A cathedral you can see from the road
I have stood at a lot of pullouts in this canyon over forty-odd years, and I still tell folks the same thing about the Court of the Patriarchs: no other spot in Zion gives you so much grandeur for so little sweat. From the little overlook on the east side of the Zion Canyon Scenic Drive you look across the Virgin River at a wall of stone that rises in tiers, three great sandstone summits stacked shoulder to shoulder like a row of elders sitting in judgment. That is exactly the image an old minister had in mind when he named them.
The three big peaks, running from south to north, are Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob — the patriarchs of Genesis, lined up in birth order. Abraham, the southernmost, is the tallest at roughly 6,890 feet; Isaac, the middle brother, tops out near 6,726 feet; Jacob anchors the north end. Standing out in front of them, lower and closer to the road, is a stout reddish tower called Mount Moroni, named for the angel of Latter-day Saint scripture. Moroni is the one that fools people: its orange-red base sits forward like a herald and the pale white crown of Jacob rises behind it, so a lot of first-timers take the red rock and the white rock for one mountain. They are not — Moroni is simply standing guard in front of the elders.
The preacher who named the canyon
Here is the tidbit that lights up every tour. Almost none of the grand names in Zion Canyon came from geologists or surveyors. They came from a Methodist minister named Frederick Vining Fisher, who rode up this canyon in 1916 and started handing out names as fast as the scenery could earn them — a preacher, not a mapmaker, reaching for scripture every time a cliff took his breath away.
On that famous trip Fisher had local company, including a young Latter-day Saint from Springdale named Claud Hirschi and, as the story goes, another local boy or two who knew the ground. When they came to this row of three summits, Fisher saw the patriarchs of the Bible standing in council, and the names Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob stuck — young Hirschi is credited with suggesting Isaac for the middle peak. The whole grouping got christened the Court of the Patriarchs, a court in the old sense, a gathering of the wise.
That same 1916 outing is the one where Fisher, watching the light pour down a colossal white monolith farther up the canyon, declared it the Great White Throne — the most celebrated name he ever gave. He is also usually credited with Angels Landing, the fin so sheer he reportedly said only an angel could land on it. So when you stand at the Court, you are looking at the opening chapter of a naming spree that gave Zion nearly its whole vocabulary of temples, thrones, and angels. I pass the boys-and-the-preacher details along as the old-timers tell them, as local lore rather than courtroom testimony — but the core, Fisher in 1916 naming these peaks and the Throne, is about as solid as canyon history gets.
What the river and the desert built
Strip away the names and what you are admiring is Navajo sandstone, the honey-and-cream rock that is the signature stone of Zion. It began as an ocean of sand — one of the largest dune fields the planet has ever known — that drifted across this region in the Jurassic, well over 150 million years ago. Bury those dunes deep, cement the grains with minerals over the ages, and you get the pale, cross-bedded cliffs that make the patriarchs glow. Look close in good light and you can pick out the long sweeping lines frozen into the rock: the faces of ancient dunes, laid down by a wind that stopped blowing before there were flowers on the earth.
The color story explains Mount Moroni's trick, too. The upper Navajo sandstone tends toward white and cream, while iron oxides — plain old rust — stain the lower rock red and orange. So Jacob's summit wears a white crown while Moroni, built of redder, iron-rich rock and standing out front, glows orange in the morning sun. As for how the peaks got carved off the main plateau, credit the water: the Virgin River and its tributaries have spent millions of years slicing this canyon down through the sandstone, and side streams gnawed the notches between one patriarch and the next. These summits are simply the pieces of the old plateau that have not washed to the sea yet.
The shortest trail in the park
Getting to the view could not be simpler, and that is the whole charm. Ride the Zion Canyon shuttle to stop 4, Court of the Patriarchs — a shuttle-only road for most of the year anyway. Step off, cross to the marked trailhead, and walk up a short, steep little path to the overlook: a couple of minutes and maybe fifty feet of climbing on a ramp barely a tenth of a mile long. It is one of the few Zion viewpoints a grandparent, a stroller, and a tired eight-year-old can all reach without complaint.
Here is where I earn my keep as the local: come in the morning. This overlook faces roughly west at the Patriarchs, so the low morning sun lands full and warm on their faces while you stand in comfortable shade. By afternoon the light swings behind the peaks and you are shooting into glare, the whole wall gone flat and hazy. Sunrise and the first couple of hours after are when Moroni burns orange and the white crowns light up as if lit from within — which is why the classic postcard of this spot is almost always a morning shot.
A few honest cautions, small as this outing is. The overlook is compact and draws crowds, so an early shuttle buys you both the light and elbow room at the railing. There is little shade up top and in summer this canyon bakes, so carry water and wear a hat even for a two-minute walk. Stand still at the railing, let your eyes climb from Moroni's red base to Jacob's white cap, and you will understand exactly what moved a traveling preacher to start naming mountains after prophets.
Nearby — make it a loop
The Court of the Patriarchs is a two-minute stop, so make it one bead on a longer string. It sits right on the main artery, and the best companion read is Zion National Park: Zion Canyon Scenic Drive, which ties together every shuttle stop from the Museum to the Temple of Sinawava — the Court is stop 4 on that very route. Ride up the canyon and crane your neck at Zion National Park: The Great White Throne, the towering white monolith the same 1916 preacher named on the same trip he christened these peaks. From the Court's overlook you can also plot a walk to Zion National Park: Emerald Pools or a stroll along the Zion National Park: Riverside Walk. Court in the morning, canyon all afternoon.