This is a short summary of my 16-page memoir about the Havasupai trip and my journey through the deserts from Sept. 22 through 27, 2026. The detailed stories will be in the next two newsletters.
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I didn’t truly understand the word Shangri-La until I trekked 10 miles deep down south of the Grand Canyon in Arizona to the blue water on the Havasupai Reservation, home of the Havasupai Tribe, and saw the milky light blue creeks and splendid waterfalls pouring into azure ponds below. The pristine water comes from invisible aquifers under the canyon’s ancient limestone layers, which formed under prehistoric seas hundreds of millions of years ago.
As the spring water flows underground, it dissolves high concentrations of calcium carbonate. Upon reaching the surface, these dissolved minerals precipitate out of the water to build the travertine formations and waterfalls seen today. As sunlight hits the microscopic calcium carbonate particles suspended in the stream, it scatters the light, giving the creek its famous turquoise-blue color.
I was among thousands of annual trekkers and campers who journeyed from afar to see this hidden Shangri-La. I drove 1,500 miles roundtrip between the San Francisco Bay Area and the trailhead. Driving through the western deserts was itself another inspirational and spiritual awakening.
Deep in the arid, hot, dusty canyon of red rock walls, Havasupai is an oasis of beauty, peace, and nature’s power. The constant sound and sight of the flowing blue water nourishes lush green vegetation, wildlife, and human souls.
The creek splashes and sings along its course. Waterfalls rush and roar down red cliffs, then flow gently over the brims of naturally made blue pools where people swim or sit at the travertine brims to soak and relax. Being next to the moving spring water is enchanting, soothing, and invigorating. I was under its spell at the 50 Foot Falls, where multiple falls splash down across a 400-foot span. I experienced its charm while sitting on a rock by Little Navajo Falls, listening to the all-surrounding chorus of water music. The water refreshed both my body and soul after swimming in the light blue Infinity Pool at Beaver Falls. The awesome power mesmerized me every time I gazed at the spectacular columns of white water roaring off the cliffs at Mooney and Havasu Falls.
The beauty of the creeks and rushing water was all the more refreshing when contrasted with the well-trodden main road leading to the campground that was half a foot deep with red dust mixed with mule dung; the sight of too many “tourists,” as referred to by the local Indians; and too many flies inside each composting toilet room, swarming around while we did our business. I am not whitewashing or sugarcoating anything.
Why are all the most wonderful places on earth so hard to get to? Not only driving and hiking through the deserts, but also climbing up and down with hands and feet on the steep trails under the scorching sun, gingerly crossing waist-deep water on the slippery and invisible travertine creek bed under our feet, and descending the horror-inspiring vertical height to the bottom of Mooney Falls, which blew mist up to the chains and ladder on which my hands held tight while my feet stretched for the next foothold. It allowed no margin for error.
God sent angels to me on the way down and back up again. Their support and encouragement helped me find the strength in myself.
On the way down, this young couple, Jordan and Alana, looked me in the eyes and gave me their absolute faith with repeated assurance: “You can do it, you can do it!” Jordan was leading me and Alana was behind me, making me feel safe and protected front and back. Without this psychological and emotional support, I would not have been able to climb down on my own.
When I reached the ground from the last rung of the ladder, I exploded: “I did it! I did it!! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!!” I hugged each of them so tight, with all my gratitude and joy.
When we arrived at Beaver Falls, Jordan and Alana climbed to the top-tier pool, not at all deterred by the risk of falling on the steep red limestone rocks. They came back that day just to do this. Their courage inspired me to get to the second-tier Infinity Pool to explore the water and swim in it. Soon, others standing around the edge followed suit. When I told Jordan about this, he said: “You are an influencer!” To which I replied: “No, YOU inspired me, YOU influenced me.”
On the way back, God put Jonathan, another angel, in my way, who thoughtfully let me lead the ascent up the steep ladder, so I would not feel pressured or rushed if he was ahead of me.
