Weaseling out of things is important to learn. It’s what separates us from the animals…except the weasel

Surely there can’t be that many non-sunsets in a row? Yep, surely there can. Woke up at some hideous time of morning – in part inspired by Chris West’s photography (damn you, Chris!) -  loaded up the car, and drove out to Zion in somewhat brisk darkness to the Towers of the Patriarchs.

I headed up into the hills in near complete darkness, wondering fleetingly what animals were out there with me – deer or wild turkeys most likely, rather than the more elusive mountain lions or bears. Regardless, if I’d heard a noise in the bushes behind me I’d have been out of there. Trudging along, tripod banging against my legs, gear strung around my neck, I finally found what looked like a pretty promising spot about 100m up and started setting up, only to realize I’d left the camera mount for the tripod. Without much choice in the matter I went back down and up as fast as possible to not miss any blazingly glorious sunrise, only to discover yet again that mother nature failed to play ball. No magnificent blue light (see Wankers, Photo) – in fact no light at all other than a now typical watery greyness slowly building in intensity from insipid to spectacularly uneventful. Another morning of lost sleep, for nothing.

With the wise words of Homer J Simpson in my head (see title), I surrendered – yet again – and decided I wouldn’t waste my time again, at least not on tomorrow’s last morning at Zion. I headed back to the hotel, picked up everyone, and we hit Zion in what, thankfully, turned out to be sensational walking weather, even if it was lousy photographic weather.

A morning spent doing the Riverside Walk at the end of the road into Zion yielded brief but rewarding sightings of a squirrel and deer for the kids, then headed to Weeping Rock – it’s a spectacular sight, and arguably offers one of the best views of the valley. After a brief clamber up a steep path you end up either in a cliff cave, or under an overhanging cliff (depending on your viewpoint), constantly dripping, and with access almost completely behind the waterfall. Along the way are endless interpretive boards explaining all the different plants, which Elise insisted on me going through one by one.

Deciding to make a quieter day of things given the breakneck pace of the past couple of weeks, we had lunch back at the hotel, then drove once again back out of the tunnel to do the Canyon Overlook walk, a 1 mile walk along a rough stone and step path wrapped partially along the side of cliffs (where we finally got to see, and photograph, Big Horn sheep for the first time), then for the last third or so out over the plateau, ending in a sensational view right the way down the valley and over the tunnel access road. The hazy conditions didn’t matter one bit, but my time was spent worrying about what the kids were doing on a largely unfenced cliff-face, as well as shaking my head in disbelief at the halfwits attempting to balance on precipitous drops in strong winds for photo opportunities, without any apparent care, regard for their own well being, or utilization of any brain-cells. The sheer number of morons out there fascinates me, with the only thing more fascinating being that the vast majority don’t manage to kill themselves. It’s not for lack of trying. Perhaps they’re so dense they can’t even manage that successfully.

At Jackson’s insistence, we rounded out the day at a Mexican restaurant where a huge margarita (followed by a scotch or two in the hotel room afterward) helped put the morning’s complete waste of time in perspective.

I won’t be getting up early tomorrow though. Knowing my luck, it’ll be a sensational sunrise.