Father and son hit the trail at Zion National Park

ZION NATIONAL PARK — Peering down a cliff face at the valley floor several hundred feet below, I faltered and gulped. My son, Ian, probably fortified by the sense of immortality that often infects young men in their late teens, scrambled up the narrow trail like a mountain goat.

We'd already sloshed and waded through two remarkable slot canyons in Zion National Park, and in a few days would be about 160 miles away at Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, squeezing through two more that were so narrow my relaxed-fit waistline threatened to block our progress.

This was our last father-son vacation before Ian left for college, and he was calling the shots. We'd pinballed from one remarkable location to the next, across four states. But exploring southern Utah's canyons and gulches, carved into fantastic shapes and textures by wind and water over many millennia, was the highlight.

That involved a lot of climbing and hiking and being a human pack mule — payback, of sorts, for the many backpacking trips, euphemistically known by friends and family as "death marches," that Ian and his younger sister had endured throughout their childhood at my instigation.

Now Ian was setting the pace. His sister had declared a moratorium on such trips and stayed at home, muttering, I recall, something about running water and electricity and her father's unenviable ranking as the world's most embarrassing person to be seen with. And I was the one who sometimes struggled to keep up.

I was fine with that. Ian showed that he had become a confident young adult, willing to take risks, but also using good judgment. And since he would soon be leaving home, that was a comfort.

Climbing to the top of Angels Landing was probably our most breathtaking experience, both in terms of the views and the pucker factor.

The trail follows a series of switchbacks and then crosses a rugged spine of sandstone — with steep cliffs on either side — that thrusts out into Zion Canyon. It reportedly was named by an early visitor who observed that only an angel could land there.

On some of the more exposed portions (as in, a long way to fall), chains have been anchored into the stone so that climbers have a grip as they slowly ascend.

As you complete the climb, a panorama of Zion Canyon is revealed, almost as if you're suspended in air. Far below, the Virgin River snakes through the valley. Many of the park's landmarks, which tower over visitors on the canyon floor, are at eye-level.