“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair… “ Charles Dickens, “A Tale of Two Cities”
The Virgin River was running fast and muddy during my visit this year to Zion. -- Photo by Pat Bean
*Journeys
Waking up nestled in the shadow of Zion National Park’s sandstone cliffs in the Watchman Campground this morning felt like being at home.
As I watched, through the window of my heated RV, the rising sun coming up over one set of high cliffs to dance down the cliffs on the other side, I thought of the many other mornings here that hadn’t been quite so comfortable.
The first one that popped into my was the cold morning I melted a pair of tennis shoes — while wearing them – because of putting my feet too close to a blazing campfire while watching the rising sun in eager anticipation of it finally hitting out tent site.
Then there were other mornings when shorts were the order of the day before the sun had risen that high. Zion weather in April and early May is a crap shoot.
But of all my visits to Zion, the most memorable is the one my family refers to as the “Camping Trip from Hell.”
It was 1995, and family members were coming to Zion from Texas, Utah, Illinois and California to join me for my annual April birthday climb of Angel’s Landing. We were all on the road when a landscape up Zion Canyon blocked the Virgin River, which then backed up creating a lake before it finally broke through taking a section of the Zion Canyon road with it.
While Zion's awesome cliffs mesmerize me, I still remember to look down at my feet. -- Photo by Pat Bean
We put my mother up in the Thunderbird Motel east of the park, but the rest of us continued as planned with the camp out. Since we couldn’t access the Angel’s Landing Trail, we hiked The Overlook and Watchman trails instead.
Wind blew down our tents, snow froze us and rain made it almost impossible to keep a fire going. But everyone stuck it out, and while it might not have been the best of times, it made for the best of memories.
Today, whenever the topic of camping is brought up at a family gathering, you can count on someone immediately asking; “Remember our camping trip from hell?”
And then the tall tales begin in earnest – and suddenly everyone is smiling.
*Day 13 of the Journey, May 1, 2011
Family camping trips–jewels among the ashes and mud–good memories for me as well. Loved the reminder of the flowers amidst the spectacular cliffs & vistas.
Thanks Susan. I always enjoy your comments.
Keep writing … Pat Bean https://patbean.wordpress.com
This reminds me of our family story of experiencing snow in August on top of Mount Killington in Vermont. My Aunt Barbara had decided to take us kids on a ride up the mountain via the open ski tow. “You can see six states and two countries”, she told us. Half way up the mountain the wind was blowing, the snow flying and not dressed for winter weather, we were freezing. One top of the mountain, there was 2 inches of snow on the ground, and it was so socked in you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. Aunt Barbara was always an adventure!!
April, early May weather in Zion sounds as predictable as Texas weather, Pat.
Looks like you are having another lovely journey!
Nancilynn
It reminds me of the time I took a train trip from Milan to Venice. I had been in Milan working, and went to Venice to visit a few days. While there, the biggest cold front they have had in years blew through. I am not familiar with the area having only been there one time. I had to catch the train to come back to Milan, so I could take my flight back home to the states the following morning. The usual 2 hour train trip took 6 hours. When I got off of the train, traffic was stopped. I had to figure out a way to get back to the hotel where all of my baggage was stored, and I was staying my last night in Italy. I took the underground as far as I could to get and closest to the hotel. The same traffic jam was at the underground parking-lot when I came up; so, I started walking to the hotel. It was snowing, and I got lost. A nice gentleman, who had a very small car, but snow tires, and claimed he loved the snow stopped and asked me where I was heading. I told him, and he happily took me to the front door of the hotel.
The next day getting home is whole new story. My dad called it the trip from hell. I don’t know what I called it. Venice was beautiful, but I did get pretty bone cold. I can still feel that air penetrating my Texas skinny bones.
I hope you guys remember those trips as fondly as we remember our camping trip from hell. There’s a lot of pride in sticking something like that out. Thanks for commenting
Ah, camping trips from hell. My mom and I used to do a lot of backpacking- back when I was at home and we both had time to take off together. We camped with a group of friends and went several times a season. One particularly memorable trip one of my good girlfriends joined and shared a small tent with us. It was already chilly when the trip started, but not too bad. We were prepared for the cold of a N Florida winter. But, sometime after dark it started to rain. And not just a little rain. A heavy, drenching downpour that went on and on and on… gross. Everyone in the group had pitched their tents on the sloped sides of the little bowl-shaped clearing where we’d stopped, the middle being set aside for cook fires and such. But still, somehow, we’d managed to put our tent in a small depression. In the wee hours of the morning, we woke up floating…literally floating. The rain was pooling between the ground cloth and the bottom of our tent, and we then had a slightly leaky waterbed. All through the night, too cold and uncomfortable to sleep, we floated as the water slowly oozed through the fabric of the tent floor. By sunrise, our tent and sleeping bags were sopping, our backpacks were dampish, and we were frozen through. Plus, the temperature had dropped and all the puddles had a crust of ice. No dry wood was to be had for a warming fire. We were miserable, wet, cold, and tired, and we still had 2 days of hiking to go. We made it, and boy were we happy to get out of damp clothes and find a warm meal in a warm restaurant by the time it was all over!