Lying face up on a cot in the one room Zion Canyon Medical Clinic in rural Utah, feverish and apparently severely dehydrated, I contemplated how my travels had led me to this point. My vision was going in and out and it was becoming harder to see the petite older woman, who was the only available doctor closer than an hour from Zion National Park. 36 hours prior to this humbling moment, I had been hiking and canyoneering off cliffs. In the blackness, I thought about the views I’d seen and what I’d learned. Yeah, I thought, this moment here on this cot on what, not to be dramatic, feels like the brink of death, is worth it.
After a quick fainting spell, the doctor called the ER in Kanab, a small town an hour away, to expect a very dehydrated young lady who can’t seem to stand for a duration longer than two minutes without collapsing. “We see stuff like this all the time, don’t worry sweetie. We just can’t perform the necessary blood tests you need at this clinic,” the clinician said. Calling the ER is not typical in non-emergent cases, but in small towns clinics seem to have a level of hospitality and personal touch that I have never found in my hometown of New York City.
The Zion National Park is its own ecosystem, supporting at least 800 species of plants. All of its life — the cacti, water falls, ferns, foxes, wild flowers, trees, avalanches, deer — exist because of the Virgin River’s power. The river can be seen from the highway and then in full force in the park. In March the river can be at its deepest and coldest as a result of melting snow. Looking down at the river from the trails, I was in awe that something that seemed so harmless and minuscule in comparison to the towering rock mountains was the cause of mass erosion and life-threatening flash floods. Without the river, there is no Zion.
Maybe it’s always been this way, but in 2023, amidst an industrial and urbanized world on the verge of climatic destruction, stepping onto the grounds of a National Park like Zion and Bryce feels like landing on Mars or paying homage to some sort of Holy Ground. The mountains are a striking orangey-red with streaks of different shades and browns as if someone had painted them. When it rains, little waterfalls come peeking out of nooks and crannies, often creating small pools. You can smell the fresh water, and the air feels cool and damp — a warning to travelers that the climate in the early Spring is a catalyst for Raynaud’s Syndrome. Nature makes itself known; it towers over the hikers, threatening flash floods and avalanches if one isn’t careful. The rushing river and monstrous mountains remind visitors that they are on nature’s turf and are no match for mother earth's whims. It only took two days in high altitude for me to fall.
As we begin our exit from Zion and approach the tippity top of a mountain, a roadway winds its way towards the apex, and the scenery dramatically changes. At the tippity top of the mountain, where most of the trail heads on this route can be accessed with a car, the scenery dramatically changes. When visiting in mid-March, the pitch black Zion Mount Carmel tunnel brings you from Spring to Winter in under five minutes. Rocks that were at first strikingly red are now covered in snow. There are no cacti anymore, instead pine trees. The terrain resembles stacks of pancakes with a hearty sprinkling of powdered sugar. This was my view on the way to the emergency room; life could be much worse.
The Kanab Emergency Room was quiet and clean. After checking out my medical situation the doctor said something along the lines of, “Push yourself as much as you would like. Sometimes you end up in a dire situation, and sometimes you don’t. I would hate it if you missed the helicopter ride and Bryce trails.” Never in my life had a doctor advised me to take such risks. Yet, this adventurous mentality was consistent with the majority of locals I met. Our canyoneering tour guide, Matt, seemed to see the world as his playground while treating it with his utmost respect. His typical day consisted of propelling off mountains, fixing the well, and spending the evening with his girlfriend in the hot tub he built from an old giant metal trough. The clinician’s husband lived in Park City because he liked the adrenaline of treating ski injuries. The universe of activities and the risk nature provided was, for all them- the ER doctor, the clinician, and Matt, - simultaneously their work and home.
Lying now in the emergency room hospital bed, an IV providing me much-needed nutrients, I considered again: would I do this all over? My answer was still, “yes, without a doubt, though next time I’ll drink a couple more sips of water.” We travel to broaden our experiences, to see new things, and in the case of national parks and American Western deserts, to be a part of virtually untouched nature. Any challenges along the way are just part of the journey.
A few Takeaways and Tips
1.According to Utah medical professionals, against all intuition and general logic, you CANNOT drink water when severely dehydrated. So don’t get dehydrated unless you're a major Gatorade fan and IV junkie.
2. In Bryce, take a moment to lie in the snow and look at the spectacular view of Hoodoos. Who cares what other hikers think, trust me, you’ll be so hot the cold snow will be a very welcomed cushion.
Recommended attire: Snow pants
Extra activity: roll a snowball down the side of the mountain and watch it run down the incredibly steep drop and get bigger and bigger until you can no longer see it…
3. If going in the Spring, buy a poncho before they sell out.
4.If possible, go to the National Parks, or really anything having to do with nature travel (coral reefs, etc.), now because at this rate who knows how long they will be around.
Protect the Earth.
References:
Cuthbert, Lori, and Joe Yogerst. “Everything to Know about Zion National Park.” Travel, National Geographic, 10 May 2022, https://www.nationalgeographic.com/travel/national-parks/article/zion-national-park.
“The Narrows.” National Parks Service, U.S. Department of the Interior, https://www.nps.gov/zion/planyourvisit/thenarrows.htm