I had seen Zion National Park splashed across Instagram and glossy adventure magazines for years. The soaring red canyon walls and daring cliffside trails were on every “must-do” list.
As an avid hiker, I finally made the pilgrimage to Zion with sky-high expectations and a healthy dose of skepticism. Could any park really live up to that much hype?
Stepping off the shuttle bus on a bright morning, I was immediately struck by two things: the awe-inspiring beauty of the towering sandstone cliffs, and the sheer number of people everywhere.
Zion isn’t a secret gem; it’s one of the most visited national parks in the U.S., drawing around 4.5 to 5 million visitors annually in recent years. Social media has only amplified its fame. National parks across the country, Zion included, have seen a tourism explosion thanks to Instagram geotags and viral photos.
My honest review will chronicle the highs, lows, and surprises of my Zion adventure, from iconic hikes like Angels Landing and The Narrows to the realities of shuttle buses and seasonal crowds.
Here’s what I discovered about whether Zion truly earns its superstar status.
Angels Landing: Thrills, Chills, and Conga Lines on the Cliffs
Angels Landing is the marquee hike of Zion – a trail notorious for its steep drop-offs and the single chain bolted into rock that hikers cling to for the final half-mile. Securing a permit (a requirement since 2022) for this hike was our first challenge.
We entered the seasonal lottery months in advance, knowing that on busy days before the permit system, as many as 1,200 people a day attempted Angels Landing.
The park instituted the permit cap to cut that number down to a “mere” ~800 hikers spread through the day – still plenty of company on a knife-edge ridge. With permit in hand, we started at dawn to beat the heat and crowds.
The first two miles zigzagged up Walter’s Wiggles (21 tight switchbacks) and brought us to Scout Lookout, where the real adventure begins: the infamous chains section.
Even at 7:00 am, there was a conga line of hikers ahead of us clipping onto the chain. The most infamous part of Angels Landing is indeed this chains ascent – a narrow ridge with 1,000-foot drop-offs on either side. As I grabbed the cold metal links (gloves recommended on frosty mornings), my heart pounded.
Not just from fear of heights, but from the stop-and-go traffic. We often had to pause and wait for groups ahead to navigate a particularly tight spot. I reminded myself to “take your time and be patient with slower hikers” – advice straight from the park rangers.
At times, I had to press my back against the rock to let faster hikers return from the summit, since many spots are one-way-at-a-time only. This definitely wasn’t the solitary wilderness experience I’d imagined from glossy photos; it felt more like a surreal vertical queue. One fellow hiker joked that Angels Landing should have a sign at the bottom: “Patience Required: Bottleneck Ahead.”
Yet despite the crowding, I have to admit the adrenaline and scenery were phenomenal. When we finally pulled ourselves up that last section, the ridge opened onto a flat summit perch with a breathtaking 360° view.
The sun had fully risen, flooding Zion Canyon with golden light. I looked down to see the Virgin River winding like a ribbon through the valley floor, nearly 1,500 feet below. Across the way, I could spot the thin line of the trail to Observation Point (more on that later).
For a moment, I tuned out the chatter of other hikers celebrating their conquest and just absorbed the panorama. It was one of those rare times a view genuinely exceeded the Instagram hype – the kind of sweeping grandeur that photos rarely capture.
Of course, sharing that summit with about two dozen others was a bit anticlimactic. We all took turns snapping the obligatory triumphant poses (trying to crop out strangers in our photos).
I overheard one hiker remark that without the new permit system, this ledge used to be “people crawling all over each other,” sometimes with hour-long traffic jams on the chains. Yikes. I was grateful the park is addressing the issue, because even with a modest crowd, it felt bordering on chaotic.
Angels Landing tested my nerves not only from the heights, but from the constant negotiation with other people on a very narrow path. Was it worth it? For me – a reasonably fit, thrill-seeking hiker – yes, but just barely.
The view and sense of accomplishment were thrilling, yet the experience was undeniably tempered by the Disneyland-in-nature vibe. If you’re not up for heights or hate waiting your turn on a cliff, you might find Angels Landing more hassle than it’s worth.
The Narrows
After coming down from Angels Landing (literally and figuratively), we set our sights on Zion’s other superstar: The Narrows. This isn’t a trail in the normal sense – it’s a hike up the Virgin River, through the narrowest section of Zion Canyon where towering walls squeeze the river into a stone corridor.
