Walking Along the West Rim Trail

 08/21/26

Slightly overcast. Peculiar lighting. Yup. Time for a long walk in the sticks. I hopped on a company shuttle, its destination the northern terminus of the West Rim Trail. Up and up the Kolob Terrace Road, talking, talking, talking, the drive a complete blur. Before I knew it, we had arrived at the trailhead. The clients gathered their things and left. I lingered behind, tipping the driver in beans. Cannellini beans. And we chatted for a bit and enjoyed this slightly overcast morning with peculiar lighting, the temps hovering in the upper 80's, the day shapin' to be a hot one. 

And then I donned my cap and waved goodbye to the driver and took a bow or something like that and then began my long walk along the West Rim Trail. Ain't ever been on that trail before. I'd heard many good things about it. Time to see if those things were actually true.

Along the West Rim Trail

I eventually caught up to the clients and they were walking two abreast, just a couple of old friends that still possessed the conversational prowess of the typical middle schooler. And I heard them talking and laughing and then I passed them by and their voices faded away and it was back to nothing but warm air and overcast skies and tall pines. Quiet pines. Pines that had seen many things, awesome things, terrible things. So many things, and no way to tell anyone about it. Not a soul. Except maybe another tree. I swear thems communicate with one another. Trust me. They have their ways...

And so I walked beneath the pines and tried to eavesdrop on their conversation, the overcast skies slowly dissipating, the the sun growing more intense. Down the trail, walking, walking walking. The concentration of pines began to dissipate, scrub oak and manzanita now taking up all the available real estate. Views started comin' in now. Distant peaks. Rugged peaks. Inaccessible peaks. Variegated terrain, multicolored bumps and humps and precipices and cracks and divots and canyons galore. I stopped often, gazing upon this absurd scene, the image always impressive, the topography infinitely captivating. 

Caught me a horny toad. Put it in the shade. Wandered through a meadow. Never looked back. Sun up above, its rays quickly disintegrating the feeble clouds still lingering in the sky. Started heading uphill. Met a backpacker heavily perfumed with the pungent aroma of a tetrahydrocannabinol product. The scent lingered in the woods long after he was gone, it was so strong. And he was all smiles and sunshine and he said "Heyyyyy!" and I was like "sup" and that was the end of that conversation.

And then the grade began to grow more agreeable. More mellow. Easy on the heart, easy on the legs. But I was warmed up now and was lookin' for more uphill. Why not check out an obscure peak? I'd heard of "Never Done Mountain" and knew it was somewhere along the upper portion of the West Rim Trail. Just didn't know exactly where, you know? But I put on my thinkin' cap and I saw a rise and I was like, "Well, I reckon that's it right there, I reckon" and so I ditched the trail and began zig-zagging through prickly bushes and knee-high manzanita.

"Never Done Mountain" summit

Northwest

Southwest

By jove, my thinkin' cap had paid off. Before I knew it I was standing on the sandy summit, the views pretty dang good all things considered. Off to the northwest rose some familiar sights: Pine Valley Peak, North Guardian, the Northgate Peaks, and off in the distance the long, high, brown line of the Pine Valley Range, crystal-clear through the tepid air. Off to the southwest rose less familiar terrain. In fact, I hadn't a clue as to what I was lookin' at. Phantom Valley was somewhere down there. Ivin's Mountain. Inclined Temple. Emerald Peak. The fabled "Bishoprics." I tried putting names to the features, all for naught. Oh well. Made the views all the more mysterious. 

Once I'd had my fill this mystery, I suited up and made my way back to the trail, taking a diagonal line through the brush as a shortcut. Pro tip: don't do that. Ripped me a brand new hole in my shirt doin' that. Ahh well. That's what I get for cuttin' corners. 

Back on the trail, I walked probably eight more steps until I found myself standing face to face with the biggest bighorn sheep I've ever seen in my entire life. Stocky fellow, thick ol' neck, big ol' horns. Each one was close to the size of a french horn. And I stopped in my tracks and stared him down and he looked at me and was slightly puzzled. And then I saw something click in his eyes and he spun around in half a second and sprinted off into the bushes in the blink of an eye. I never saw him again. 

Staring contest

"Never Done Mtn" top right

And then it was back to up, back to an elevated heart rate, up and up to the top of Horse Pasture Plateau, the highpoint of the trail. Good views from up there. Just make sure to turn right instead of left when you reach a junction. Don't go down Telephone Canyon. I can imagine there ain't no views down there, but hey, you never know...

Continuing along, I left the trail every now and then and walked to the rim and sat and stared at the impressive views to the west. The day, though hot, was particularly clear; no haze, no nothin'. Unimpeded, clear, crisp views off and away into the distant west. Could see the urban sprawl of St. George. Could see West Mountain Peak and Zion View Peak wayy out there. Could even make out the tiny little silhouette of Mt. Bangs in the distance, something I wasn't expecting to see at all that day. Not wanting to rush through this scenery, I sat down at a particularly scenic spot, wolfed down some nuts and took a lil' break. And then, about 15 minute later, it was back to walkin', back to sweatin', they day only gettin' hotter with each passin' second. 

Phantom Valley

Gunsight Point center

And the trail started headin' down and it would remain that way for a good long while. And I saw Gunsight Point off in the distance, an interestin' lookin' spot with an even more interestin' lookin' approach. Didn't have no beta on it, but it didn't look that hard to get to. Just a long walk on a skinny peninsula in the sky. Looked mighty mighty cool. 