I would not call this trip “my solo hike” like the one I did three months ago at Zion’s The Narrows (and I was never alone at The Narrows either, for I felt the companionship of the Holy Spirit throughout). Without Jordan and Alana, I would not have reached the bottom of Mooney Falls. Climbing back up with Jonathan behind me certainly made it easier. The next day, Jonathan and I explored two other falls. Without Jonathan’s helping hands, I would not have dared to go through the “jungle” and wade in knee-deep, sometimes waist-deep water on the invisible and slippery travertine riverbed to reach 50 Foot Falls.
The waterfalls were magical. What moved me more than the waterfalls was the kindest and purest of humanity. I experienced the purest kind of love, the best of humanity, both from other hikers and from myself. In nature, in the wilderness, this kind of random connection and these unforgettable experiences became the soaring melody created in the background of infinity.
God sent angels to each other. We all became connected and bonded instantly.
The Havasupai trip was one of the most humbling experiences for me personally. I came to realize my own limit. I had never felt the kind of almost insurmountable fear I felt before descending the vertical height to the bottom of Mooney Falls. I am humbled to learn that I could not have done it alone; I needed psychological and emotional support from others.
I was and am eager and compelled to be their angels, to be others’ angels, whenever and wherever possible. There is no quid pro quo of any kind here. To be able to help and empower others, to be each other’s angels, is itself a feel-good, joyful thing.
There is an ancient truth for the way of life on Earth. Civilization, digitalization, and now the AI or SI age give us all amnesia: We forgot about nature. We forgot where we came from. We are no longer connected to nature.
It takes driving a thousand miles through the Mojave Desert, under Arizona’s big sky, through an endless stretch of the Wild West, to be reminded of that ancient truth.
The endless and barren deserts stilled my soul, cleansed my mind, while I was away from modern life’s invisible webs, systems, stresses, signals, and noises.
For the entire 11 hours (including fueling and restroom breaks) of driving from my home in the San Francisco Bay Area to the Grand Canyon Caverns Inn in Arizona (65 miles from the Havasupai trailhead), I chose to drive without the distraction of listening to music or a book, just to let the passing desert, the purple-blue mountains, and the endless sky quietly speak to me. Back at home, when I do my walking or even drive to a nearby Costco for groceries, I often listen to an audiobook on the way.
The desert exposes its hairy chest to the sky; nothing hinders its reception of the celestial truth above. Driving through this vastness, I let my senses soak in the majestic emptiness. In my heart, the heavenly singing of “Panis Angelicus” was recurring for hours and hours. (Panis Angelicus, fit panis hominum…) Luciano Pavarotti’s Godly voice, accompanied by the angelic harmony of a boys’ choir, seemed to descend from above, echoing over the vast landscape, bounded by the distant purple mountains and the edge of the blue sky.
Then I heard myself humming it, amidst the quiet humming of my Prius engine. So touched by the grandeur of the open desert, I wept.
Celestial music, “In Humility, Our Savior,” accompanied me every step of the way climbing up the 10 miles from the bottom to the rim of the canyon on the last day, starting at 4 a.m. The same tune stayed with me during my long drive home. Again, I was awed by the huge, endless sky above the desert, in which the clouds stretched from one end of the world to the other, displaying their full drama. God’s paintbrush needs a sky-size canvas.
Only in America’s Wild West, Nevada, Arizona, New Mexico, and part of California, can Heaven and Earth be this otherworldly yet worldly. There is only one world order.
The ancient truth is the same, hundreds of millions of years in the past and hundreds of millions ahead. We came from dust and we all return to dust.
There is nothing more down-to-earth than going back to this ancient dust. There is no better place to be reminded of this truth than hiking down to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, seeing with my own eyes this ancient history deposited in layers of rock, and being in touch with the ancient source of heavenly blue water.
(My memoir detailing this Havasupai trip will be in the next two months’ newsletters, with breathtaking photos and videos I took there.)
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© Joanne Z. Tan, 2026. All rights reserved.
