Helping hands aid in Landing descent

A brisk hour into the hike we arrive at Walter’s Wiggles. To say these 21 switchbacks are steep is almost insulting. Climbing them is hard, hard work. It’s a hard-core cardio workout, and while the scenery is so beautiful that I’m tempted to stop every 10 feet and just stare, there is hard work to be done. So I dig in, making it to the top of the wiggles where Scout Lookout sits.

This is the decision point. The hike here is no joke, and there’s no shame in doing what a vast majority of climbers do and spend some time taking in the park from on high, enjoying a picnic or snack and then doing the long hike down. I wonder: Should I do it? I’d not exactly sprinted up the climb (no shame in that either). And now that I saw the start of the final halfmile, it did seem ... tricky. My guide had assessed me though, and encouraged me to give it a try.

And so we forged ahead. Those final steps — that half mile of climbing, pulling, baby-stepping, praying, doubting and, yes, sweating — were some of the hardest steps I’ve taken in my life.

It’s not so much about the physical endurance. The climb is truly steep, but after Walter’s Wiggles, all seemed doable. It was more about my head. The final climb demands you focus on your feet and every step, since while the porous sandstone does grip, there are slippery parts. Focus on where you look, since you have a 1,000-plus-foot drop immediately to your side — and often to both sides — with nothing to stop you should you fall. There’s good reason the park warns anyone with any kind of fear of heights not to summit. It takes a strong mind to not fall prey to terror.

I move along, picking my way upward and realizing that while there are chains to pull on at some parts, these actually do little to offset the enormity of the challenge. Still, I’m thankful when I have them to grab and pull on from time to time.

Toward the top I think, “We have to be there soon.” A man coming down senses my worry and says, “It’s only about 400 kilometers more. You’re nearly there!” Oh, I think, 400 sounds like nothing. Wait ... that’s a quarter mile. I forge onward.

And then, I make it. I’m on top of the world. I’m at the point that not everyone can get to. I soak it in, take some pictures and celebrate. Then I realize: I have to climb back down. A waterslide down would be amazing, I joke to anyone who will listen.

But then it’s time to move. A metaphor for life. Just when you think you’ve conquered the world, the hard part comes along. Climbing down that half mile was truly one of the hardest things I’ve done in my life.

At one point I knew there was a chain around the corner, and I could not wait to feel its cool safety in my hands. But when I rounded the corner, picking my way there, I found a large group heading upward. Each was glued to the chain, with nowhere to go until I passed them. This meant no chain, and me finding toe holds, just below them on a steep decline with nothing to tether me or stop me if I slipped.

I said it aloud. “I can’t do it.”

And then something amazing happened. The first man in line — a stranger — held out his hand for me. I grabbed it. Three tiny steps. And then the next hand reached out for me. Three more tiny steps. And the next and the next. On the steep decline strangers teamed up to help me move past my fear.

I did it. And I have that forever. I’ll pull out Angels Landing again in my life, this I know. When work seems too hard or a relationship is challenging, I’ll know that in life — just like on jagged peaks — if you say your fears out loud, a hand will reach out to ease them.

How’s that for a vacation souvenir?