Protective. Whenever I go hiking with people who don't have a lot of experience, or otherwise might not be up to the task, I tend to get very protective of them, constantly asking if they're ok, if they're drinking water, if we need to rest, ect. This July my family and I went hiking in the Fiery Furnace section of Arches National Park in Utah and I found myself being very protective of my parents, especially my mom. We started early enough in the morning but it was still hot in the sun, and I was afraid they didn't bring enough water. I carried five liters of water on me, for a short dayhike that I knew we could finish in a few hours...What can I say, I was concerned! I know my parents have hiking experience; they're the ones who taught me to that hiking is awesome in the first place! But it's been a while since either of them has hiked over rough terrain, and I'm not sure when the last time they hiked over three miles was. Plus, my mom has a serious fear of heights. Like, more than a two foot drop and she has concerns over it.
The Fiery Furnace is a concentration of thin sandstone fins running parallel to each other, with the cracks between each fin (known as "joints") anywhere from several yards across to only a few feet wide. Oh, and there are no marked trails. After watching a safety video that explains a person should only ever walk on solid sandstone or in dry washes, which any desert hiker should know, the rangers at Arches sell you a permit for hiking alone in the Furnace, and tell you to be careful. On the day your permit is effective, you're set loose in the sandstone maze for as long as you like, or as long as it takes you to get lost and unlost again. It is an incredible place, kept as pristine as any backcountry area because they only allow a few people per day into the Furnace. You might run into other hikers, but if you do, you're likely not headed in the same direction and after a few turns, you never even hear each other again. Did I mention there are no marked trails? You can sign up for a ranger-guided trail with someone who knows the Furnace very well and will take you to places you probably won't find on your own, but doing that means you're in a group with fifteen other people, and you go at the group pace. You already know we chose to go it on our own.
That being said, it wasn't an easy hike. It started off with seeing a giant scorpion, the first time I've ever seen a live scorpion in the wild, and let me tell you right now that seeing it didn't exactly make my mom happy about being on the trail. After we got over oggling it, my sister led us to the best of her knowledge on sort of the reverse of the ranger-guided hike, taking us to hidden arches and to sandstone fins and joints that had us balancing over a drop-off and squeezing our hands and feet against the opposite wall to make it through. If I'd been alone, I would have thought it was absolutely amazing. With my parents, however, I was always watching them, looking for the easiest way to whatever destination my sister waited at. Lisha would just go on ahead, and I felt like she never stopped to think about what Dad, and especially Mom, could do, or whether Mom would have problems with the drop-offs and ledges that we crossed. My brother and I held Mom's hands on more than one occasion while we kept up a stream of encouragment as we navigated steep stone stairs chisled into a sandstone fin or walked along the edge of a cliff that dropped into a small box canyon with no way out. Every time she said she couldn't do it, that she was done and wanted to go back, we told her she could do it, to look at what she'd already done, and that we'd be there right next to her as she did tried it and succeeded.
Many times, more often than I would have if I'd been alone, we stopped in the shade for a rest and water. And you know what? That's fine. A hiking party is only as good as the least experienced, and if that means slowing down and resting a lot then so be it. Better to take it easy than to push too hard or too fast and end up with someone hurt. A hike is no fun if nobody is enjoying it.
Four miles in the gorgeous Fiery Furnace took us right around four or so hours to accomplish, especially since we hiked the last part with the sun right above us, chasing all of the cooling shade into only the most secluded parts of the Furnace. We were all hot, tired and cranky by the time we climbed up a wash and out of the fins, and eventually Alisha and Austin left Mom, Dad and I behind as they chose to climb a steeper part and we hiked up the path of least resistance. Meeting back up at the top, Mom made it clear that this was likely the last hike she'll ever go on. That makes me a little sad, but I understand. She wasn't prepared for the heat and the moderately strenuous hiking that we did, including climbing and jumping over deep cracks in the sandstone. She also has her fear of heights, which has only intensified with every year. And yet, I'm cautiously hopefull that I can convince her to go on a short hike with me someday, if I swear to her that it will be extremely short and very easy. And you'd better believe that I'll be just as protective of her on that trip as well.
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