Last summer I conquered a fear that had plagued me all my life. It happened when I went to Utah with my family to visit Zion National Park. My family and I drove from San Francisco, CA to Springdale, Utah, a small quaint town. We arrived in the dead of the night. Everyone exhausted, we took refuge in our beds in the hotel room until daybreak.
The next morning, we headed out to Zion National Park and decided to hike the nearest mountain, Hidden Canyon. Prepared with hiking boots, hiking socks, a wicking technical shirt, and Camelbak packs filled with water we set out at dawn. On Hidden Canyon my family and I began up the path until it disappeared. We then started using the chains that were placed on the side of the mountain to propel us up further. As the temperature rose swiftly through the morning, taking no prisoners, my family and I were determined. Lathering on the sunscreen we continued on. As we hiked up the mountain, staying for awhile in shaded spots, we saw other families pass us by, heading in the opposite direction. Thinking to myself, I wish my family would follow suit. Instead,I fervently climbed the mountain with haste, thinking the sooner I reached the top of the mountain the sooner we’d descend. When I arrived at the top of the mountain I felt a wave of apprehension disappear.
The following day my family and I awoke at dawn ready to climb the tallest mountain in the park, Angels Landing. Upon arriving at Zion National Park I stood in trepidation and disbelief as I stared up at the looming mountain. We began up the trail and before long we were hugging the inside of the mountain as we ascended. Telling myself not to look down off the deep sharp cliff, and trying to remain optimistic, I clutched for another piece of the iron chain in the mountain. I had already climbed another mountain yesterday and made it to the top. Sooner than I thought we reached the top of Angels Landing, finally reaching the highest point in the park. I then realized I conquered my immense fear of heights that I had had while at Arcadia National Park in Maine three summers before.
At dawn the following day, my family and I again visited Zion National Park to travel The Narrows Canyon. This time we were prepared with special waterproof socks and boots, along with a walking stick. We ventured into the canyon with an eerie chill that was a welcome respite from the previous two days of debilitating heat. As we went further into the canyon, our walking sticks at hand, we walked around the flowing water. Carefully stepping from rock to rock, the water grew deeper. My legs were covered in water as I practically swam down the valley, flowing along in the water’s current. Fighting the current coming back proved harder then expected, but with caution and prudence we returned back to the start of the Narrows Canyon. With smiles upon our faces, we were eager for our next adventure.
When we left Zion National Park I not only left behind my summer vacation I left behind my fears as well. Looking back on my trip, I cannot believe that I was once so fearful of heights. I now know I can conquer my fears. Whatever the world throws in my way now, I know because I was as low as you can be and as high as you can be. I was on top of the world.
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