Day Eighteen: Zion National Park (Rest Day)

Our alarm was set for early in the morning so that we could fight for an available campsite. Inside Zion National Park, prospective campers stake out their spots by daybreak in order to beat the crowd, and any attempts to find a vacancy prove to be futile by about 7 a.m. Luckily, we spied a group packing up their car just across the road, and we hurried over to claim the land. After moving our tent over by literally picking it up and dragging it across the way, we were ready to head into town for breakfast. We hit up Deep Creek Coffee once again for Americanos, scones, and a view of the canyon from their upper deck, all the while overstaying our welcome while we spent three hours updating the website. By the time we were done, lunch was calling our names, so we grabbed sandwiches and three bean salads from the supermarket. Around noon, we rode back to camp to catch the shuttle up the canyon to begin our river hike, The Narrows.

We hopped on the shuttle at the Visitor Center, and it took us about 40 minutes through the canyon to the last stop, the Temple of Sinawava. We sat in the back, next to a couple from the Portland area, Kelsey and Sam. Alongside them was their service dog, an adorable 10 month-old black lab who laid quietly at their feet. They shared stories of their vacation and a good deal of information regarding the parks in Utah, which they seemed to know a hell of a lot more about than we did! We said goodbye without realizing that we’d see them a few more times throughout the next two days, and watched the puppy trot joyfully off the bus. When we arrived at our stop, we filled up our water bottles and tossed them into our rented backpack, then speed walked about a mile down a paved trail, anxious to reach the part of the hike where the river walk begins. We squeezed into our water socks and canyoneering shoes that allowed for minimal circulation, and clomped into the rushing river water for the next four hours.

Our hike through The Narrows was, to say the least, incredible. It is nearly impossible to describe how epic our surroundings were: mountainous canyon walls, clear rapids and still pools, and winding paths that become more and more narrow as time passed by. We spotted daredevils canyoneering through picturesque waterfalls, witnessed a poor German woman lose her engagement ring to the ironically named Virgin River, and even fell into the refreshing water a few times ourselves. Fortunately, the 90-degree weather was perfect for a dip in the river, and our walking sticks prevented us from any serious damage (which I’m sure we would have suffered without them… I’m a bit clumsy, at least). As the day was winding down, we realized that our gear was due to be returned at 7 p.m., and we needed to start heading back if we wanted to get down the canyon in time. We sped past hikers, and slipped and twisted ankles in our hurry, but finally caught the shuttle with enough time to make it Zion Adventure Company. Taking off our socks and shoes might have been the most difficult task of the day, and we just about ripped a few tendons before watching warm, mucky river water spill out of the rubbery socks. Our feet were withered and wrinkled, and it didn’t help that our lovely sock tan lines made them brighter than the white concrete beneath us. We chucked the gear into the “Gear Return” buckets and walked to back to our campsite with free feetsies.

On the walk back to camp, we remembered a conversation that we had with Kelsey and Sam that afternoon. When we told them about our experience the day before in which a squirrel ate through my bag, they joked back with us about the squirrels potentially bombarding our tent while we were gone. Apparently none of us had knocked on wood, because the moment we arrived at our tent, two fat squirrel-sized holes appeared through the mesh on the face of our tent. Chocolate smudges covered the tent floor from an unwrapped protein bar (which, might I add, was completely sealed), and we were hesitant to enter, fearing that the rabies-infested mongrel was lurking inside. We bitched and moaned about how we had no options left: if we left our bags outside, the squirrels would chew through the bags; if we left our bags in the tent, the squirrels would chew through the tent. Please, someone, let me know if you have a better solution—we’d love to hear it.

We drowned our sorrows in Apricot Ale at the Brew Pub just outside the park, while dunking house-made pretzel sticks in beer cheese sauce and following that with a BLT and an Apple Gorgonzola Salad. It worked pretty well, aside from the fact that Utah liquor laws require lower alcohol percentages for beer and wine. We trekked back to our duct-taped tent for the night, feeling much better than the hours before.