles… 🙂 But if I didn’t, who cares?
After this traverse, I have a more intimate connection with Zion National Park. I will be inspired for weeks and months – forever – by the sights that I saw, the acquaintances I made with all the guys on our trip and our support crew, and as a result of having accomplished a physically demanding pursuit.
When I learned I’d be the only girl on the hike, I was a little worried. Mind you, it’s not that this is that unusual for me to be hiking with mostly boys. After all, I’m outnumbered in a similar way at home, where my husband and I live with our three sons and our male puppy.
I didn’t want to slow the group down, or be a liability to anyone. I was honored to be invited and to be permitted to tag along with these accomplished adventurers. And, I wanted to successfully complete the traverse.
The men were all gentlemen and I am better for making their acquaintances. They, and the conversations I shared with them, enriched my experience.
VIDEOS:
HOP VALLEY VIDEO:
WEST RIM TRAIL VIDEOS (6):
EAST RIM TRAIL VIDEO: