I could not wait for today! Waterfalls are my jam so when I happened upon the Kanarra Falls Trail doing research, I was all in. The hour drive from Zion was well worth it to hike through a slot canyon, in water, to two gorgeous waterfalls.
This permit-required hike allows only 150 people in per day, and I’m even questioning talking about it for fear of broader awareness. so long as Rick Steeves doesn’t talk about it, we’ll be fine. Kanarra Falls (which we ended up just calling kookaburra because Jenny couldn’t remember how to say it for the past five months), combined the best of The Narrows, what we had expected from Angels, and topped it off with brilliant fall color. A perfect day walking next to and in a stream (we’re old pros now), with some scrambling over rocks and up small hills (which was far more entertaining than the switchbacks of Angels.)
The fun got started quickly when Jenny high centered herself on a rock. Rather than being slow and methodical about making her way down a sandy slope, she let momentum take over until she was stopped by a boulder at the bottom of the hill in the middle of the stream. Game. On. It was made worse because she instantly despised the walking stick because this stream was nothing threatening and the stick only got in the way. Even though the rocks were tighter together, and there was no current to speak of, I was just fine granny-ing it along with the stick.
The walk to the a slot canyon was blissfully quiet. (Except for the mother and son who were blazing their way through and fighting the whole way.) The people we did meet were friendly and one asked if we were sisters. Flattering thanks, but I’m pretty sure asking that instead of “mother and daughter?” is in the the same category as NEVER asking someone if they’re pregnant.
You learn both those only once. I was in a grocery store once and ran into a friend of my dad’s. (Dad was 90 at the time.) I called dad’s friend by name, yet he was baffled by who I was…I was only slightly offended as it had been a hot second). I talked about the lunch he and dad had together, and was giving him a hard time for not knowing me. Then it hit me. It wasn’t MR. It was his son. Who was my age. I played it off as “I had the wrong guy” and slinked away. It wasn’t that he looked 90, it’s just that my brain is stuck at 32 when it comes to people age.
Anyway, my 32 year old brain and much older body crawled, scrambled, and used the sit on your butt technique to move down the canyon. And now we had wet rocks to contend with. The whole while, I had lost my presence and just kept thinking how much it would hurt to hit my head on one of those rocks after tumbling from one rock wedged between another rock and the canyon wall. Guaranteed, I’m working on my hip flexors when I get home.
By the time we’ve arrived at the first ladder, Jenny is fed up with the stick and I’ve arrived at Shangri-la. How people finds these things amazes me. And who comes and builds ladders is beyond me. But I’m glad they do!
On to the 2nd ladder which is either another mile down or 2.5 miles down …why would the blogs be clear? Much less satisfying as it was your standard issue Ace hardware rung ladder. I was looking forward to the rickety wooden ladder “as seen on TV.” No luck. Now, we’d been hearing about how the falls were pouring down the ladder. People weren’t going up, happy with seeing it (there’s not a lot more beyond the 2nd ladder.)
Now, this is where it’s a blessing and a curse to travel with a hair stylist. After looking like a dude for a day, I had said “straighten this shit!” the night before. I can’t compete with Jennifer Rabbit over here, but at least I can try to represent my gender. As we both looked at the ladder, we weighed the options. Adventure. Fuzzy hair. Memories. Finger in an electric socket. Just as we were about to turn away, pleased with our effort, a group on top of the second falls said “you can do it! It’s not slippery.” Aw hell no. We’re not afraid of this ladder! So with a little resignation and a hoodie, the ladder was conquered. Hair survived.
Here’s the question of the day. Kanarra Falls? No. But Ann does! I violated the cardinal rule of walking on rocks. Don’t get cocky. We were three quarters of the way back, I looked at a particular rock, thought “that looks slippery!” and promptly proceeded to step on it. Why not? Cocky. My boot had no sooner hit the rock than I was taking a slip and fall worthy of an ambulance chasing lawyer. Milliseconds. Down on my ass, head bangs against a tree branch, my arm breaking the fall. We come from a family that laughs first, checks for injuries later. (I can hear my sister laughing now.) It was an epic biff that produced a knot and a bruise immediately.
That’s not beautiful sandstone walls of Kanarra Falls, that’s my butt. It’s not an adventure until someone gets hurt. I was lucky. Sure. But it’s a whole lot more fun to breathe through it and make fun of myself for falling in the most innocuous spot after two days of sick hiking.
We finished the round trip in 4 hours, having stopped for lunch or snacks twice, screwing around, taking lots of pics, and recovering some dignity. Which is more than we can say for the hikers on the way in as we exited. I’m sure they had a lovely time in their tank tops and flip flops, and their lip gloss certainly looked perfect foe the Gram. Good on ya.
INJURY UPDATE: First biff. Bruised butt. Bruised left arm. Head is fine. On the outside.
Roam Free 