With only about a month to go before Molly and I would be in Zion, I went about securing a permit for the Narrows. You see, you aren't allowed to just go and hike the Narrows. You must have a permit to do it, or else you get the consolation prize of only hiking a small part of it as an out-and-back single day trip.
It only costs 5 bucks online to secure a permit for the Narrows and because it was so cheap I didn't pay much attention at the time to the details of the hike, other than its distance: 16 miles. That's pretty long, worthy of an overnight. Uh . . . no overnight permits remaining for the entire week we'd be there. Whoa, this is obviously a popular hike! Okay, we'll have to push it and do a long day. We can handle that kind of distance if it's worth it.
Only one permit left. A single day Narrows hike on Tuesday of the week we'd be there. Click. We're on.
Then, for a few weeks we researched lots of other potential hikes, and even secured a permit for another special place called "The Subway," the following day, but the Narrows was, in my mind, the main event. We essentially planned our entire vacation around that Tuesday.
Hmm . . 16 miles . . . that's a serious day trip. Maybe I should look into this hike.
I found out that the logistics are serious: 12 of the 16 miles are in a creekbed, not on a proper trail. The hike begins at Chamberlain's Ranch, private property outside the park, which is a 90 minute drive from the campground. The hike ends at a road in the park that can only be traveled by shuttle buses and those buses stop running at some point every day. Don't miss that last shuttle, or you'll be stuck on a road with no vehicles in the middle of nowhere.
This is the first vacation Molly and I would take without kids in over 7 years. I couldn't screw this up.
I found that many local outfitters offer van services. I booked two seats on a van that would drive us to Chamberlain's Ranch that Tuesday morning with a meeting time of 6:15 am. Loads of time to get that shuttle.
On Monday, the day before our scheduled trip down the Narrows, we got in line at the Zion Wilderness Desk (Zion has so many visitors seeking permits for various trips that there is a place just for permits at the Visitor's Center). That's when I realized we were doing something serious.
First, there is the flash flood danger. Zion Nation Park officials have produced a campaign of notices, images, and alarming videos such as this Flash Flood Video that is enough to make Noah scared. You're not swimming in a flash flood, and you're sure as hell not outrunning it. There are placards on the wall next to the Wilderness Desk that list the warnings of floods in the park for the current day, and the next. In our case, Tuesday was the next day and the placard told us that flash floods would be PROBABLE. To me, that sounds like it would be a relatively safe bet that there would be a flood, like more likely than not. Molly gazed at me with a look I know very well.Okay, maybe that forecast will change in the next 24 hours.
To obtain our permit (I had only reserved it online) I was surprised to have to cough up another $10 and sign a form that was more extensive than the one I signed when I purchased my home. Initials here, signature here, date there . . . over and over . . don't forget the backs of the pages. I have no idea what rights I waived, but it was made clear to me by the friendly park employee that Molly and I were pretty much screwed.
There's more. The park shuttle that drives to the end of the trail? The last one leaves at 8:30 pm. I asked, What if we get to the shuttle stop after hiking 16 miles all day long and it's 8:35? The flat response I was given was, "the road is about 7 miles long, sir." I'm not sure what was being suggested.
Searching for more information, we went to the outfitter who would be our van ride the next morning. How serious is this flash flood issue? What does PROBABLE mean? What would you do? More details . . . what should we wear? What footwear? What survival gear should we pack?We learned a lot. Namely, if you're hiking in the middle of a creek at the foot of 1000 foot vertical rock only a few feet apart in the desert, flooding is most definitely a thing. It's so much a thing that you should be scared of it. Really scared. So sufficiently scared that you're constantly watching for signs of flash floods: clouds, rain, near or distant thunder, floating debris, cloudy water, or rising water. Seems simple enough.
Molly and I had a meeting. Considering the PROBABLE level of flash flood likelihood, we'd remain "on the fence" until the very last minute, which would be the moment when the van pulls up to Chamberlain's Ranch. And, if we decide to pull the trigger, then we move FAST and steady. We packed small, easy to eat meals for our day as well as some water, a filter, and dry bags full of warm, dry clothes in case we got stuck after dark. We did not pack anything unnecessary that would slow us down: camera, binoculars, extra shoes, shovels.
We began to see a lot of people outfitted for the Narrows. They were totally obvious in their one-size-fits-most dry pants, goofy looking canyoneering boots, and prefab walking stick embossed with the logo of one of the local outfitters. Molly and I had boots and we packed dry pants from home but we didn't have sticks. So, we walked down to the river and found some driftwood. All set.
At 6:15 am on that Tuesday, we met Devon, our van driver. The van was a monster: a 15-passenger beast lifted onto oversized, knobby wheels and a custom cow-catcher front bumper. A-team memories all of a sudden overcame me and I might have done a Mr. T impersonation but it had rained overnight, so I was way too serious with anxiety. Devon, what's the forecast? "Hmmm . . . it's not a good forecast but it's not a really bad one, either." Devon, if we ride in this van with you all the way to Chamberlain's Ranch, can we still chicken out and come back? "Sure, but you're not getting a refund." Okay, our fence ride commenced.
