Beer, Boots, and the Mighty Angels Landing

Beer, Boots, and the Mighty Angels Landing By Adam Anderson

There I was, a 49-year-old guy from Nebraska, standing at the base of Zion National Park’s famous Angels Landing trail. My wife bless her heart had this idea that we needed an adventurous getaway, and somehow, that translated to me sweating buckets while staring up at a mountain with a trail name that sounded like an action movie.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I like hiking... if you count walking from my hammock to the fridge for another brew. But real hiking? With cliffs, chains, and heights? Let’s just say I wasn’t the one Googling “best hikes in Utah” during our trip planning.

But hey, a man’s gotta prove he can still hang. So, armed with a daypack stuffed with snacks and a questionable pair of hiking boots I’d owned since Clinton was president, I set off.

The first part of Angels Landing, known as the West Rim Trail, was a breeze. Switchbacks? No problem. It was like a treadmill set to "nature." I even passed a few folks along the way, trying to look like I wasn’t dying inside. “Good morning,” I’d huff, all casual, like I wasn’t secretly wondering if I should turn around and hit the lodge bar instead.

Then came Walter’s Wiggles—21 tight switchbacks that sound fun but feel like the StairMaster’s evil cousin. By the 10th wiggle, I was questioning all my life choices. By the 15th, I was wondering if anyone ever helicoptered out of this thing for a cheeseburger emergency. But somehow, I made it to Scout Lookout, the “rest stop” before the real madness begins.

The Chains: Who Needs a Beer When You Have Adrenaline?

Scout Lookout was where I met my nemesis: the chain section leading to the top. Now, I’ve watched enough action movies to know that when someone hands you a chain, things are about to get sketchy. And they weren’t kidding.

This part of the hike was a mix of gripping the chain for dear life and trying not to look down at the 1,000-foot drop to the canyon floor. There were a few times I thought, This is it. This is how I go. Headlines will read: ‘Man with Questionable Footwear Tries Famous Hike, Fails Spectacularly. Dumb.’

But then, something clicked. Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe it was the competitive guy ahead of me who kept muttering, “Almost there.” Whatever it was, I powered through, sweaty palms and all. My wife, who was about 10 feet behind me, kept saying, “You’re doing great!” which I think was her way of making sure I didn’t chicken out.

When we reached the summit, it all made sense. The view was insane. You could see the whole canyon stretching out below, the river winding like a ribbon, and hikers looking like ants down below on the trail. It was humbling and a little magical.

I cracked open a celebratory drink (water, sadly—park rules) and sat there, feeling like Indiana Jones. The way the sun hit those red cliffs, the quiet buzz of the wind? It made the panic worth it.

The Descent: A True Test of Knees

Coming down was almost harder than going up. My knees, which had been on their best behavior so far, decided to file a formal complaint. But by then, I was in the groove. I made small talk with other hikers (“No, I’m not a local, why do you ask?”), helped a lady down a tricky section, and even started thinking about my next hike. Crazy shit.

When we finally hit the trailhead, I was exhausted but pumped.

So, would I do Angels Landing again? Honestly, yeah. It was terrifying, exhilarating, and weirdly satisfying. Plus, it gave me a solid excuse to hit the bar that night without guilt.

For all you “I’m not a hiker” types out there, here’s my advice: Just go for it. You might surprise yourself. And if nothing else, you’ll have a great story to tell over beers when you get back home.

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