I’d seen countless photos of hikers waist-deep in water between glowing red-orange canyon walls, and it looked like a dream. The question was whether reality would measure up, especially given The Narrows’ popularity as Zion’s “main attraction” for many visitors.
Our Narrows day began early. We caught one of the first shuttles to the Temple of Sinawava (the final stop, where the river hike begins) to beat the mid-morning rush. Even so, a decent crowd of fellow adventurers with water shoes and walking sticks poured out with us.
The first mile is the paved Riverside Walk, and by the time we reached the river entry point, it felt like an army of hikers was ready to plunge in. I stepped into the Virgin River and felt an icy shock – despite the summer season, the water was cold! (I can only imagine winter, when you’d need a full drysuit to handle the frigid water.)
Surrounded by others gingerly wading in, I had to laugh at the Instagram vs. reality contrast: social media usually shows one lone explorer in The Narrows, but here we were, dozens of us shuffling upstream like ants in a canyon.
Within the first half-mile, the river canyon walls closed in dramatically. In some sections called “Wall Street,” the gorge is just 20-30 feet wide with a thousand-foot walls above.
The beauty was absolutely real – high above, the morning light hadn’t yet reached the canyon floor, so the walls glowed a moody blue-gray, and occasional beams of sun transformed the water into ribbons of emerald. I found myself in awe that such a place exists.
However, the experience was far from solitary. We leap-frogged and dodged other groups constantly. If someone stopped to take a photo, you inevitably waded through their shot.
At one point, I tried to pause in a quieter nook to just listen to the echoes of trickling water – only to have a boisterous tour group barrel past, selfie sticks held high. So much for wilderness solitude.
Despite the crowd, as we ventured deeper, people spread out a bit. Every time the canyon twisted, it revealed a new painted grotto or a trickling waterfall. There were moments I did feel a sense of wild wonder, especially whenever I looked up – the ribbon of sky above reminded me how insignificant we humans were down in this stony slot.
I also became acutely aware of the natural forces at play. The Narrows exist because of eons of water carving through rock, and even today it’s a dynamic place. The park service will close the Narrows when river flow is too high or flash flood risk is elevated (common during spring snowmelt or summer thunderstorms).
In fact, I was constantly mindful of the weather forecast; a sudden storm upstream could send a deadly surge of water through this canyon with little warning. Thankfully, conditions were stable that day, and the only challenge was the current tugging at our legs and the occasional slippery rocks underfoot.
We hiked about two hours upstream, past the junction with Orderville Canyon, before turning around. By late morning, crowds of newcomers were flooding in as we headed out.
The midday sun had finally crept into parts of the Narrows, illuminating the walls in that famous golden glow. It was jaw-droppingly gorgeous – and I understood why everyone wants to experience this. Still, on our way back I passed literally hundreds of people starting the hike, forming a continuous chain of bodies in the water.
It was honestly overwhelming. I felt a twinge of disappointment that even in such an epic natural cathedral, the press of humanity was inescapable during peak hours.
If I ever return to The Narrows, I’ll try for an off-season or weekday, or hike further up beyond where most day hikers turn around, to find a slice of solitude. In the end, The Narrows was worth it for me – the scenery is unlike anything else – but the atmosphere was more social than serene.
If you’re someone who finds joy in camaraderie, you might love it; if you crave quiet connection with nature, you might find The Narrows hype a bit oversold unless you plan very carefully.
Observation Point
One of my most memorable Zion experiences came somewhat unexpectedly at Observation Point. This overlook sits at 6,521 feet, towering above the canyon – higher than Angels Landing – and it offers a bird’s-eye view that left me speechless.
Ironically, many Zion visitors miss out on Observation Point these days because the classic trail to it from the canyon floor has been closed indefinitely since 2019 due to a massive rockfall.
I learned about the closure while planning my trip and was initially disappointed; Observation Point was rumored to have the best panoramic view in the park, letting you look down at Angels Landing and across a huge swath of Zion. Luckily, with a bit of research I found there’s an alternate way to reach it: the East Mesa Trail, which starts on the plateau above Zion.
It’s a longer drive to the trailhead outside the park’s main canyon, but the hike itself is easier (mostly flat) and only about 7 miles round-trip. We decided to give it a shot for a sunrise hike – and it turned out to be the sanity check I needed after the busy canyon.