In the van we met Ben. Ben was a recent college graduate who took the edge off by telling us his amusing tale of inexperience and poor decisions with great enthusiasm. He'd already hiked the Narrows over the past two days and had left his car at the trailhead (which he pointed out was foolish since he had to now take the shuttle in addition to the long drive on dirt roads he'd done two day prior in a rented Honda Civic). He had left his wallet in that car and his girlfriend was back at the campground with no food or money, waiting for him to return with the car and his wallet. They had a 3 pm flight to catch in Salt Lake City, a 5 hour drive away. He still had to pay Devon.
Just as Ben was telling us about his time constraints, we all watched as Devon took a left turn at a fork. To the right, a sign told us, was Chamberlain's Ranch.
Fifteen minutes later, Devon realized that the one person who had hired the shuttle to go somewhere other than Chamberlain's Ranch was a no-show. Everybody in the van was going to Chamberlain's. Don't worry, I told him, only three of us are on tight schedules. He apologized for the error and turned the beast van around, now bound Chamberlain's Ranch.
Ben tried to continue, but instead became the victim of our ridicule as the dirt road we were traveling became slick and muddy. That rain last night? These desert road don't see much of it. So, when they get wet the top couple of inches turn into a greasy, sloppy mess, just like this. You're not going anywhere, Ben, and your poor girlfriend is stuck in the campground without any means to get food. (disclosure: Ben told us about some tech-savvy to make his phone produce cash but I got lost in the details; the truth is that his girlfriend was back at the tent with a dead phone and some hummus).
Ben was still optimistic, suggesting that if he drove "with momentum" he could make it up the slick hills and around the slick bends. Right about then, the van approach a slick hill-bend and stopped. This wasn't in any A-team episode I could remember. Our beast van was stuck.
We got out, a small group of tourists standing in a sloppy mud road, wondering what to do. It was 8 am, and Molly and I were about to make our decision. However, we had no visual on the river (was it high? it certainly had rained where we were standing). We also had only a suggestion as to how much additional mileage ("about a mile," Devon said) we'd be adding to our already stressful Narrows hike if we decided to start walking down the road to get to the trail. About a mile? Devon, if you're wrong and it's seven miles to the trail then we're simply not going to make it. "I'd be astonished if it's much more than two miles." Not exactly reassurance.You only live once.
That wasn't actually our reasoning, but it might as well have been. We were set to hunker down overnight if needed (though it would be miserable), and as long as we really move we could make that 8:30 pm shuttle. This would not be a stroll.
At 8:33 am, we arrived at the Chamberlain's Ranch trailhead after walking with Ben for what we speculated to be 1.5 miles. He was still upbeat and optimistic about his chances of actually driving out of there in a rented Honda. In doing so he'd be slipping right past the van and Devon, which would be something else. We wished him well and he pointed out that we were also in a bit of a pickle. Touche, Ben.
Behind Devon's van, another outfitter's van became stuck and three women started hiking behind us. They had the same itinerary, and anxieties, as we did. We started on the trail ahead of them and I told Molly that my intention was to be ahead and out-of-sight of those hikers all day.
The river, when we reached it 3 miles in, was low and clear. Before long we were hiking through the water, mostly below our knees, on our way downstream. At times the gorge was as narrow as only 12 feet with nothing but slimy, shiny vertical rock ascending to a slit of bright sky. Here and there we were presented with challenges like scaling up and over boulders or swimming across deep pools. Constantly vigilant of the conditions, I hiked a few steps ahead of Molly, pointing out high ground as it came.
Recalling those indicators of flash flood, I recited them out loud to Molly. All . . . day . . . long. Not because she didn't know them ,but rather because it quelled my anxiety about the scenario. There were six indicators, but nobody told us how to approach them. What if we hear thunder but there are no other indicators? What if the water gets cloudy and it rains, but nothing else happens? Of course there's no simple answer, but we proceeded with the following plan. Unless there are no high ground options, we just kept going. If we need high ground, it's there. If we get to a section with no high ground as far as we can see, we stop and evaluate.
Don't forget we had to make that 8:30 shuttle, which meant hiking 16 miles in under 12 hours.Given the terrain we were slopping through, we were worried about our pace.
High ground in the Narrows comes far more often than the park would lead you to believe. As I looked around, it was everywhere. Sometimes it might require climbing, but as the day went on I became more and more convinced that the flash flood danger in the Narrows was overblown (rightfully so, considering some of the choices made and inexperience of many tourists). At one point it began to rain and so we stopped our forward progression before entering a narrow section to carefully watch the water level. Much to our concern the river quickly rose about an inch on the rock we used to gauge it but it then flatlined. After about 20 minutes we moved very briskly through to the next section of gorge that had high ground options.
We didn't see anybody else in the Narrows for the first 10 miles, until we got to the point where out-and-back hikers were exploring from below. Before long there were dozens of people all around, taking photos and video, swimming, and enjoying the wonder of this magical place. We'd made it with time to spare. We caught the first shuttle that came, took it to our car, and splurged on dinner out.
If you're planning a trip to Zion, I highly recommend a Narrows hike, from the top. To be in that gorge with nobody else is a priceless experience you don't want to miss.
I don't need to go on about how amazing the hike through the Narrows was; there's plenty of content out there already. And, choosing to leave the camera at the campsite wasn't such a bad idea because the ones taken by those nice folks at the Internet are better than anything I could have taken.
