Sharing the Night Sky

Tears blubbered from my eyes as I drove away from the Havasupai Falls trailhead, following the ten-mile hike out of the canyon just three days later. 

After pausing for a moment to admire my campsite and take in all that it represented for me, I was eager to continue in exploring while the sun was hanging high in the sky. I grabbed my book and headed to the nearest waterfall, where I settled into a little spot between two rocks in direct observation of the crashing water. To no surprise, I read a total of one page over a matter of four hours, as each time I began to read I found myself in conversation with the next passerby instead. Something amazing happens when people find themselves in the midst of a community. 

As the water was heating for my dinner-in-a-bag that night, I took some time to reflect on the rest of my day. The bond in this community was so strong. Everyone I spoke with was so clearly breathing in the same fresh air as I. Everyone was disconnected from the world that we know so well. Everyone had put sweat and strength into this destination. And everyone was voluntarily and excitedly doing life here for four days, with nothing more than the bag they carried down.  There is strength in commonalities and there was a bond that transcended being surrounded by mere strangers. I wished my neighbors a good nights rest before laying down with the intent to read, but was greatly distracted by the sky of stars as I quickly drifted off to sleep for the night. 

The next morning I woke up early, prepared a quick oatmeal breakfast, and headed out for the day around 6:30am. The days goal: the confluence. The confluence is roughly a twenty-mile round trip hike to the overlook of the beautiful blue water of the Havasu River flowing into the rapid, dark-green water of the Colorado River.

After the descent down Mooney Falls just beyond the camp ground, the trail was quite easy to follow. I can’t quite explain it, but every turn seemed to be more breathtaking than the last. There were times when the vivid color made me feel like I was in the middle of Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory (without the singing oompa-loompas and the chocolate, unfortunately). At other times I felt like God was giving me a little glimpse of what heaven will be like; an adventure full of excitement and awe as He shows me around, while talking me through all of His most wonderful plans and creations. The ultimate filling of the desire that He has given me for adventure.

Already a fairly quick hiker, I had a little extra pep in my step as I navigated this wonderland and began a time of reflection. I reflected on my first two weeks in Flagstaff, praising God for the perfectly woven details. I thought through the many events that led up to Havasupai. I revisited the material from the most recent video call that I had had with Donna and Roy. I backed up and looked at the greater picture of how God had brought me to this moment. I simply spent the time with God…every step. 

After about four hours of hiking, I came to a spot where it appeared as though my only option was to wade through the chest deep water between two walls of rock. I knew I was nearing the confluence and having studied some of the reviews for this hike, I also knew that there had to be another way to get to the overlook. I backtracked a little bit to the last place in which I was confident in the trail and attempted to reroute, ending up at the exact same spot. Deciding it was time to consult the map, I pulled out my phone and checked my AllTrails App for a little assistance. Although hard to tell, it looked as though there was certainly another way…I backtracked again. As I turned and began to reroute for the second time, I saw some people wading through the water between those two rock walls. It was a whole group of people, so I figured that they were rafters off of the Colorado River. A few people passed by with a quick hello and a kind smile as I proceeded back to that spot, assuming that the route did, indeed, go between the rocks. The rafters continued to pass me by, headed in the opposite direction, when one of them stopped to ask me what time I had left the campground. 

“Around 6:30”, I said. 

“I must’ve been just ahead of you. I left at 6.”, he said as he reached out to shake my hand. “I’m J.J.” 

I looked down to see the Havasupai wristband around his arm, putting the pieces together in realizing that he wasn’t another one of the rafters and that he, too, was staying at the campground. After introducing myself, J.J. pointed out that the trail went up and over the rocks, but following him, I took the water route instead. Just around a small curve in the narrowing walls the blue water of the Havasu River flowed into the raging, rapid water of the very wide Colorado River. 

• 

• 

Just as back at my campsite the day before, the thought of “I actually did it” relayed in my mind as I began to get to know my new friend. J.J. was from Los Angeles and was in the midst of enjoying his third Havasupai experience. He explained that this was the first time that he was able to make it to the confluence, previously restricted by friends or circumstances, he was determined to make it a priority this time, leaving his friends behind at the campground. As the water began to feel a bit more chilly than refreshing, we made our way back to our bags, and prepared for the trek back. Determined to finish the trail appropriately, I went up over the rocks to appreciate the overlook of the raging water as I refueled with my granola bar. Talking to a few rafters on my way out of that area, JJ and I’s timing lined up, as he had done the same. 

At that point we started our trek back together, and after a while, we realized that the similarity in our hiking pace would keep us together for the full ten-mile hike (this is a rarity, my friends!). To this we both told the other that they could split off and hike alone if they’d rather. We both declined and our conversation flowed on just as smoothly as that blue water bent around the curves. Although each turn was just as breathtaking as it had been headed in the other direction, this half of the hike came with an extra element of thrill. Not long after being charged by a ram, we found ourselves at a spot that neither of us remembered. However, looking up to realize that our wrong turn had led us to a beautiful blue lagoon, we delayed the retracing of our steps to cool off for a bit!

