The Next, Next Big Thing

Dear Diary,

I seem to be sensing a pattern that some of my poorest decisions are made on the spur of the moment. Without THINKING them through. This last one was SO poor, it has cost me my next big thing.

What could have possibly been so bad that it would cost me so much? What could be so bad that it could not have been easily fixed for something so important?

Easy. Blisters.

I had gone to the city of Huntington Beach to enjoy my great nephew’s first birthday party, and to help my niece get ready for it. I finished early so decided to head down to the beach and do some training for The Lost Coast trek, which was supposed to happen at the end of August.

That in itself was not the poor decision. The poor decision was that I wore flimsy little fashionable flip flops to walk 10 miles. The rest is history.

The half-dollar sized blisters on the balls of both of my feet have been a serious bear to deal with. They formed under the hard part of my skin and have taken forever to heal. I won’t add a photo, I wouldn’t want to see it.

Whether it be God saving me from something worse that may have happened on the trek, or just an unfortunate series of events (as Lemony Snicket would say), the window for completing the Lost Coast solo has closed for this summer. That’s the bad news.

But here’s the good news…the Next, Next Big Thing is upon me! And for this one my hubby is going (’cause it’s on his bucket list). Next week we will be heading out to the Havasupai Indian Reservation (in the Grand Canyon) to embark on an adventure of a lifetime. Havasupai means “people of the blue-green water”, and you can certainly see why…(none of these photos are my own but I will have some soon!). Havasu_FallsThe calcium carbonate in the water is what gives it such an unusual color, and is ultimately why it is one of the most unique places to visit in the world.

The logistics of getting there is not easy.  I had to start way back in February to try and get a permit. It takes a bit of patience, since the Native Americans are inundated with calls (they open up the new year of reservations in February) and when they are done answering the phones for they day…they are done. So after 4 days of calling I finally got through and the only days they still had open were for September, which worked fine for me.

Permit number….check.

Being from LA though, it has been hard not to be able to go somewhere electronic (as in online) to reassure myself that my reservation number is good to go. This method of reserving doesn’t exist. The Havasupai do everything the old fashioned way. Which means I have to squelch my urges to reconfirm once a month (no I’m not obsessive compulsive, but I hang out in that neighborhood).

I am forced to admit here that yes, I have called to check (because once the permits are all gone, answering the phone becomes a bit more predictable) and they patiently laugh and tell me, “no we don’t want to check your number, the fact that you have one means your reservations are good.

Cool.

So next weekend we will be heading out to the old Route 66 out of Kingman Arizona, then a 2 hour ride down a dirt road, then park and hike down the 10 mile trail to the village of Supai, then another 2 miles along Havasu Creek to the campground where we will be making our home for a week. Supai is the only village left in the entire USA that still gets their mail by horseback. The tribe turned down the US governments offer to build a road down the canyon walls to the village. Consequently this little dot on a map remains remote. Very remote.

And all of the work will have been worth it to enjoy the five very different waterfalls. No matter how hard they may be to get to.

10981544_10203661697243340_6533061748091159209_nYou know me by now dearest, and will have known how much research I have already done to prepare for any known challenges.

Except one.

After having read blog after blog about this place I am resigned to the necessity of steeling myself for the inevitability of what we in LA would call animal abuse. The long steep trek in and out of the canyon is the only way to get supplies in and out of the area (including trash) so the horses who perform these jobs are driven hard. There are photos of sores from saddles oozing blood. Eeeeeeek!

Several of the blogs mention a horse being pushed off of the canyon edge by it’s owner in a fit of temper, and every tourist for months had to walk by it’s rotting carcass. Oh God help me, this is going to be tough. I’m such a softy for animals. There are also dog packs that roam the reservation freely (and I fully intend to take dog biscuits with me because they can be quite thin) and are not shown the affection we shower our dogs with (eeeeeeeek again!).

But I also reverently respect the ways of other peoples. So I will suck it up and try not to let anything I notice ruin my trip.

Nuff said on that. Let’s get back to the good stuff….

Mooney Falls

So with permit number in hand (geeez it’s hard not to be able to print something out) and pack on back…we will be heading out to our next destination off the beaten path.

Oh and while you’re at it…can you say a prayer for no rain? The canyon is narrow and if it rains hard or for any length of time, flash flooding is not only possible, but probable. Plus our waterfalls will look like this…

havasu_flood

So no rain dancing for the next three weeks ok? But then again…the adventure doesn’t start until the unplanned happens right?

Have you been there dearest? If so…what should I know before I go?

Until next time…

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