My wife and I just returned from southern Utah, arguably the most beautiful place in the country for trails, rocks, canyons and desert solitude. True, you might instead be lobbying for Arizona’s Grand Canyon, or Zion’s UT neighbor to the east, Bryce NP. But for my money there’s nothing quite as grand as Zion National Park. Exactly what comprises that splendor for each fan is a bit of a mystery (as all good mysteries are), but for me there’s just something about a park that grants names to its key landmarks like “The Throne,” “The Pulpit,” the “Court of the Patriarchs” and the Virgin River…all leading to “The Temple of Sinawava” at the river bend where canyon meets valley – that is, if you’re heading in the  “Narrow” direction of course. There’s something to the convergence of rock, desert, water and symbol that make Zion both larger than life and small enough to get to know, year after year, visit after visit. Like an old friend, Zion offers consistency, depth, character and something wonderful. Every time.

Not unlike many of Zion’s friends, I have been there several times. Seven, in fact, since Zion first introduced me to the 58 national parks in 1999 (there were fewer than 58 back then). On first returning to Zion, I was content hiking the same trails I had many times before: classics like Angel’s Landing and Observation Point, along with a few lesser-knowns like Hidden Canyon or the more tame Emerald Pools.

At some point, however, I turned some anonymous corner with Zion and began considering this place a friend and not merely an acquaintance. Like our friend-ly human counterparts, we often recycle conversations about the weather or sports, for example, day after day with the same guy who works at the corner deli or the gal who runs the coffee shop down the street. But we know that if we really want to make friends with a stranger, we must brave a different topic the next time, linger a little longer, ask a more leading question (or provide a more personal answer.)

Such is the way of “knowing” a place. Venturing a little more into the “back country,” as the rangers will tell you, is really the way to go when you’re ready. Establishing real relationship with a place is no different than a person and transpires beyond the “front country” of well-brochured vistas and well-marked day trails and topics in favor of longer, more demanding routes and routines. Trails where your extra food, packs and gear will take you, and where preparation is key to your livelihood, spirit and endowed sense of adventure. This is a place where today’s water might have been found at the comfort of the visitor center, but tomorrow’s likely will not.

The hike of relationship means going out of your way to understand the park at the spots where the sidewalk ends, and then going further. Zion holds a few trails that will teach you that chance, to get lost, but not really. To be in a place that’s plenty big, but not overwhelmingly so.

Any of us who’ve been overcome at the size of a place, personality or subject matter can certainly relate. The other day I talked to a person who felt so out of sorts at a place of worship because they didn’t “know the Bible like everyone else.” They thought because they didn’t “know how to quote verses” that they might somehow not belong. Listening sadly, I imagined the lives of the many hikers through scripture who feel they have to be extra savvy to a holy book in order to be a believer. I could think of nothing so uninviting and unthrilling spiritually than to be shunned as a seeking day-hiker by those who might pretend that only “thru-hikers” possess the keys to the kingdom. That’s not a park I’d like to visit.

You might guess from my last few posts that I’ve spent some time thinking about what it means to be a thru-hiker through life, and the value of being a good section-hiker also. At that intersection, great things do happen, and lasting relationships. So here’s one of the best things about Zion: It’s the ultimate park for section hikers and thru-hikers to co-exist. Yes, I know there’s no mammoth trail that starts hundreds of miles on either side of this park. There are no multi-thousand-mile treks that cut through ZNP on their way to somewhere else, offering some huge feeling of accomplishment like conquering the AT or other famous through-hike. But there truly is a hike for everyone. Zion meets you where you are, and invites you to traverse its sections at your own pace. You can join world-class climbers, hike a mountain or “Pa’rus” a flat trail, or simply take a seat on the scenic shuttle with an old-timer.

In my recent journey to Zion, I went to the river’s edge and drew upon a new verse from the psalmist:

¹ Happy are those
who do not follow the advice of the wicked,
or take the path that sinners tread,
or sit in the seat of scoffers;
² but their delight is in the law of the Lord,
and on his law they meditate day and night.
³ They are like trees
planted by streams of water,
which yield their fruit in its season,
and their leaves do not wither.
In all that they do, they prosper. (Psalm 1:1-3, NRSV)

For those who really want to dig underneath Zion’s verses a bit and go further, there’s a 48-mile, multi-day trek from corner to corner (and “rim to rim”.) Check it out, all you seekers and budding Zion scholars. Something new is always around the corner, if the extra mile is what you’re looking for.