After getting back on track, we made our way to Beaver falls, only 3 miles from the campground. J.J., having been there before, was able to give me a crash course in experiencing the best parts of that area with our limited time. In that moment, I was convinced that this trip couldn’t get any better. I was beaming with joy and my smile muscles were feeling the direct effects. We arrived back at the campground around 6:00pm and parted ways for dinner after deciding on reuniting for another day’s adventure in the morning. 

I found my campsite untouched by the raccoons and squirrels, thankfully, and my neighbors warmly welcomed me home, explaining that they had begun to worry about me as the canyon was growing dark (I made sure to share that part with my parents later on). I enjoyed my second flavor of dinner-in-a-bag, attempted to capture some of the day in words, and then drifted of to the sky of stars once again. 

The next morning I woke up, and having decided we would get a later start on the day, I knew I had time to leisurely enjoy my breakfast and some quiet time alone. I began to journal about the day prior, trying to fill in the details from my entry the night before. After a while, J.J. stopped by the campsite just to confirm the days plans and simply say good morning. If possible, my excitement grew for the day ahead. 

Although I would love to give every detail of our day, I’ll keep it short in saying that our shared sense of adventure and feelings of joy in simply being present catapulted this day beyond the last. I don’t know how, but it got better. There were many moments when I wanted time to freeze more than I’ve ever wished. Moments when we took the back path that opened into a wall of waterfalls without another soul in sight. Moments when we just sat and listened, not to each other, but to the sounds of water hitting all around us; the mist blowing as the air rolled by. One moment in particular will forever be ingrained in my mind. We were with JJ’s friends, and surrounded by many other “strangers” at the main waterfall trying to catch the last bit of sunshine. I found a little spot to relax in some shallow water where the rocks naturally curved to form a chair and one of the few spots remaining with direct sunlight. I closed my eyes and basked in the moment. Before long I heard a “Pssst”. I opened my eyes and looked over to see J.J. in the next closest available sunshine spot. He lifted his hands as if he were holding a camera to the waterfall and snapped a picture in his mind. (Yes, we had greatly discussed the beauty of being disconnected from technology, as well as the lack of a desire to pose for many photos, even surrounded by beauty.) J.J. put his “camera” away and said, “Thank you for this.” He may have gone through the actions to take the mental photo, but the recording will forever be in my mind. 

That night my dinner table grew from one to five, including J.J., his friends, and Juno, a travel nurse from Flagstaff that had made the trek into the canyon the day after me. By the time dinner was gone and conversation grew quiet, the sky was sparkling, so we navigated away from the lights of the campground to a bench at the top of Mooney Falls. The canyon walls restricted the amount of visible sky, but for me, it made it that much more amazing…knowing that there was so much more than what I could see. 

Before long, only J.J. and I remained. We were both silent for a while, overtaken by the artwork in the night sky. After what seemed like only a few moments, the tranquil silence was broken by the growing sound of a whisper. We each flicked on our flashlights just in time to spotlight the three raccoons that were coming to check in on us. Having been caught red-handed, they were quick to flee the scene and our attention was quick to shift back to the twinkling of the stars and the distant sound of the water crashing at the bottom of Mooney Falls. 

Before long we began pointing out constellations and with each star that shot across the sky one of us would say, “Did you see that one?” It never got old. We laid under the stars until the canyon grew chilly and the available hours for sleep grew a little too short. Thanking each other for yet another amazing day, J.J. and I headed back to our campsites for the night. Stargazing was the perfect ending to that days adventures. 

The next morning Juno and I began the trek out of the canyon at six in the morning. We parted ways at the switchbacks, the most challenging part of the hike. As I made the final steps out of the canyon, I was greeted by my new friends. Greater yet, J.J. kindly offered me a cold water and half of the snickers bar that he had been dreaming of for the past three days. After chatting in the parking lot for a while, we all hugged our good-byes, or what we hoped to be see-you-soons, got into our cars, and headed our separate ways. 

As I drove away, tears filled my eyes – not because of the goodbye as I was quite certain JJ and I would be in touch, but because of the overwhelming certainty that I was right where I was supposed to be in that time. 

For those of you who read this and have woven it into a great fairytale love story, I encourage you to read it again with a new lens and seek the true beauty in this interaction. The disconnection from the world allowed for a genuine connection greater than that of the world. Undoubtably, a perfectly orchestrated crossing of paths. 

Thank you, Joel Jonathan, for your genuine heart, beautiful company, and most of all, for allowing me to share in the joy that you radiate.