Four years ago in the earliest month of 2020, my dad called and asked me if I'd be interested in a 4 day, 3 night adventure hike into Havasupai Falls. It's a 10-mile hike into an unbelievably serene and fairy-tale like campsite with waterfalls of turquoise water (stay tuned for more descriptions and pictures of this magic), 3 nights of camping, side hikes, and the 10 mile return hike to get out. My cousin had just won the lottery (the Havasupai lottery, ofc) and had 15 slots to fill with hikers' names and credentials, and my dad +1 was on her list.
I thought for a total of .32 second before I jumped in and (perhaps over-) enthusiastically became his +1.
Enter pandemic, yada yada yada, and here we are four years older and finally cashing in on that lottery ticket.
Thankfully we knew some people. My cousin dropped everything she was doing to follow me out there in her hybrid, wait for me to figure out how to plug in my car (flip the breaker, Linds), and drive me back to the motel. And then she did it all in reverse the next morning. Thanks, Jamie.
That night, my dad and I packed and unpacked and repacked our giant backpacks a few times as we took in the last of the weather forecast - removed an extra pair of long underwear here, added more rain gear there - before we finally shrugged our shoulders and hoped we were ready.
The next morning, ready to load up on protein at the continental breakfast before the hike, we found 6 things: a jug of orange juice, a jug of milk, two types of bran cereal, muffins, and bagels. Not exactly the breakfast of champions, but it fit the vibe of the Grand Canyon Caverns Inn at mile marker 115.
After our starchy meal, we gathered together with the rest of our group and made the introductions. We were an assortment of characters, largely strangers, with a common tie to my cousin, Jamie.
Jamie and her ob/gyn wife, Melani (whose stitching skills came in veryyyyy handy. Stay tuned for that fun story)
Her 76-year-old father, Roger, who was back for a second try after having been carted out of Havasupai on a mule when he was a teenager because of a busted leg
Her pilot brother, Jeremy (who, as a pilot, was quite helpful in predicting the weather)
Her sister-in-law and nephew, Janina and Landon (who were always eating apples. How did they pack in all those apples?!)
Her uncle, Mark (who was a man of few words, and when he used them had the sweetest southern drawl that somehow made me feel like home)
Her swimsuit model/middle school teacher cousin, Tiffani and Tiffani's husband, Mark - (who were both so beautiful and strong that I felt like a plumpy teenage boy next to both of them and kind of wished I'd packed at least a single tube of mascara)
And her friends, Aspen (who I bonded with over the beauty of e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g), Hilaree and Creed (a married couple), and Michelle (who I actually didn't get to know very well).
Jamie passed out all of our wristbands, and then we hopped into our cars and drove an hour to the trailhead. Which, if the cavern was in the middle of nowhere, the trailhead was off the maps. Actually, literally, it was off the maps. As we drove into the Havasupai Indian Reservation, the map in my Tesla stopped updating, and my little blue arrow simply marched its way along the gray grid. It made me wonder if that's some kind of thing between Tesla maps and Indian (Native American) Reservations?
Anyway - we finally made it to the trailhead, and here's the view.
The first couple of miles was made up of switchbacks to get us into the canyon.
But it wasn't bad at all. All through the hike and in the couple of days afterward we kept saying how easy it was... we were surprised that we hardly broke a sweat, and our muscles didn't complain at all.
Some of the other people in our group needed to stop occasionally to rest, but Poppy and I kept looking at each other with a shrug in our shoulders.
It mightttttttttt have had to do with the fact that we let the mules carry our heavy packs, lol.
But, I learned a couple of things from this.
1) Sometimes the only difference between a hard hike and an easy hike is letting someone else take your pack. Those carrying their own packs needed to stop much more often and were walking much slower than those of us who let the mules take our packs down. Mules are capable carriers of heavy loads in ways that we are not.
Just like Jesus.
Sometimes I insist on carrying my heavy packs even when Jesus is standing next to me offering to carry it for me. I stubbornly believe I can do it all - and sometimes I can do a lot - but when I share my load with Jesus, it makes my journey much easier. Jealousy. Judgement. Loneliness. Pride. Pack them up and hand them over. It makes me feel so much lighter.
2) It's important to condition yourself. If I had laced my hiking shoes onto a couch-potato body, I never would have made it. But because I put work into preparing myself before the event, my muscles were strong enough and my feet were calloused enough and my brain was prepared enough to complete the task.
Life will take us up and down mountains and hills. Spend time preparing for them so you're ready when they hit. The greatest trainer for me is the word of God. When I let it sink deep into my heart, I feel conditioned and ready enough for any rough terrain.
Speaking of terrain, this one was quite beautiful.
Aspen and I were particularly interested in all of the circular holes in the rocks all throughout the canyon. Maybe the rocks formed around trees? So interesting.
That little plant growing straight out of the rock right up there (pictured with my shoes)... Talk about bloom where you're planted.
One of the coolest things about the canyon were all of these rocks that were pocketed with dug-outs. Hikers had, over time, filled the holes with smaller rocks, and it made quite a stunning sight.
After 8 miles, we finally made it to Supai village, which was a fascinating place for a few reasons. Number one, it's small. Very small. The latest data I could find says it has about 500 residents, and it only took us about 5 minutes to walk through the whole village. And, largely because there's no road access into the village, it's the most remote community in the continental United States. The only way in and out is that 8 mile hike on foot or mule. Alternatively, you can fly by helicopter. Apparently it's the only place where the U.S. mail is delivered and carried out by mule.
But even in the remotest community in the continental United States:
Talk about bloom where you're planted.
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