Not wanting to start the day cold and remembering that the river had gotten progressively deeper the day before, I put my superhot (literally and figuratively) drysuit with funny rubber gaskets on over my mostly nylon-spandex hiking clothes and cinched up my pack. The drysuits soon proved too hot to wear in the bright morning sun. Jeff took his off and I did an unsexy number with the top half tied around my waist. We crossed the river in thigh-deep sections with greater and greater frequency. I watched worriedly as Jeff never lost his goosebumps before the next crossing and he started getting pale. We stopped in the sun to eat some GORP and get jeff into his drysuit/full body windbreaker so that he would stop shivering and his lips would lose the blue tinge. I'm glad we did because we then had this 6+ foot deep crossing.
We noticed increasing numbers of people making their way up the river as we made our way down. (You can hike bottom-up as a loop without a permit as a dayhike). When we started seeing less-than-superfit individuals in their 60s, people in jeans or sundresses wading in the water, we knew we were almost to the bottom. As we walked up the paved scenicway to the trolley station, tourists stared in awe at our ultramarine suits and our packs as if we were astronauts returning from a deep space mission. Several made odd comments to themselves aloud as if they thought we were in an impermeable bubble. Sound may have gotten through, but I did feel worlds apart from the RV tour crowd after completing our backcountry hike.
The name "Narrows" seems like the canyon is really small. It is not.
We spent the night at a campground outside the park on the way to our next destination. (Most private campgrounds charge $10 to $20 a night for tent camping vs. $0 to $10 for a backcountry permit for 2 people for various lengths of time.) Our dinner that night was a dehydrated soup mix swiped from Jeff's parents.
- backcountry permit (for top-down hiking only in order to camp roughly halfway down.
- Sturdy hiking pole or stick, at least 5' for testing pool depth and sturdying yourself on rocks in the current. The river moves quite forcefully.
- Wetsuit or drysuit, check with ranger beforehand to determine if necessary. Early in the season, the snowmelt makes it very cold. These can be rented at Zion Adventure Sports outside the south entrance of the park.
- Neoprene booties/rock guards. Jeff's dad is big on flyfishing and we borrowed these from his equipment stockpile. While not entirely necessary, they did make the trek much more enjoyable.
- Waterproof stuff sacks. I am fortunate enough to have a completely waterproof pack--purchased in part because we knew we were going to do some canyoneering and would need to float our packs. It is the most wonderful piece of equipment. If that's not for you, definitely get some waterproof stuff sacks because your pack will get very wet and a dripping sleeping bag is pure misery.
- Human waste bags. These are issued by the backcountry ranger when you get your permit. Since there is no place in the canyon where you could dig a cat hole far enough away from the river, and even if there was such a place there would only be one and it would be like a minefield, they ask that you minimize your impact by carrying it out. The double lined bag is opaque, comes with toilet paper, a moist towelette and a packet of enzymes akin to kitty litter which made it very hygienic and in fact more pleasant than the alternative. Packing out your poo is a hard concept for many to wrap their heads around--we saw partially buried bags, negating the purpose and exacerbating the problem--but in general I think people need to get over themselves and their personal hangups and consider what the implications of their small actions have on the environment. I was certainly squeamish when we started out, but it is positively liberating to know that you have visited a beautiful place without harming it.
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