Walter’s Stupid Wiggles

My older sister, Emily, and I were making the aggressive climb up the portion of the Angel’s Landing trail notoriously known as Walter’s Wiggles. It was the middle of the afternoon at Zion National Park during late March, the beginning of peak season, and this hell-ish portion of the hike consisted of 21 consecutive switchbacks. Walter’s Wiggles basically looked like an incredibly steep and narrow zigzag carved into the face of a cliff with no stretches of flat trail. 

I was trying to catch my breath when I turned around to check on Emily. She wasn’t far behind, but her face was bright red, and she was gasping for air like she just sprinted a marathon. My sister played college softball as a catcher, and I played college baseball as a pitcher. So, given our history of athleticism we falsely believed that any of these hikes should be pretty easy for us. 

“Hey, I need to take another break,” she said.  

We made our way to a curve where the trail was wider so we could rest without getting in everyone’s way, when we ran into a man. He seemed to be about the same age as our dad, so maybe 60-ish. He was on the way down the trail and clearly following behind the rest of his group by a large margin. 

He looks at my sister and me as we were trying to recover and says, “Y’all are so close, this is by far the worst part of the hike. You just have to make it around that corner up there and the rest is easy. Trust me, I was dying at this same spot on the way up, but I’m good now.”

Without saying a word, Emily and I knew that we could push ourselves up that last stretch of trail and started hiking with a newfound pep in our step. 

My sister and I were never all that close growing up. She is the oldest and I am the youngest. So, our interests never really aligned because of our 4 and half year age gap. Even though we played similar sports, we never took the opportunity to spend time together. I easily could have used her as a catcher during my pitching practices, but she was always too busy, and I never asked. However, it’s not like we bickered or butted heads either, we were just neutral to each other. 

It wasn’t until the Covid shutdowns when she was forced to come back home during college that allowed our relationship to became really close. At the time, I was a junior in high school and having a full house once again was exciting. But, having everyone back home also felt a little crammed. In order to get out of the house and give us something to do we began taking walks around our neighborhood. It was never exclusively just us, sometimes our parents would join and even our middle-child brother on the rare occasion too. But the two of us, we would never miss our daily walks. On these walks we would talk about everything, and often times feel like we were solving all of the world’s problems, as we used to say. Topics would range from deep conversations about our faith as Catholics, struggles with our mental health during the shutdowns, or quietly gossiping about a family whose house we just walked past. I can’t exactly recall any specific conversations that brought us closer together, but I think it was just the repetitive time spent together without out phones and freely being ourselves that allowed each other to connect on a deeper level.

Emily and I finally made it past Walter’s Wiggles, and instead of hiking on the face of the cliff we were now walking through a narrow crevice that took us around the back and on top of the canyon. This part of the trail was really cool; it felt almost like we were in a cave within the wall of the canyon. Trees, grown tall enough to escape the shaded patch of soil it grew from and striped walls that were smoothed out by previous water erosion surrounded us like we were in another world. The trail had finally leveled out and we were ready for an easy stroll to the end where the epic view of Angel’s Landing was waiting for us. Our excitement was really starting to grow. 

“Bro, I can’t wait to get to the top and sit there with our snacks and just peacefully enjoy the view,” I said. 

“I know right, these snacks are going to hit different after climbing Walter’s Wiggles. That is probably one of the hardest things I have done in a while,” my sister replied. 

“Good for you, you got through the hardest part of this hike. Now we just get to enjoy the views without needing stop every 5 minutes to catch our breath.” 

But when we made our way around another corner, we were immediately faced with an even steeper and more narrow set of switchbacks. 

Staring straight up at this monster my sister said, “No way that man lied to us.”  

Since the Covid shutdowns, Emily and I have gone on to live our own lives. She now lives in Dallas and works full-time as a registered dietitian at the county hospital, and I am about to start medical school in Lubbock after doing my undergrad there. There’s no doubt in my mind that the reason we love hiking so much is because it takes us back to the one positive thing that came from the Covid pandemic. Walks are our thing, so hiking is a special treat for us. Something about being away from the boring suburb scene we grew up in, and standing on top of a mountain or canyon makes us feel alive in a different way. And I say we, as if I speak for my sister, because we undeniably feed off of each other’s energy. There’s no way she doesn’t feel the something similar to the level of excitement I get. The best way I can describe this feeling is like a dog sprinting in circles around the backyard after it snowed the night before. 

But living busy lives in different cities makes it rather challenging to share one of our favorite activities together. Which is why we planned this trip in the first place. My sister had just turned 26 and I was about to turn 22, so not only did we feel like it was time to take a trip on our own without any parents, but earlier that year we learned how much we love National Parks after a family road trip that stopped in Sequoia National Park. Using a series of spreadsheets and extensive research, my sister and I did everything we could to make this trip to Zion as epic and affordable as possible. 

Staring up this intimidatingly steep path ahead of us, I realized that we were horribly mistaken by what Walter’s Wiggles were. 

“I thought we already did Walter’s stupid Wiggles,” my sister said. 

“Yeah, no. This, this is definitely Walter’s Wiggles. Whatever we did before was just a warmup or something. That dude lied straight to our faces,” I replied. 

Since there were no stretches of flat trial, we had to take several breaks on the way up, making sure to complain about the liar every chance we had.

“I hope his dinner doesn’t taste good tonight,” my sister said. [Which was a pretty severe comment coming from her since she’s the kind of person who is too nice to actually wish anything bad on someone.]

But by the time we finally reached the top, we immediately forgot about the betrayal we felt from this stranger as we became obsessed over the exhilarating view.

This trip was a much-needed escape from the challenges and responsibilities of our everyday lives. About once every week, or so, my sister will call me on her way home from work to chat about her day and complain about how bad the U.S. healthcare system is. On a good day, she will tell me about the concert she went to the other night with her friends. On Emily’s days off, I will often call her to share about whatever is going on in my life, but I usually end up complaining about my future in-laws. Even with a 300-mile separation, we still find ways to solve all of the world’s problems together.  

Sitting on top of the cliff, enjoying our applesauce packs and protein bars, we overlooked the entire Zion Canyon. To our left, a steep drop-off revealed the Virgin River snaking through the canyon, tracing its path toward the narrowest portion of the park. Straight ahead stood the majestic Angel’s Landing—a narrow strip of land with sheer drop-offs on both sides, leading to a peak so high and narrow it seemed only an angel could land on it. To our right, the canyon opened below us into a grassy meadow, flanked by massive canyon peaks on either side, forming the shape of a wide bowl. From this viewpoint, the distinct red and white layers of the canyon walls were easier to notice, rising all the way to the top where a light dusting of snow laid.

“Emily look, that’s where we started. Can you believe we climbed all of that elevation?”

She replied, “I’m so proud us, and not going to lie, I definitely doubted that I was going to make it.”

A few moments passed with silence, but Emily broke it saying, “We really took our Covid walks to a whole other level.”

***

***

The ManifestStation publishes content on various social media platforms many have sworn off. We do so for one reason: our understanding of the power of words. Our content is about what it means to be human, to be flawed, to be empathetic. In refusing to silence our writers on any platform, we also refuse to give in to those who would create an echo chamber of division, derision, and hate. Continue to follow us where you feel most comfortable, and we will continue to put the writing we believe in into the world. 

***

Our friends at Corporeal Writing are reinventing the writing workshop one body at a time.

Check out their current online labs, and tell them we sent you!

***

Inaction is not an option,
Silence is not a response

Check out our Resources and Readings