Starting in the pre-dawn darkness, we had the East Mesa Trail entirely to ourselves. Walking through a quiet forest of pines and junipers, I could feel a sense of calm return. After about an hour and a half, the trail suddenly opened up – we emerged literally at the edge of Zion Canyon, on Observation Point, just as the sun was rising.
The view was extraordinary. Far below, I could see the tiny spine of Angels Landing thrusting out into the void (from this height, it honestly looked minuscule – a different perspective indeed).
The whole canyon was blanketed in soft morning light; wisps of mist clung to the river way down in the valley. In the distance, the West Temple and other sandstone monoliths glowed pink and orange.
And here’s the best part: we were the only ones up there. For a solid 30 minutes, my hiking partner and I had this epic viewpoint completely to ourselves, in absolute silence except for the wind. After the hubbub of Angels Landing and The Narrows, Observation Point felt like a sacred retreat.
It struck me how different an experience can be when you’re not shoulder-to-shoulder with other tourists. I was able to sit on a rock ledge, dangle my feet, and just be present with Zion’s grandeur.
Observation Point’s loftier elevation provides a sweeping perspective; some say it’s tied with (or even better than) Angels Landing in terms of best view, and I now wholeheartedly agree.
The sense of scale – the tiny ribbon of road below, the colossal sandstone temples at eye-level across the void – was humbling. I found myself reflecting on the irony that one of Zion’s most breathtaking vistas was almost empty, while the famous Instagram spots were packed.
Perhaps the hurdle of the closed main trail (and the extra effort to reach the alternate trailhead) kept the masses away, and in this case that was a blessing.
If you’re an adventure traveler craving Zion’s beauty without the crowds, I can’t recommend Observation Point via East Mesa Trail enough. Just be aware of the logistics: you’ll need to drive around to Zion’s east side (near Zion Ponderosa Ranch) and navigate some dirt roads to the trailhead.
Also, if it’s winter, the rim country gets snow and ice – any trail to Observation Point would be dangerous in those conditions (much of the route is along cliffs). But in fair weather, it’s a fairly moderate hike for such a huge payoff.
Standing up there, I had a moment of pure joy that no photo on social media had ruined for me in advance. In fact, after experiencing Observation Point, I realized Zion still held surprises beyond the over-hyped hotspots.
The Shuttle, Social Media, and Over-Tourism
It’s impossible to talk about Zion’s reality without addressing the crowd factor and logistics. Zion National Park’s popularity has exploded, and it faces what can only be described as an over-tourism problem during peak times.
From March through October, the main Zion Canyon is accessible only by park shuttle bus (no private cars allowed when the shuttle is in operation). This system, implemented in 2000, is absolutely necessary – there’s one narrow road in the canyon and only a few hundred parking spots, which fill up by 8 or 9 AM on busy days.
So, on the plus side, the shuttle reduces traffic jams and pollution in the canyon. On the downside, it means you need to plan your day around buses and often wait in long lines to board.
My first morning, I arrived at the Visitor Center a little before 7 AM and already encountered a line of dozens of people for the shuttle. By 8 AM, that line was hundreds deep.
I overheard a ranger cheerfully warning later arrivals that they might have a 30- to 60-minute wait just to get on a bus – standing-room only. On holiday weekends, it can be even worse; I read that on Memorial Day the line stretched out of the park gates and wait times exceeded an hour. “Pack your patience” is an understatement.
The shuttles themselves are efficient and run frequently, but demand still outstrips capacity during peak hours. If you start very early (6-7 AM) or later in the afternoon, you’ll do fine. But I learned that hitting the most popular trailheads at prime time (8-9 AM) is asking for frustration.
One morning, we tried to catch a “late” shuttle around 9:30 AM and ended up waiting through three full buses until there was space for us. By then, we were standing pressed among a crowd of hikers with backpacks and trekking poles jabbing about. It’s not exactly the serene national park vibe you might have envisioned.
And it’s not just the shuttles – every aspect of Zion in peak season involves crowds. Trail congestion, lookout points, the one small café at Zion Lodge, even bathrooms have lines. I definitely hit a point during my visit (around midday after a Narrows hike) when the crowd fatigue set in.
