The drive from Arizona to Utah saw yet another drastic change of landscape. The desert shrubs of the canyon and horseshoe bend turned into baron white and red rocks scorched and made soft by a continuous, pounding wind. I've seen alot of photos of Utah and Zion on the internet, and not once did I consider how these otherworldly rocks were formed until now. Spirits sank as the heat continued to penetrate the van and Rob and I began to bicker. The journey from the Grand Canyon to horseshoe bend took much longer than either of us had anticipated and we were set to miss sunset at Zion.
When you drive through Springdale on the way to Zion, the whole place is set up like a kind of wild west Disney land with themed western bars and cart cabins you can camp in. Every where you look along the road features Zion wild west paraphernalia, gift shops, restaurants and motels. I loved it. With a stroke of luck, and no thanks to Google maps, Rob and I pulled up at the famous Canyon Junction bridge just before sunset in time to find a spot to take photos. Initially I thought I wanted to take photos under the bridge, which included a slightly technical hike down the rocks to
access the river, but the watchmen just weren't visible from that angle, so we ran back up the trail and set up on the bridge, ignoring the warning signs for stopping on the bridge. Each minute passed gave us different lighting, and after Rob and I were satisfied with our haul, we put the cameras away and sat on a nearby rock to finish the sunset together.
The next mission was a shower. It had been 3 days since my last real shower, and we were both beginning to feel it. We decided to attempt to take advantage of a nearby campgrounds facilities, despite not camping in there. Sadly, after scouring the whole park we learned that no such facilities existed. It was on the way out I noticed a couple sitting down by the river rob and I had just photographed, and I had a lightbulb moment: the river! The river was cold, fresh and fast running- and a welcomed gasp came from both of us as we plunged ourselves into the crisp water and began washing. Dusk disappeared and the stars shone whilst rob and I washed the days hardships away. It was a moment for the little things, and I loved in it, ever present and ever grateful.
After spending the night tucked into one of Zions mountains, Rob and I set off early (6am) back into the park for breakfast. After we fuelled ourselves for the day, we packed our bags and set off down the
Par'us trail en route to the temple of Sinawava. The Par'us trail was tranquil, scenic and low energy, which is exactly what we needed before our big hike through the narrows, which was yet to come. Rob and I marvelled at the sun coming up over the watchmen, the virgin river running through the park and the sound of cyclists up early before the heat set in. We left the Par'us at Canyon Junction bridge to make our way up the paved roads towards our shuttle bus.
The roads were shaded and cool, as I looked up I could see the sun beaming down on the mountains shaped like medieval red castles carved by wind and sun. The lush green alpines protruding from the mountainside gave life to a baron host. After an hour of hiking, we boarded our shuttle and made our way up the winding roads, padding stop after stop until we reached the Temple of Sinawava. The first hour of our hike was full of excitement and apprehension about what was to come. Rob and I laughed and joked our way down the trail until we eventually came parallel to the virgin river, where it was time to make our hike upstream. The river was fast flowing. Sediment and rock flowed freely through the current as Rob and I meandered up, wading through deeper parts, being careful of large rocks all the time marvelling at the river, the canyon we were making our way through, and the lush green alpines surrounding us. The river seemed endless and our hike, whilst thoroughly enjoyable felt never ending- until the rocks narrowed further, and the river forked. We had made it. A small, aqua pool deepened at the nook of the narrows as a waterfall cascaded into the waters. The sound of running water echo bounced through the chasm and the mountain rocks either side of us glowed orange from the light. Rob and I lingered to take it all in before making our hike back. The hike back to our van was no less marvellous, the canyon began to widen again and the evening sun beamed through, lighting up the green of the trees and shining into the pale blue river. Rob and I began to tire and the conversation wained. Each step harder than the last, and with weakening bodies came clumsy limbs. There were a few stubs, trips and slips, none of which deterred from the wonder of the hike. The end felt like a finish line to the longest marathon. We slumped into our seats on the shuttle eager to eat, wash, sleep.
The plan was, to have some flood, explore the local town and then come back for a wash, but with a staggering 41C thermometer reading, Rob and I opted for a spot at our now favourite river to sit, wash and recover. Much like the night before, the river ran cold and the welcomed wash off the days hike felt fresh and rejuvenating on our tired skin. We sat, we washed, played and stayed until the sun had set. At some point during our time at the river, a deer stood and drank deeply. An experience I'm unlikely to forget. We headed to town for an ice-cream and headed off for our camp spot after some well deserved dinner, neither of us woke once until morning.
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