Landing

“The view from up here is exhilarating,” said Sarah, as she stepped up to the top of Angel's Landing.

Helen scrambled carefully up the last few steps of the precipitous trail. Over 1000 feet below the road through Zion National Park snaked along by the river. Sara and Helen had hiked all morning in the early sun.

The first section of their walk was on the hillside with switchbacks among desert bushes and sun bleached stones. Then they had entered the long diagonal path cut into the towering cliff face. This was where the path became scary, and it was hard to ignore the drop down on one side of the exposed trail. Eventually they had reached the hanging canyon with its cool shade, and then they had navigated a back-and-forth climb into the light on a path to the upper level. With hearts pounding, they ascended to the plateau.

After that was the hard part, as the path became increasingly dangerous, with every direction exposed to a precipitous fall off of sedimentary rock, cut by eons of erosion, with bright red, white, and brown layers. The final section out onto the fin of rock was a ridge walk fit for angels to dance upon, but for humans, it tested the nerves to the limit. In many places chains to hold on to had been set into the rock, but it was still scary to have to pass others who were on their way downhill without losing a hand-hold.

Finally at the top, they settled down. “Do you want a sandwich?” Helen asked, while rooting through the contents of her now dusty backpack.

In another dimesion angels came and went from the exposed ridge.