So I shrugged my shoulders and darted off the trail, scampering down a class 2 cliff band to access the peninsula. A wee brush buffet of manzanita later and I was walkin' along soft sand and jagged rocks, the deep chasm of Behunin Canyon to my left, the seldom visited Gunsight Canyon to my right. 

Zion Canyon in miniature

Behunin Canyon to my left...

...Gunsight Canyon to my right

The crazy ramp up to Mt. Majestic, no thanks!

I followed ram tracks most of the way to the base of Gunsight, the route nice and open and sandy. I moseyed on over to the west side once I got to the base, mostly 'cause it seemed like the most agreeable way to go. I walked along the side for a brief moment until finding a loose and sandy route to the base of some easy class 3. There looked to be many possible routes to the top; being the lazy fool that I am, I chose the easiest lookin' one. Once past that, and I was nearly at the top, the views down into Behunin Canyon absolutely mind-numbing. 

Where I began the ascent

I went up the brush-filled crack in the center

Behunin Canyon...wow!

I busted through some minor brush to the unremarkable summit; the thing didn't have a single view, but that was okay. I continued off the highpoint to the south until the brush cleared, snapping a picture of Castle Dome and the East Temple in the distance. After that, I backtracked to the north and sat and looked at that crazy view into Behunin Canyon and beyond. Absolutely crazy. Could even make out the tippity-top of Angels Landing hiding amongst the remarkably precipitous, jaggy, irregular terrain. 

South

The Peaks of Phantom Valley, northwest

And then I checked my water supply and I went "yep" and I knew I'd run out at some point on the way back; it was just a matter of when. And so I got myself into ration mode and I said goodbye to Gunsight Point and retraced my steps and slid down the class 3 stuff, waltzed across the peninsula, busted' through the manzanita, and scampered up the class 2 cliff band back to the trail. 

Headin' back...

Class 2 cliff band; I went left

Back on the trail, I put my mind in cruise control and busted out the downhill, stopping in the shade only once for a brief snack of mixed nuts and a sip of warm water. Down, down, down, the trail blasted in the side of the cliff, huge switchbacks snaking their way off the rim through white sandstone and scraggily bushes. 

Back on trail, Gunsight Point center

A warm day, a cozy day, the air wrapped around my body like a snug, weighted blanket. Saw some more folks once I'd descended off the rim, sweaty folks, their skin glistening with moisture, their clothing damp and salty. And I caught up to the two clients I'd seen that morning; they'd passed me while I was out messin' around on Gunsight Point. "Ahh, hullo again!" they said. "Yup, hello again. Long time, no see." I nodded and passed them by and as soon as I did, they immediately resumed their middle school-esque conversations, their minds and spirits seemingly unaffected by the broiling temps. 

Started headin' up again, saw Majestic Spur and Little Majestic off to my right. Met my roommate on the way down to Scout's Lookout; didn't recognize me at first. "Yo, same hoody!" he said. "Whaddya mean same hoody? What you talkin' about?" "Oh wow, I didn't know it was you."

And we stopped and chatted a bit and I met his friend who had flown in from DC just last night and they were going up to Refrigerator Peak and I wished 'em luck and told 'em to stay hydrated and all that stuff and then blasted off to Scouts Lookout, heading towards the final side-trip for the day. 

Oh yeah. We all know what that is...

Met up with the Ranger. Showed him my permit. "Oh, you're from Tennessee yeah?" "Yup" "Whereabouts?" "Johnson City" "No way, I'm from Erwin." "No kiddin'." And then we proceeded to talk for a good five minutes about good ol' eastern Tennessee and the fall colors and the mountains and the green trees and the summer thunderstorms and all that good stuff and then the Ranger wished me well and I was on my way, sweat spilling over my brow, down my nose and instantly evaporating once it hit the hot, hot sandstone. 

I started off quick, and then my slightly dehydrated state said "nope" and I regressed to a snail's pace, a simple, unhurried, casual jaunt to the top of the 2nd most popular landmark in all of Zion National Park. Met some folks comin' down, all of them in good spirits but absolutely drenched in sweat. "Careful, chain's hot" one of 'em said. And hot it was. Scalding hot. Didn't touch no chain again after that. No siree. 

And I eventually reached the top and there were only six other people there, all of 'em young guys no older than 20. And I sat down and stared at the views and absorbed the heat and felt the blood pumping through my neck and thought of nothing, not a darned thing. Some of the young dudes complained of the heat. Others began having a heat-induced philosophical conversation about God and geology. The last guy, who wasn't saying anything, just stood around takin' polaroids and shakin' his head every time he looked at the finished product. Ahh...the woes of perfectionism....

I probably stayed for seven minutes, just long enough to guzzle down the last few drops of my water still lingering in my empty Nalgene. And then it was down the chains, back to the trail, zig-zaggin' through Walter's Wiggles, off and away into Refrigerator Canyon and beyond. Didn't see too many people makin' their way up the trail, probably because it was hot as balls outside but you never know. Maybe it was an off day or something. Who's to say?

Headin' back...

I reached the end of the trail. Hopped on the air-conditioned shuttle. Leaned back and enjoyed the ride. As soon as it stopped at the visitor center I went straight to the nearest fountain I could find, filled my bottle to the brim and drank the whole thing in one go. Yup. Two and a half liters was definitely not enough for the whole day but ehh, I made it work.