Ostomy Memories of Zion

Because my plan was to make the 22-minute drive that morning from my home north of Kanab, Utah, to the east gate into Zion National Park, I avoided cereal. With the ileostomy, milk products sluice through my altered plumbing like fat through a goose. I opted for nice, thick oatmeal, laced up my winter snow boots, and headed out. It had snowed the afternoon before, but the large, speedy snow plows in the county had cleared the roads. Care was still important, as slick road ice can produce dangerous results. Zion can be crowded during the rest of the year, but in the winter I often would have it to myself. I picked a spot where I had hiked before, so that I was familiar with the lay of the land which, that day, was under a couple of feet of snow. The juniper limbs were heavy with the recent snowfall but the sun would be out soon and by afternoon it would be mostly melted off. I headed out toward a point where I could climb gradually and park my carcass where I would be able to look out over a wide V-shaped area rising into a striated sandstone wall that ran the length of the short valley. Zion’s sandstone masses are gorgeous at any time of year, but in winter the snow along their ledges adds a whole new dimension of beauty. Finding a flat rock from which I brushed the snow, I made myself at home and lit a tasty dirt torpedo from Drew Estate (it may sound awful, but it’s a mild, sweet cigar). After contemplating eternity for about forty-five minutes, I started back down the long slope, following my earlier boot prints in the snow. The sun had lit up the west wall of stone and its glow had started to move slowly downward as it rose higher over the east rise. There was a thermos of hot coffee waiting for me in my truck after I tossed my hiking pole in the back and shed my jacket. A winter hike in Zion, with the cold smell and the crisp air, serene and lacking the usual tourist crowd, is a cure for anything.

Sounds like a great adventure, thanks for sharing. Best wishes and stay safe.

Congratulations on another spellbinding account of your enviable activities. I almost felt I was there enjoying it with you.

Best wishes

Bill

Hi all, yes, there's nothing like a serene walk in the woods during winter time or a hike like you do, Henry. I get cabin fever and get tired of hearing the furnace running, so I go find an old logging road, strap on my snowshoes, and go hiking. I love listening to the chickadees sing their song and the peacefulness.

Henry,
Brrrrt! I felt cold just reading this! With the southern heat, I needed that! I sure miss the snow! But I am a beach girl so have never been much of a mountain or hiking person. Apparently, I have missed a lot!
Thanks for sharing this wonderful story!

puppyluv

Stories of Living Life to the Fullest from Ostomy Advocates I Hollister

Ya know Henry, I think I would've loved doing exactly what you did.  Well, maybe not the oatmeal, but especially contemplating eternity.  Unfortunately I wouldn't have been able to share it so eloquently.  Fortunately for all of us, you did.

Thank you,

Mike

It sure is. I love Utah. Lived there years ago. Had my daughter there. Beautiful place, beautiful people.

I lived in rural south central Utah, and would still be there, but for health reasons felt that I had to return to "civilization."