I remember standing in line for the shuttle return at Temple of Sinawava, looking at the hordes of tired, sunburned people, and thinking: “Is this nature or an amusement park?” As John Muir famously said, going to the mountains is going home, but here I was in one of the most beautiful places on earth feeling a bit like I was at a theme park. That was a tough pill to swallow.
So, what’s behind this surge? Part of it is simply that Zion is gorgeous and relatively easy to reach. But a big accelerator has been the rise of social media. Sites like Instagram have turned places like Angels Landing and The Narrows into viral bucket-list sensations.
Ten years ago, Zion didn’t have hour-long lines for shuttles; now it’s routine. Park officials noted that around 2013, after Instagram’s popularity grew, they started seeing unprecedented crowding and even had to begin managing shuttle lines – something unheard of before.
Zion went from ~2.5 million visitors in the mid-2000s to a record 5 million in 2021, making it the third-busiest national park despite being one of the smaller parks in size. The park’s fame – its “celebrity,” as one superintendent called it – has created big challenges.
There’s an ongoing debate about how to preserve the quality of both the environment and visitor experience. Zion has tried measures like the Angels Landing permit, and there’s talk of broader reservation systems. As a visitor, I felt those growing pains firsthand.
Now, if you’re like me – an adventure traveler willing to put up with some inconvenience – there are ways to mitigate the crowds. Traveling off-peak is huge. For example, visiting on weekdays, outside of major holidays, or in the shoulder seasons can make a difference.
Starting hikes at first light meant we had trails more to ourselves for a few precious hours. We also explored less-trodden corners: one afternoon we drove up the Kolob Terrace Road (a scenic drive to higher elevations in Zion, outside the shuttle zone) and saw maybe two other cars the whole time.
It was a relief to experience some solitude and discover views of Zion that aren’t plastered on every Instagram feed. Similarly, the Kolob Canyons section of the park (a separate entrance about 40 miles north) was nearly empty at dusk – we enjoyed a quiet sunset there with red cliffs all around and not another soul in sight.
These moments salvaged the trip for me, proving that Zion can still deliver solitude and wildness if you seek it out beyond the hot spots.
That said, if you absolutely hate crowds, Zion in peak season will test your nerves. I met a traveler in my lodge who had been to Zion 20 years ago and was shocked at the transformation – “I wouldn’t come back in summer again,” she admitted, citing the noise and congestion.
Over-tourism is real here. The park rangers encourage visitors to explore Zion’s lesser-known trails or even visit other nearby parks (like Bryce Canyon or Canyonlands) if they find Zion too hectic. It’s sound advice. There’s a whole region of stunning public lands in southern Utah; Zion is just the most famous.
Personally, I had moments of irritation – like when I had to literally queue in line on a trail or when an oblivious group blasted music by the river – but I also had moments of pure wonder that reminded me why Zion is so beloved. It’s a double-edged sword: the very things that make Zion spectacular also make it popular.
What to Expect in Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter
One factor that can make or break your Zion experience is the timing of your visit. Having now researched and experienced Zion, I’ve learned that each season in the park has a totally different character.
Here’s a quick rundown of Zion through the year, and how seasons can affect the experience:
Spring (March – April)
This is a transitional and unpredictable time. Early spring can still feel like winter at higher elevations – snowmelt often swells the Virgin River, and The Narrows may be closed for weeks due to unsafe high water.
By April, wildflowers start to bloom and cottonwood trees turn green, making the canyon extra beautiful. Temperatures are mild (chilly nights, pleasant days), but be prepared for a wide range – I saw 70°F one afternoon and near freezing that night.
Spring is also spring break season, meaning crowds spike in March; Zion sees nearly three times as many visitors in March compared to February. If you plan a spring trip, avoid the spring break peak if possible, or brace for busy shuttles. On the bright side, waterfalls like Emerald Pools are fullest in spring, and the landscape is refreshed by winter’s moisture.
Summer (May – early September)
High season in every sense. Expect intense heat – days regularly top 100 °F, and hiking under the desert sun is exhausting without ample water and sun protection.
The park is fully operational (shuttles run full-time, long hours), and everything is open except when weather intervenes. Summer brings the monsoon from July into early fall, meaning sudden thunderstorms and flash flood risk, especially in canyons.
Rangers will post warnings; heeding them is literally life-saving. Crowds are at their peak – roughly half a million people visit Zion each month in summer, so every trail, shuttle, and viewpoint will have company. All parking is usually full by 8–9 AM, so an early start is essential.
