Mindfulness in the Mountains

When I was younger, I remember there were many instances involving my dad telling me to pay attention to my surroundings. We would be hiking, usually close to home in Salt Lake City, or maybe in Zion National Park, and I’d be running wild; jumping over cracks (to avoid breaking my momma’s back), climbing rocks, looking for animals. Without a doubt I’d probably forget to pay attention and run right into oncoming hikers. My parents would apologize, obviously embarrassed, and then we’d be on our way.

As I grew older and learned from my actions, my folks didn’t have to worry so much about me interrupting the peacefulness of other hikers. I learned that I could still have an enjoyable time skinning my knees and getting dirt all over myself without stepping on anybody’s toes.

Now, later, my mind is boggled to see those very same actions—those of a seven-year-old—being made by teens, milennials, and even adults.

We live in a world where stupidity and mindlessness is trendy. We live in a society where, somehow, our own self deserving sense of pride allows us to be as loud and obnoxious as we want, and then play it off with a demand that others “let people enjoy things!”

I’ve done dumb, annoying things in my teens. I’ll be forward. But I’ll also point out, even Steve-O from Jackass is out raising awareness for charitable causes. We all have an ability to learn, to adapt and evolve, to change.

This doesn’t mean we can’t still have fun. We can enjoy things. We can go with our friends into the mountains, have some coffee or a trail beer, and have the best time of our lives! But we need to be more mindful of the other people attempting to do the same.

I took a hike up Donut Falls in Big Cottonwood Canyon, Utah, about three weeks ago. We got to the Falls only to find a group of about ten high school kids standing in the middle of the trail. Nobody was paying attention to other hikers. All they cared about was their snapchat stories, their selfies, and laughing at their own actions. There were about 20 other people, all waiting patiently (with scowls on their faces) to get up to the viewpoint to snap their pictures and enjoy the fruits of their laborious hike. Instead, we all were rudely forced to wait while each teen snapped “just one more selfie!” and then hike back down, looking back at their friends, dawdling, and generally pissing everyone off.

I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: I am immensely happy that our society is trending back towards outdoorsmanship and outdoor activities. I AM happy that those teens were spending their morning in the mountains rather than playing video games or making bad choices. The problem is that we just don’t make any effort to be respectful of others, or nature, while we go on our adventures.

Back to my hike. On our way back down the trail we were suddenly aware that there was music echoing up the canyon. Loud music. In the tranquil forest. My one escape into the woods after a long week of working to bring home the proverbial bacon, and it’s stomped on by a group of millennials with a bluetooth speaker blasting pop music!

Back in the days of my youth, my folks loved to complain about how often they’d find me with my headphones on, but not once did they ever have to tell me to leave my music in the car while we hiked. I’ve always loved the sounds of nature. I’ve always believed that music was NOT a necessity of hiking.

John Muir said: “I’d rather be in the mountains thinking about God than be in a church thinking about the mountains.”

Whether you’re there to think about God, think about your life, or think about how awesome the scenery is, my music blasting out of a speaker is the last thing you want to hear.

Now, there are some offenders who don’t necessarily know they’re being less than kind. One example comes from a family trip to Zion National Park in November of 2016. My wife and I went for thanksgiving with my parents. We stayed in Zion Lodge and ate a wonderful thanksgiving dinner there. At 7:30 AM on Thanksgiving morning, my dad and I started out on the Angel’s Landing hike. I’m sure you’ve heard of it, some of you have probably seen the viral video of someone hiking it in the winter with a GoPro. Some of you may have been lucky enough to actually make the trip yourselves. For those who haven’t, I’ll explain.

Angel’s Landing starts at The Grotto. The trail is wide, moderately steep, and buried within a slot canyon—maybe a half a mile wide. After about a mile you start the steeper climb toward Refrigerator Canyon. At this point, no matter the temperature outside, Refrigerator Canyon temps are about ten to twenty degrees lower and windy. You’re suddenly in shadows. The noise is gone. It’s peaceful. About a quarter mile of quiet and you finally make it to Walter’s Wiggles. The wiggles are a set of 21 switchbacks with about 100 feet of immediate elevation gain. This is steep. Stupid steep. At the end of the wiggles is Scout Lookout, and the place where I was doomed to finish this hike every year as a child. My parents deemed the final section of Angel’s Landing “too dangerous,” and for good reason. In the last 100 years, five people have actually died falling off the cliffs. Doesn’t seem like many, but I would argue that it’s too many. Scout Lookout is sandy and flat with two exits—one going back down and one going up. If you choose to go up, you begin climbing. Not steep hiking—climbing. There are steps in the sandstone that have been slowly, but surely, formed into the walls after a hundred years of hikers, and they’re accompanied by heavy metal chains. The chains are usually freezing cold, but worth the chill to prevent plummeting to your death. From this point on you are LITERALLY one false step from death. Those with fear of heights would do well to avoid this destination.

Now that I’ve told you about the hike, I can come back around to my subject at hand. While your sure footing and mindfulness of your own surroundings are a big part of what keep you safe on this hike, so are those very same behaviors from other hikers.

On our way back down from Angel’s Landing, before we got back to Scout Lookout, it became clear that the masses had begun to ascend our peaceful sanctuary. With 20 or 30 people coming down the trail single file, 50 or 60 more we’re attempting to come up that same single file pathway. I found a semi safe (but stupid) way around the crowd, swinging from tree branches and hoping my shoes were grippy enough to hold me on the sandstone, and made it down to block the trail in front of a large group. I smiled and civilly shouted so the crowd could hear me, “Good Morning, everyone! The pathway ahead is packed with people attempting to come down. There is not room enough for them AND for you. Please wait for a few minutes to allow them to safely make it past you!” In response, I got a smile, and then the crowd continued to mindlessly press on. Not a single person listened to my kind request. Every one of them felt that someone else would take action and they didn’t have to.

Now I will say it again: I want you, I want all those people on Angel’s Landing, to be in the outdoors. I LOVE that we have access to these wide open playgrounds. But five deaths on Angel’s Landing, much less any hiking area, is just too many. Be mindful of your surroundings!

I’m beyond lucky to have been able to hike Angel’s Landing. I’m incredibly lucky to have been able to complete this hike with my own Dad, who probably won’t be hiking it ever again. I intend on taking my own children to experience the rush of looking down from the top of one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been. But I promise you this, not only will I wait until they’re old enough to exercise good judgement, but if YOU encounter us on the trail, it won’t be MY kids annoying you.

Please keep exploring. Please keep adventuring. Keep bushcrafting and trekking. But please, please be kind. Help others enjoy themselves while safely enjoying yourself.