I Don’t Do Roller Coasters

Call me a control freak, but the title is true. I don’t do roller coasters. I find it deeply unsettling to lock myself in a tiny cart and go hurtling around a track designed to make you nauseous. The older I get, the more I distrust even the Ferris Wheel at the local county fair. I’d rather keep my feet on the ground, even if I’m on the side of a cliff!

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Featured photos: https://photos.app.goo.gl/LqxMZn73kE2RxUog8

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October 13th, 2024 - Our Desert Extravaganza Day 3

The thing is, I’ve often been selective about the cliffs we choose to occupy. When we’re trip-planning, I’ll tell Tyler things like,

“Oh, I think that trail is outside our abilities. I don’t know if we should do that one.”

“Okay, portions of that trail look pretty sketchy, but the rest of the trail isn’t too bad. Let’s try it!”

“Yikes, that’s one heck of a cliff! Does it have handholds? We’ll be fine then. I’m okay so long as I have something to hold onto!”

“Remember that scary, high-adrenaline cliff trail we did at that one park? Let’s do another one!”

See the progression of confidence? That is entirely thanks to Tyler’s endless patience. As he plans our trips, he weighs my feedback against what he knows is actually true about me. I do enjoy an adrenaline rush, but I have to feel secure first. So long as I have my husband’s assurance that “the trail isn’t that bad. We can totally do it!”, I’ll be on board. (He also knows that I forget to read itineraries ahead of time. In Maine, we did the terrifying Precipice Trail together because I didn’t know anything about the trail until we got there.) Steadily, Tyler has pushed me out of my comfort zone. With a little coercion and a lot of patience, we’ve escalated our “scary hiking” abilities quite a lot over the past few years. Through it all, our end goal has been the Angel’s Landing Hike in Zion National Park. This has been on Tyler’s bucket list for a while, but I always said no. To me, the narrow, dangerous trail mirrored my perception of unsteady amusement park rides. I was uninterested in trusting my safety to a few chains on a slippery sandstone cliff. Tyler simply smiled and said “Okay.” 

Then we scrambled up cliff ladders at Acadia National Park. 

Then we tiptoed across a skinny catwalk at Picacho State Park. 

Then we peered into the bottomless Kings Canyon from a narrow granite walkway. 

Then we shimmied under boulders wedged in a slot canyon at Pinnacles National Park.

Then we (accidentally) hiked a steep cliffside trail at Guadalupe Mountains National Park.

Then we slipped and slid down the Gunnison Route at Black Canyon of the Gunnison. 

Gunnison was the deciding factor for me. With rock scrambles, chains, elevation, and danger, it was the hardest hike we had done to date. After we successfully conquered that tough nut, I looked at Tyler and nodded. My confidence had arrived. 

It was time for Angel’s Landing. 

Due to its popularity, the Angel’s Landing hike requires a lottery to experience it. Every month, hikers enter their names in hopes of being the next group of brave souls to navigate the death-defying, knife-edge ridge that decorates Zion National Park. Given our schedules, we had figured we wouldn’t get a chance to begin entering the lottery until 2025. However, there was a special night in September where that all changed. I had just gotten home from a grueling day at work. Overtime was hitting my workplace hard, and the prolonged shifts left my brain feeling like Jello on a stick. I dragged myself out of the car with an exhausted yawn. Tyler greeted me at the door, grinning. Strange, he seemed awfully happy to see me in such a bedraggled state. I yawned again.

“I have a surprise for you,” he beamed. 

He led me out to our wicker loveseat, where we’ve spent many summer evenings watching the traffic on our country road. Our landlord’s cows eyed us curiously from across the driveway. I dropped tiredly onto the bench. Tyler followed suit, sitting on the edge as if his legs were springs beneath him. What had gotten into him? He pulled out his phone.

”How would you like to go see the Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta next month?”

I gaped. He knew the answer already, of course. But why an unplanned trip? His next question explained it for me.

”And how would you like to hike Angel’s Landing the next day?”

What?? My brain’s gears were clicking into place. “No way, did we get the lottery? Wait, how did we get the lottery? I thought we weren’t going to try until next year!”

Tyler’s smile was glowing with excitement. “I’ve been secretly submitting our names for a few months now. I wanted to surprise you! I’ve got it all worked out. Look!”

He passed his phone over to me. He had the flights booked, a timeline written up, and the lottery acquired. Shocked, I started to grin too. We were going to Utah! Time flew by after that. Before we knew it, we were in Arizona, then New Mexico, then Utah. Our big day had finally come. It was time to test our luck at Angel’s Landing.

We circled the parking lot in Zion National Park for about 45 minutes. This is pretty typical for Zion, but it did nothing to ease the knot of anxiety forming in my stomach. Pushing through the crowds in the visitor center only made me more nervous. Would there be thick crowds on the cliff too? Pushing through hordes of people seemd less than appealing on such narrow ledges. 18 documented deaths have occurred at Angel’s Landing. My odds of becoming #19 weren’t negligible, and I knew it. When I looked at Tyler, though, he was as unflappable as ever. I trusted his judgement. We’d be alright.

I had to keep my eyes down when we started the hike. Every time I let my gaze drift up to the tall, angular ridge, I felt my resolve wither. Better to keep my eyes on my shoes, I decided. There’s nothing much discouraging about feet. I watched them follow the squiggly paved lines of Walter’s Wiggles, the infamous 21-turn switchbacks preceding Angel’s Landing. I had read horror stories about the Wiggles and their difficulty. To our surprise, we didn’t find them too bad. Sure, we huffed and puffed, but so was everyone else! Buoyed by our unexpected strength, we pushed on with determination until we made it to Scout’s Landing. Scout’s Landing, a wide flat spot atop the ridge, marks the start of the Angel’s Landing route. It also marks the spot where many people turn around. To be fair, the dropoff on either side of the red rock plateau was incredibly steep. To stand on such a height produced a dizzying sensation that sent many people into a fast retreat. It was a scary place! 

But oh, how beautiful it was too! We dangled our feet from the edge, watching the park shuttle bus navigate a winding road between our shoes. It wasn’t much bigger than my thumb. The Virgin River winked up at us from the valley floor, a cheeky hello from the erosive forces that shaped our ridge. I smiled back at it. It felt good to sit at Scout’s Landing. From here, Angel’s Landing was much shorter. I could see handholds dotting the sandstone walls along the narrow path. My anxiety was dwindling. As long as I had handholds, I would be fine!

Sure enough, I was fine! The ascent to the top of Angel’s Landing was a fun challenge when I examined it closer. We danced from rock to rock, clambering up their faces and squeezing in between. At the narrowest point of the ridge (a mere 24 inches at my estimation), I found myself smiling and thinking, “Good thing my grandma can’t see me right now!” 

To wrap up a long soliloquy, Angel’s Landing was amazing. It was actually not the scariest or most difficult hike we’ve ever experienced, despite my fears. It was the perfect combination of effort, adrenaline, and memory-making wonder. And, best of all, it taught me a valuable lesson about trust. We’ve been on many hikes together, and each one has began and ended with trusting our Protector. I’ve grown to love difficult hikes because I trust Tyler. I’ve learned to trust the experience and strength we’ve developed in our bodies over those difficult hikes. And I would be remiss if I didn’t mention my trust in my sturdy Merrells. Those dang shoes have survived a lot!

I still don’t want to ride a roller coaster.

But would I go hike a death-defying, precipitous, knife-edge ridge in the middle of Zion National Park? 

Heck yeah.