Havsu Blog

Chasing Sunrises & Waterfalls

The morning started like something out of a dream—watching the sun rise over Dead Horse Point State Park in Utah, already deep into my mission to visit all five of the state’s national parks. That’s when Josh called. He had managed to do the impossible—secure us a campsite in Havasu Falls. Actually, five campsites. He logged in right at 8 a.m. when reservations opened, racking up over $2,000 in bookings. Given how tough it is to get even one, it was wild that we got five. Luckily, they let us release the extras, which were immediately snapped up by other eager campers.

With our permits secured, we booked our flights and headed to Las Vegas—equal parts excitement and what the heck did we just sign up for? The six-hour drive gave us plenty of time to let it all sink in. 

As we finished unloading our car, we watched as mules were loaded up with other campers' gear. I laughed, thinking that those who didn’t carry their own packs were missing part of the experience. Plus, I saved $100 by doing it myself. Just as we were about to start hiking, we heard the whir of a helicopter. For $200, you could skip the hike and be flown straight to camp. No way. My cheapness wouldn’t allow it, and honestly, we all joked that the helicopter was probably reserved for influencers who needed to arrive sweat-free for their Instagram shots.

We loaded up our gear and started the 10-mile descent into the canyon. At first, the weight on my back didn’t seem too bad—just awkward. My camping backpack had my regular backpack strapped to it, swinging and smacking my legs with every step. It held my camera gear, and as inconvenient as it was, I knew it would be worth it. The descent was easygoing at first, a nice downhill stretch that soon leveled out into a long, straight path. We stopped every few miles to stretch and give our backs a break—the weight was catching up to us. Distance in a place like this can really mess with your perception. When we finally spotted some buildings, we thought we had made it. Nope. It was just the check-in station, and we still had a few miles to go. 

After signing in, hitting the bathrooms, and downing some water and protein bars, we pushed on. The fatigue was setting in, and we had to keep moving before our muscles gave out on us. When we finally spotted our campsite in the distance, something even better caught our eyes—a food cart selling fry bread. Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe it was just that good, but we each inhaled two pieces like it was the best thing we’d ever eaten.

We set up camp next to a stream, nestled against a towering canyon wall. The natural white noise was perfect for an afternoon nap. Later, we took long-exposure shots of the falls, which—apparently—didn’t sit well with some nearby campers. They flashed their lights back at us in frustration. Fair enough.

One of the highlights (besides the falls themselves) was the sketchy ladder climb down to the base of the waterfall. It was absolutely worth it. Of course, we weren’t the only ones trying to get the perfect shot. We waited our turn behind a guy in neon short-shorts doing what could only be described as his own private photoshoot. When we checked Instagram after the trip, we couldn’t find a trace of him. Either he wasn’t much of an influencer after all, or those were just some really extra Christmas card photos.

Josh whipped up some solid camp meals, and I spent hours reading Halloween—no TV, no WiFi, just the sound of nature and the glow of the stars. We stayed for three days, each night just as breathtaking as the last. The only downside? The long trek to the restrooms.

On our last day, we started the 10-mile hike out, stopping at a recycling area where campers could leave behind extra propane canisters and unwanted gear. As we reached the final stretch, we spotted Insta Guy waiting for the helicopter. That was all the motivation we needed—we made it our mission to beat him out of the canyon on foot. The last mile was brutal—steep, uphill switchbacks—but we pushed through, making it back to the car in about three hours. Did we beat the helicopter? Not quite. But having a goal kept us moving fast.

Our first stop? The only gas station around, where we stocked up on snacks, guzzled cold drinks, and hobbled toward the restroom. The cashier took one look at us and grinned.

“You must have been camping at the falls,” she said. “You’re all doing the Supai Shuffle.”

She wasn’t wrong. But every sore muscle and every step of that hike had been absolutely worth it.