Hiking The Narrows at Zion National Park in September

The afternoon sun hung high over Zion Canyon when I stepped into the Virgin River, ready to hike The Narrows. It was September 2020 — the year everything felt uncertain, when travel was quieter, slower, and somehow more meaningful. National parks had only recently reopened, and there was a stillness to Zion I hadn’t felt before.

The morning crowds were gone, leaving only the echo of the river and the rustle of wind through cottonwoods. Golden light poured into the canyon, and I felt a strange mix of gratitude and restlessness — the need to move, to breathe, to find beauty again after months of confinement.

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Stepping into the River

The paved Riverside Walk ended, and there it was — the mouth of the Narrows. The sound of the river filled the air like a heartbeat echoing off the stone. I tightened the straps on my pack, gripped my wooden walking stick, and stepped in. The first shock of cool water around my ankles jolted me fully awake. Within moments, I was knee-deep, balancing carefully against the push of the current.

The riverbed shifted under every step — slick stones and sudden dips that kept me focused. Afternoon sunlight bounced between the canyon walls, turning them gold and amber. The deeper I waded, the more I felt wrapped inside the canyon’s embrace — its sheer cliffs rising hundreds of feet overhead, its silence broken only by the swirl of water and the distant call of a canyon wren.

The Light of September

There’s something remarkable about the afternoon light in September. It paints the canyon in shifting tones — from soft peach to molten orange to deep rust — and reflects off the river like scattered fire. The water shimmered beneath my boots, and the air carried that faint coolness that hinted fall was near.

I stopped often to photograph, setting up my tripod in the middle of the current. The play of light on the sandstone made every composition feel alive. In places where the canyon walls tightened, the reflected light made the water glow an otherworldly blue-green.

This was Zion at its finest — dramatic, humbling, and endlessly photogenic.

Into the Heart of The Narrows

The deeper I went, the quieter it became. The walls grew higher, the river narrowed, and the light thinned into ribbons of gold that slipped between shadows. Each bend felt like discovering another secret world.

The water rose past my knees, tugging at my legs as I leaned into my walking stick for balance. Every sound echoed — my boots splashing, pebbles tumbling underfoot, the rhythmic pulse of the river. I passed through a section where ferns clung to dripping walls and tiny waterfalls trickled into the river, adding a soft music to the canyon’s song.

When I reached the stretch known as Wall Street, I stopped cold. The canyon closed in dramatically, and sunlight no longer touched the ground. The walls towered so high that it felt like walking through a natural cathedral. I stood there, water swirling around my calves, camera in hand, surrounded by silence and shadow.

I could have stayed there for hours — but the sun was beginning to drop behind the cliffs, and time was no longer a luxury.

The Race Against the Canyon

The late afternoon light faded faster than I expected. The golden glow turned soft, then cool. Shadows deepened, and the canyon took on a quiet, almost secretive mood. I glanced at my watch — enough time, but not much.

Turning back downstream, I moved faster, letting the current help me. The river felt different now — familiar, but darker and livelier as if it knew I was racing daylight. Each bend looked new in reverse, the shifting light revealing details I’d missed on the way in.

I passed other hikers making their way out, their voices echoing faintly through the canyon. Everyone seemed to share that same quiet urgency — the unspoken rule that you don’t miss the last shuttle.

By the time I reached the mouth of the river, the air had cooled noticeably. The canyon walls were painted in the soft lavender hues of evening. I stepped out of the water and onto dry ground, feeling the weight of the day in my legs. My boots were soaked, my clothes splattered with sand, and my camera was full of memories — exactly how a day in Zion should end.

I made it to the shuttle stop just as the final bus pulled in, the headlights cutting through the twilight. I sank into my seat, wet and smiling, watching the canyon slip by through the window as the last light faded from the cliffs.

Reflections

Hiking The Narrows in 2020 was different. The park was quieter, the air somehow clearer, and every sound more pronounced — the rush of water, the hum of wind, the echo of your own heartbeat against the walls. It was a reminder that nature endures, even when everything else feels fragile.

The Narrows has always been about surrendering — to the current, to the moment, to the unknown. But that year, it felt like more than a hike. It was a kind of healing.

I left Zion with soaked boots, tired legs, and a calm I hadn’t felt in months. Even now, when I think of that afternoon — the canyon glowing in golden light, the river tugging gently at my feet — I can still hear it: the steady, eternal sound of the Virgin River carrying on, just as it always has.

If morning is for exploration, afternoon in The Narrows is for reverence. It’s for watching the sun disappear behind sandstone spires and realizing how small you are beneath them.

By the time I left Zion that night, I understood why this place stays with people. You don’t just walk The Narrows — you flow through it, and part of you stays in that river long after you’ve gone.

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Photography Tips for an Afternoon Hike

• Aim for mid- to late-afternoon light for that warm glow on the canyon walls.

• Carry a tripod, but keep your shutter speed above 1/4 second to avoid blur if the current is strong.  Use an ND filter for longer shutter speeds.

• Use a polarizer to deepen reflections on the water.

• Plan your turnaround time carefully — it’s easy to lose track of time in the canyon’s beauty.

• Bring a headlamp just in case you cut it close.