OK, perhaps I’m being a little dramatic. But still, this is the day that I’ll never forget. The day my Yaktrax fell into the abyss. The day I was stuck way out in the funnel. The day I was too paralyzed to move forward, too petrified to move back.
Like always, it all started out in an innocent way. We got out of bed early to catch the sunrise at Double Arch. First hidden by the Manti-La Sal Mountains in the distance, then behind clouds, the sun came out to play late, but we were still delighted to watch as the dull brown of Entrada sandstone suddenly began to glow orange in the sun’s early light. The bright orange contrasted beautifully with the white blanket of snow and deep blue sky, spotted by feathery tufts of cloud. Yes, it all started out innocently…a day like all the others. Suddenly, a wild rabbit appears, staring me in the eyes, very close. It wants to travel the footprint path, as do I, and I’m in its way. After a moment, I mercifully step off the path and the rabbit darts past me. Looking down, I notice how the snowflakes don’t look like snowflakes at home. They’re dry, crystalline, shimmery, flecks of glitter that blink and dance like Christmas tree lights. The sun’s up, time for breakfast. We head back to town – we’ve discovered a new favorite in Zax Pizza and Watering Hole – not for the pizza, but the truly awesome chili burgers.
After a satisfying meal, we head back into the park towards Delicate Arch. This is the most famous arch in all of Utah – the arch on the state license plates. There’s three ways to view Delicate Arch – from the lower viewpoint, the upper viewpoint, or up close and personal – the long hike. I would accept nothing less than being able to stand directly under the arch. It’s a 1 1/2-mile one-way hike up the mountain, rated by the park service as strenous and icy. But our newly purchased Yaktrax (you know – those metal spiral things that you put on the bottom of your boots that help you walk on packed snow and ice) keep us upright. After an hour or so of hiking, we travel a narrow path, winding around the curve of the mountain, and we’re here! Wasn’t that bad at all – easy really! Can’t believe that was “strenous!”
The path ends on a relatively wide, flat ledge. It’s about 3 pm. Lots of photographers on the ledge, tripods set up, they stake their claim to their little area of ledge. I trudge around, scope out what’s left, pick my spot. I realize we’re still pretty far from the arch. I’m disappointed. I thought this trail was supposed to take us right up to stand under the arch??? I look around and realize that standing before us is a giant funnel. We’re on one edge of the funnel, and the arch is standing on the opposite edge. And to get to the arch, you can’t walk around on the flat edge of the funnel, but you must ENTER the funnel and walk inside it as you cling to vertical cliff face. And in the middle of the funnel is the hole…the abyss. I see a man and woman out in the funnel. They’re about 1/3 of the way around, leaning against the vertical rock face, trying to find handholds that don’t exist. After a few minutes, they come back in. I ask the guy if it’s hard. Yeah, he says, even though it doesn’t look like there’s much snow/ice, it’s slippery. I settle in with my tripod to my staked claim of land; it’ll be a while before the sun sets. After another 30 minutes or so, two more guys appear. They head out into the funnel, make their way around. Five or 10 minutes later, one of the guys is done, he’s made it! He’s standing under the arch, peering over the edge of the cliff! It looks easy! He didn’t have any trouble at all!
I’m gonna do it! My husband helps me put on my Kata 3N1-20 camera backpack; I leave all my gear with him except one camera body and wide angle lens. I climb off the ledge into the funnel and begin to make my way around. My feet slip and slide a bit, but it’s not that hard. I lean towards the outside of the funnel, towards the cliff wall. I get about 1/3 of the way around and come to a jutting rock. I can’t lean out anymore – I actually have to walk down INTO the funnel in order to get around the rock. My heart starts to beat a bit faster – I’m kind of afraid of heights. One of the guys is there. He helps me into a more comfortable position, but by now my heart is racing. I’m clinging to rock, and it’s not so easy anymore. I realize that my metal Yaktraks aren’t helping me on bare rock. I take them off and stick them into my pants pocket, not wanting to get my jacket pockets dirty. The guy who helped me leaves; the second guy is still there. He stands there in silence as I, petrified, cling to the rock, sniffling from the cold and blowing my nose with kleenex stored in my pocket. After 10 minutes, I feel like I’m losing my grip. I can’t hold any longer. I ask the guy for help. He scrambles down and helps me up onto a little ledge on the other side of the jutting rock, then leaves. Now I’m stuck on the other side. I’m still too scared to go forward, too scared to go back. My camera backpack is in my way, stopping me from pushing back and sitting squarely in the ledge. And did I already mention that I’m afraid of heights?
As I shift around in discomfort, one of my Yaktrax falls out of my pocket and slides down the funnel towards the abyss. I should have just put it in my jacket pocket after all. My husband yells at me from the distance. I think he’s asking if I want him to come out, but I don’t. I don’t want him to risk falling. So I sit there. I take out my camera and shoot a few shots, then put my camera back. I wonder when someone else is going to come out. After a while, a young Indian couple decides to try it. They make their way up to me, and I mention to the girl that she’s braver than me. They go around me, casually walk the rest of the way, and then they’re under the arch, taking pictures of each other, smiling, laughing. Now I’m desperate. OK, I yell back to my husband, you should come help me! I see him pick up my tripod and swing the heavy backpack with the rest of my camera gear onto his shoulders. Leave it all behind! I yell in desperation! Leave it! I don’t want it to throw him off balance and make him fall. I yell at him to take off his Yaktraks, but he refuses, stubbornly believing that they’ll help him on the rock. Now I’m scared that he’ll slip and slide, he’ll fall into the funnel because of me. It seems like he’s taking forever. My legs are beginning to tremble. Hurry up! I can’t stand here forever!!! Finally, he makes his way towards me. I nervously watch his feet slip and slide. The Indian couple are on their way back; the woman passes under me, but the guy stays behind, sensing that something’s wrong. Now my husband’s here, crouched under me. He pulls at my leg. Come down, come down! Now, if you’re afraid of heights, you might know that you need to be comfortable in order to come down, and getting tugged at isn’t comforting! Stop touching me! I say. But you’re not going to fall!!! And if you’re afraid of heights, you’ll also know that talking about falling is not the way to calm someone down! Stop touching me! But you’re not going to fall! I start to hyperventilate. Hu uh Hu uh Hu uh Hu uh. Tears begin to fall. Someone has the idea of taking my backpack. That’s a good idea. But I don’t want my husband to take it – he has Yaktrax on, and he might slip and fall. The Indian guy offers to take the pack, and that calms me a bit. I don’t remember what happens after that, but finally, I do come down, my husband holding my leg, and guiding it down to the bit of rock below. Once I’m down and on the other side of the jutting rock, it’s easy. I follow them back around the funnel, finally climbing out onto the flat ledge of safety.
And that, my friends, is the story of the day I almost died.
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Delicate Arch, Arches National Park, Utah, glows a fiery orange at sunset.
Gosh, those heights fears are not easily conquered even with climbing classes. I strongly recommend seeking a Moab based guide service to steer you to equally photogenic landscapes, that would avoid the dilemma you endured. In my eyes, you remain a champion. Sorry the shot you imagined was missed. Visit again for another chance, albeit, elsewhere than a place to test your anxiety.
Best wishes!