The upside? Long days give you time to see a lot (if you can handle the heat), and everything (shops, shuttles, services) is running at max schedule. If you visit in summer, plan for early morning hikes, take midday siestas or easy walks, and then maybe venture out again in late afternoon when it’s a bit cooler and crowds disperse.
Also, carry lots of water – dehydration and heat exhaustion are common issues for visitors in summer.
Fall (October – November)
My visit was in fall, and I found it to be a sweet spot. Temperatures eased to a more comfortable range (70s°F by day, cooler at night), and a glorious calm began to return to the park.
October still sees plenty of visitors, but by November there’s a notable drop-off in crowds. The shuttle still operates in October on a regular schedule, though with slightly shorter hours/frequency.
By late November, after Thanksgiving, the shuttles scale back significantly or stop except on holidays. The autumn colors in Zion are subtle but lovely – golden cottonwoods along the river in late October, and red maples up in the higher elevations early in the season.
For hikers, fall is fantastic: cooler weather for long treks, and flash flood season is generally over by mid-September, so The Narrows tends to remain open (though always check conditions). This is arguably the best time for those who want a balance of decent weather and fewer people.
That said, “fewer” is relative – it’s still popular, just not summer-level popular. I remember enjoying a nearly empty trail on a weekday in November, which felt like a gift.
Winter (December – February)
Winter in Zion is a tale of two worlds: the snow-dusted high country and the milder canyon floor. Zion Canyon sits at a lower elevation (4,000 ft), so it experiences cool but not arctic winters – daytime highs can be 50–60 °F, with nights below freezing.
You might get lucky with some snow that turns the red cliffs white for a day or two; usually it melts quickly in the canyon. The higher plateaus, however, accumulate snow and ice, which means trails to places like Observation Point or Angels Landing can be dangerously icy (traction devices like microspikes are a must in those conditions).
The big advantage of winter: solitude. Visitation is at its lowest; Zion in January feels like a different park. You can drive your own car into Zion Canyon when shuttles are off for the season (typically December through February, except around holidays), which gives more flexibility.
Trails like Angels Landing are still open (no permit needed back when shuttles aren’t running, though now permits are year-round), but they can be treacherous with ice – the park often closes trails that become too icy or have falling ice risk.
The Narrows in winter is for the hardcore – the water is frigid, and you’ll need special dry pants or drysuit gear from local outfitters to wade in safely. One perk: the clear winter air can make for stunning photography, and wildlife is easier to spot without the crowds.
If you don’t mind cold toes and shorter daylight, winter offers Zion’s peace back to you. Just come prepared for possible weather delays and limited services (some lodging or restaurants in Springdale reduce hours in off-season).
In short, Zion’s character changes with the seasons. There is no single “perfect” time – it depends on what you value. If you asked me, I’d say go in fall or late spring for the best mix of good weather and manageable crowds.
But even a winter trip or a scorching summer visit can be rewarding in their own ways if you plan ahead. Knowing these seasonal trade-offs can help set your expectations and ensure you experience Zion at its best for you.
Is Zion Worth the Hype?
So, after my honest, up-close experience, is Zion National Park truly worth all the hype? My answer is a qualified “Yes – but…”. Zion absolutely earns its reputation for breathtaking beauty.
The landscapes are the kind that imprint themselves on your soul: the grandeur of Zion Canyon, the otherworldly adventure of hiking a river in The Narrows, the heart-pounding excitement of scaling Angels Landing, and the quiet magnificence of gazing out from Observation Point.
There were moments during my trip that I’ll never forget – moments where Zion exceeded my expectations and reminded me why it’s considered a crown jewel of the National Park system.
However, the hype doesn’t always mention the trade-offs. The reality of Zion in peak times involves crowds, permits, and planning headaches that can diminish the magic if you’re not prepared.
Zion might not be worth it for some people. If you’re someone who prizes solitude in nature above all else, the popular parts of Zion will test your nerves. Those seeking a remote wilderness experience may find Zion Canyon too commercialized and congested (at least in high season) – and they wouldn’t be wrong to think so.
For me personally, I’m glad I experienced Zion. It challenged me in unexpected ways and not just physically on the trails, but mentally in how I sought patience and found appreciation amid crowds. Zion is worth it if you approach it with open eyes and the right mindset.