The climb to the top of Angel's Landing is a transect of Zion's geography -- a history of shallow inland seas, rivers, lake shores, and volcanoes that stretches back 250 million years. It's also a strenuous, 2.5 mile scramble that climbs 1,488 feet from the tram stop at Grotto Picnic Ground.

In the geological map at right (by Wayne L. Hamilton) the various layers are assigned colors and letter codes. The yellow is valley floor alluvium; the light blue is Lower Jurassic era Navajo sandstone; tan is mid-Jurassic Temple Cap sandstone.

The walk starts calmly along the Virgin River, teasing us with the massive cliffs beside us. Lizards scuttle through the drought-dry grasses, and squirrels observe our progress from bush-tops where they are busily harvesting tender spring leaves.

The scale of this country is monumental; full sized trees cling to cracks in the rock a thousand feet up in what must be magical hanging gardens unknown to any life that cannot fly.

Soon enough, the trail starts upward in earnest, zig-zagging back and forth across the alluvium and then clinging to natural and man-made ledges

Looking back down at the trail from the beginning of the last steep pitch up to the mouth of Refrigerator Canyon, a hanging canyon a third of the way up the cliff, we were already amazed that we'd made it this far. "We've got to see Walter's Wiggles," said Rochelle. "At least..."

After a very steep section blasted into a sheer face, we made it to the mouth of the hanging canyon, and got a good look back down the Virgin River gorge.

We had barely gotten our breath back, and were starting to admire this narrow little canyon, when Rochelle exclaimed, "This is the most beautiful place I have ever seen in my life!" She repeated it again two hours later on our way back down, and so it must be true.

The light here is magical, often a rosy reflection off sun struck red Navajo sandstone far above, filtering down and making the shadows glow. This little canyon shows the effects of rapid downcutting by abrasive-laden cloudbursts. In what might be called a geological instant, perhaps as short as 400,000 years, this thousand-foot deep slot has been cut in the rock.

The rock is magical, too, cross-banded, painted with iron oxide stains and desert polish, adorned with gnarled trees clinging stubbornly to their tiny ledges. (For more rocks, visit the Zion Rock Gallery.)

Apart from the occasional onslaughts of gritty flooding, this narrow canyon is a gentle place, and delicate, centuries-old water scuplting is common, as is the lushest desert varnish (a form of lichen) I have ever seen.

A quarter mile up canyon, we began the switchbacks that lead to Walter's Wiggles, named for the original architect of the West Rim trail, who blasted, cut, and blocked this solution to a major problem: how do you get hikers up a 500 foot cliff? Answer: 18 tight, steep switchbacks engineered into a wide crack.

Two horizontal miles and a fifth of a vertical mile from the trailhead, at the top of Walter's Wiggles, we climbed out onto the narrow saddle of Scout Lookout, far above Big Bend, with a view toward the Temple of Sinawava and the beginning of the Narrows. Here we took a well-deserved rest, and congratulated each other on getting so far. Looking ahead (as you can see in the image above) we could see that there was no longer anything that could be called a "trail" but more like a scramble, aided at times by chains, half a mile and 400 more vertical feet to the final goal, Angel's Landing. We agreed that Rochelle would wait, and I would make the attempt on the summit. "Be back in an hour," I blithely promised...

About five recovery stops later, I reached a wide spot below the final pitch to Angel's Landing, actually 100 vertical feet below Scout Lookout. It took another five bursts and recoveries to make it the rest of the way, across 30-inch catwalks above 1,200 foot drop-offs. When I finally attained the summit, I was glad to take a lengthy break and a few pictures.

Angel's Landing is a narrow camel back, with sheer drop offs and spectacular views on every side, and only one narrow way down. After a reasonable pause, a bagful of dried cranberries, and a few photographs, I was ready to scramble back down and rejoin Rochelle.

Needless to say, going down uses a different set of muscles, but also points one's eyes toward the bottom, whereupon one becomes very aware of how far up in the air one has climbed. The trams were tiny, and people invisible on the valley floor below.

Along the way, scrappy little dwarfed trees cling to cracks and run their roots down to other declivities in search of moisture and nutrients.

Many of them provide rugged frames for the beautiful cliffs and formations beyond. I was glad for the photographic breaks. By the time I regained Scout Lookout, my legs were shaking. Only half an hour late ...but Rochelle was waiting with cool water and a shady spot to rest before Walter's Wiggles and the down trail.

Credit where it's due: to the National Park Service. It has been written that Zion is the most accessible of U.S. National Parks, because it has such a well developed network of trails in such a small area. While clinging to the chains high above the valley, I was grateful that those in charge allow this kind of accessibility. Where else in the U.S. would your government allow this kind of risk taking? The pioneering spirit is alive, and available to anyone who cares to clamber hand-over-hand along the chains and narrow catwalks.

I asked the next ranger I saw if many have been lost. "Not many," he replied, "and the last couple were lost under suspicious circumstances. I don't recommend going up there if you and your wife aren't on good terms..."

And by the time we got to the mouth of the canyon, just before heading down the steepest part of the trail, I looked up and caught Zion's icon, the Great White Throne, with the day's first full sunlight bathing its western face. Rochelle had already repeated her judgment, and I had to agree: this may be the most magnificent place on the planet.

Different muscles indeed! Going down Walter's Wiggles I could feel all the ascending muscles and the descending muscles complaining about unaccustomed exertion. I told them the experience and views were worth it, and they carried me the rest of the way down. By the time we reached the floor of the hanging canyon, the sun had reached in, and was illuminating the rock sculpture on the walls

Awhile later, having regained the valley floor and trammed back to the Lodge, with a soft ice cream between us, we looked back up canyon and up the sheer walls at Angel's Landing, and then back at each other. "Were you really up there?" Rochelle asked.

"Someone with our camera was, at least," I answered. "You weren't that far behind."

"I know," she said, wonderment in her voice. "This is the most beautiful place I've ever seen..."