[This article has been revised as of July 30, 2009.]

The sun, having finally lowered itself from its high perch in the sky on its way home, peeks through mountain tops, as if wanting to say a last good-bye. Shining through the trees, the fire-red star sneaks last glances at hikers now making their way down from the canyons of Zion National Park.

It is now five o’clock in the afternoon. I stand in my hotel room viewing the distant cliffs. Bright rays of sunlight shine their last few minutes before finally disappearing, giving the high throne to the moon.

The room is comfortable. Having just taken a bath, my body carries a distinct scent of lavender and vanilla. The sweat acquired from the day hike is now washed off, but my sneakers show the true story.

Because the thing is, with every bit of dust covering the once shiny black finish on my Nike running shoes, it proves that I climbed the Angel’s Landing trail.

After a few recommendations by park rangers, hikers, and a certain old man, we decided to climb Angel’s Landing, one of the most popular hikes in Zion National Park, and for good reason, too: the view from the mountain peak high up makes even the largest redwoods appear as if they are ants.

The trail began after crossing a quaint wooden bridge. The waters of the Virgin River, the force the carved the marvelous canyon, flow below me, rippling against rocks, their sounds echoing through the canyon.

First, we climb into a smaller canyon. The path winds against the cool walls of sandstone. Green plants grow, and a small creek flows. Other than my own footsteps softly thudding on the ground, I can only hear birds chirping, the occasional rustle of the trees, and the wind, quiet but deadly.

Then we exit the canyon. The sun beams on us. In less than half an hour, all of our party has wet and dark backs as sweat is pumped out. A rock or a tree is a refuge; the path is not. Narrow paths wind up a mountain. It’s tiring, it’s hot, and every once in a while, I lean against the wall.

Finally, after hours of climbing, the path levels out. I’ve finally arrived at Scout’s Lookout: a turning point for those who do not want to hike the final portion of the Angel’s Landing trail: clinging to a chain, a hundred foot drop below.

We move forward. I turn my head down and see a dizzying drop. The trail up now now seems to be a pencil line, with ants moving back and forth. On second look, those ants are people. My head spins, and I quickly turn my head back to the chain.

One step at a time, I tell myself resolutely. Several times sandstone falls in front of me, from where people above have slipped and triggered the pieces of fragile sandstone to fall. It’s definitely scary. The entire time, the sky is bright blue, the sun shining on my neck.

Midway through, my parents decide to stop on top of a small mountain. We sit underneath a tree, a circle of darkness where the leaves shield us from the piercing sun. I lift my eye and look forward: a tall thin mountain. It’s long but very narrow, and the path climbs up one side steeply, with only four meters before a fall on either side.

From here, it’s easy to appreciate the beauty. Trees grow on the mountainside, and I can see people walking up and down on the slope. More stand at the top, admiring the view.

For me, it’s the climb that is worth it; it is the experience that is not important. I have a beautiful view from here already, and the experience that I have climbed one of the highest mountains in Zion.

I smile to my father.

After thirty minutes underneath a tree, eating apples and bread, our party makes our way back down. We arrive at the bottom 4PM. Total hiked: over five miles.