In preparation for hiking the West Coast Trail I took a trip down the Virgin River Narrows. It’s a breathtaking twelve mile hike along the river through a slot canyon.
Convincing my sister took about 2.5 seconds. Somehow I also convinced my best friend to go. Kay is not at all outdoorsy but we talked about it, did tons of research, and decided to go for it. What’s not to enjoy about a trip that promises hiking similar to ‘walking on greased bowling balls’?
We knew we'd be walking in water up to our knees most of the time. It was also understood there were a few areas where we'd get wet to our waists. Nowhere in our research did we find mention of record high water levels that year. That would have been good to know.
The hike started in high spirits with excitement for the adventure to come. We talked, took pictures, splashed in the river and generally had a great time. Around lunch time we took a good look at the map and realized we were a long way from our designated campsite and were quickly running out of time to get there.
By nightfall we were still about a mile from our campsite. It was too dark to continue so we found a semi flat area away from the water and put up our tents. It was a rough night. We were halfway into our trip and only a quarter of the way into the canyon. The next day was going to be long and much more strenuous. At first light we were packed up and on the move.
The water level was 5 to 10 inches higher than normal. Water that should have been at our knees was at our thighs and moving fast. Areas with higher water levels became places we needed to swim. Swimming in 35 degree water is not fun. We'd strip down to shorts and sport bras, stuff our clothes into the packs, desperately try to convince ourselves it wouldn't be so cold, then jump in. It was very, very cold.
During all this Kay was trying very hard not to fall, not to break an ankle, and not to die. She measured and tested every step. Every.Single.One. I figured, at the worst we'd spend a second night and be hungry, she figured one of us might die. Three words I'm no longer allowed to use in conversation with her; Zion, river, and Narrows.
Even with her extra effort, my poor, exhausted friend fell in the river twice. She also came close to knocking herself out when she cracked her head on a boulder. The backpack her friend loaned her broke so that it hung on her nearly sideways.
Kay at the end of the trail. Cold, wet, and tired but almost done.
Never in my life, before or since, have I been so sore in every part of my body. It was so bad all I could do was laugh at how pathetic my every move became. Even still, I'd love to make that trip again. Despite everything, my sister and I had a great time and it was a beautiful hike. Kay, not so much.
Convincing my sister took about 2.5 seconds. Somehow I also convinced my best friend to go. Kay is not at all outdoorsy but we talked about it, did tons of research, and decided to go for it. What’s not to enjoy about a trip that promises hiking similar to ‘walking on greased bowling balls’?
We knew we'd be walking in water up to our knees most of the time. It was also understood there were a few areas where we'd get wet to our waists. Nowhere in our research did we find mention of record high water levels that year. That would have been good to know.
The hike started in high spirits with excitement for the adventure to come. We talked, took pictures, splashed in the river and generally had a great time. Around lunch time we took a good look at the map and realized we were a long way from our designated campsite and were quickly running out of time to get there.
By nightfall we were still about a mile from our campsite. It was too dark to continue so we found a semi flat area away from the water and put up our tents. It was a rough night. We were halfway into our trip and only a quarter of the way into the canyon. The next day was going to be long and much more strenuous. At first light we were packed up and on the move.
The water level was 5 to 10 inches higher than normal. Water that should have been at our knees was at our thighs and moving fast. Areas with higher water levels became places we needed to swim. Swimming in 35 degree water is not fun. We'd strip down to shorts and sport bras, stuff our clothes into the packs, desperately try to convince ourselves it wouldn't be so cold, then jump in. It was very, very cold.
During all this Kay was trying very hard not to fall, not to break an ankle, and not to die. She measured and tested every step. Every.Single.One. I figured, at the worst we'd spend a second night and be hungry, she figured one of us might die. Three words I'm no longer allowed to use in conversation with her; Zion, river, and Narrows.
Even with her extra effort, my poor, exhausted friend fell in the river twice. She also came close to knocking herself out when she cracked her head on a boulder. The backpack her friend loaned her broke so that it hung on her nearly sideways.
Kay at the end of the trail. Cold, wet, and tired but almost done.
Never in my life, before or since, have I been so sore in every part of my body. It was so bad all I could do was laugh at how pathetic my every move became. Even still, I'd love to make that trip again. Despite everything, my sister and I had a great time and it was a beautiful hike. Kay, not so much.
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