Myself, Matt Lemke, a Toyota Camry station-wagon capable, and a week in Utah.
(all routes were led unless otherwise noted)
Angel’s Landing - standard route
Junk In The Trunk p1 5.7
Ghetto Booty p1-3 5.8
Better Safe Than Sorry p1 5.8
Gunswinger 5.10 (TR)
Salty Dog Arete 5.9
Crimson King 5.11 (TR)
Just Another Jam 5.7
The Headache p1-3 5.10 (F)
Cave Crack p1 5.7
Ataxia Tower - Ashtar Command p1-3 5.9
Mount Kinesava - Cowboy Ridge 5.7
Monkey Business Slot (Butler Creek)
Hog Canyon - Middle Fork
Hiking and Cragging in Zion National Park
|First View of Angel's Landing|
|Zion Canyon South from Angel's Landing|
|Angel's Landing North Face|
|Zion Canyon north from Angel's Landing|
|Matt eyeing something in the Kung Fu Theater|
|Matt rappelling down from what was not the end of the first pitch of Ghetto Booty|
|Ghetto Booty 5.8 (last section 5.9 according to topo)|
|Crimson King 5.11 rigged for toproping|
|The Headache pitch 1 5.9|
|Matt and Dow below The Headache|
|The Cave Crack 5.7+ (+,+)|
|Ashtar Command pitch 1 5.7|
Mount Kinesava - Cowboy Ridge
|Mount Kinesava, with West Temple visible to the right|
|Matt below Cowboy Ridge|
|First of several class 4 sections|
Because I was otherwise occupied not falling and dying I didn't get any photos of the crux section, Matt, however, did.
|True summit of Kinesava|
|Lunch at the top of Cowboy Ridge|
|Descent ramp visible just right of center|
|Just another anonymous splitter on the east face...|
Canyoneering in the North Wash
Or, if you prefer
Jerusalem Ultrabright (Draft)
Long was the night and tunnel-dark,
So that we entered one evening and emerged the next morning
With little conception of through what land we had passed.
Those long straight roads laid themselves down before us
And by a dim and wavering light our way was found.
We saw towns by the starscapes with which they blanketed the hills
And mountains by the skies they blotted out;
Wrecks emerged from that dark and receded into it,
And the swirling blizzard put us into a trance
Before me a corner of yellow-red rock stretching upward,
Foreshortened against the wall and sky
With a shadow telling of the accounted cavern
And the chains of my escape shining.
That cave, that funnel:
All the earth and in all my sight winnowed down to an arm’s length of sandstone,
And its unknown inner faces
Smirking at me.
Because the greatest distance between two points is always in your mind.
Breathe, close your eyes–not those, the others, and move:
A foot and a hand, another hand and then step-up!
Pull through, pull through…
Hand on the ledge, knee on the ledge–
Then does the spring come and all the world open up.
On the floor of the desert,
Between the footprints we follow,
There rise tiny black crusts;
For here, where all stands on the edge of desiccation,
The dirt is alive.
Through the city to the path and through the desert to the ridge–
It is a mantra against fear;
Across the cliffs to the gap, continue upward, you will know the way–
A recitation to ward off demons;
Up the ramp to the tree, and then the crack, and then the summit–
Hail the jewel of the lotus flower, it means nothing but pleasure in the ears of God
And his good word to the djinn, the dwellers of this mountaintop oasis,
Who are dryads every one.
Here is the tunnel and here is the passage:
A birth canal of water and sand.
From the plateau sink the rivulets,
And from the rivulets come canyons,
These we walked and crawled and leaped
With little conception of through what land we passed.
The river laid down a path before us
And by the light of a narrow sky our way was found.
We saw our forebears by the tattered slings they left behind
And the floodwaters by the etching of the walls.
Footprints emerged and receded,
Sounds returning not as they had issued forth.