On a scenic trip to Zion National Park, our bus pulled over at a postcard-worthy overlook—you know, the kind of place where everyone instinctively points their phones the same direction and gasps in unison. While the rest of the group was oohing and aahing at the classic canyon view, I, ever the contrarian (or maybe just easily distracted), turned around and looked the other way.
There it was. A monstrous sheer cliff towering hundreds of feet above the canyon floor. It looked like the kind of place where gravity gets its revenge. I figured it was worth a photo, even though the sun was doing its best to ruin the shot. No worries—our motorcoach’s shadow made the perfect anti-glare filter. Nature photography hack: use your bus.
As I lined up my shot, something caught my eye. A flicker of color on the rock face. At first I thought maybe it was some paint, or lichen. But something didn’t look right. My 200mm lens gave me curiosity, but not clarity, so I did what any good amateur would do—I took the picture and then zoomed in for a closer look.
And that’s when I saw them.
Two tiny human beings—clinging to a vertical wall like gravity-defying spiders. Rock climbers. Descending. On purpose.
Now, I’ve seen impressive things in my life, but this was next-level bananas. There they were, calmly rappelling down what I consider a perfectly good “do-not-climb-this” surface. I couldn’t look away. I mean, the skill, the strength, the preparation! And above all, the trust—trust in your gear, your training, and that your morning coffee hasn’t worn off mid-cliff.
Let me be clear: I was once adventurous too. Back in the day, I thought nothing of launching 20 feet into the air on a motocross bike, or scaling trees with a chainsaw like a lumberjack on Red Bull. I once skied full speed into a beach, somersaulted out of my skis, and landed upright like a caffeinated ninja. But now? Now my idea of adrenaline is taking a different route home from the grocery store.
So no, I won’t be donning a harness anytime soon. But hats off—helmets on—to the two daredevils who made our whole group stare in awe. They reminded us that some people still chase cliffs instead of comfort, and for a brief moment, from the safety of our overlook, we all got to feel just a little braver.
And I got the photo to prove it.
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