I could turn this blog into a multi-part series. I tend to be too wordy, especially when I do that, so I won’t.

Have you ever done something and loved it so much, that you still felt like you were on cloud nine even AFTER you got home? For days? That’s the kind of trip this was.

We all know the internet is both a blessing and a curse. I have used it time and time again to scope out new places and landmarks to visit. Then I visit and complain of all the litter and trampled vegetation because too many people found out about the place, in the same way that I did (::cough:: hypocrite).

Havasupai is one of those places. I saw it online, probably a decade ago at this point. I’m sure you’ve seen photos, too. Seriously aqua creeks, enchanting waterfalls, and a campground surrounded by the Grand Canyon. Since I’ve spent most of my life east of the Mississippi, it was never a serious trip idea. First, I’d have to land an impossible-to-land permit. Then, I’d have to book a flight, hotels, rental car, and would likely not be able to get any friends to commit to a trip like that.

I’m a Peter Pan and don’t want to get older, but growing up does have perks: you’ve (hopefully) been able to stash away some cash for a trip, and you’ve (hopefully) accumulated enough like-minded friends who will go with you on such a trip. I guess I’ve finally reached that point in my life!

My friend from my college days called me up one day to say he was organizing a trip there. I said absolutely, count me in, I will not bail, I’m 100% committed, YES! He had a fairly large group put together.

Permits became available February 1 during the middle of my work shift. My friend had trouble getting on the site, I was helplessly stuck giving you all the forecast for the day, and the permits started selling out by the second. He eventually got logged on and was extremely lucky to get half of the group permits by moving the dates we planned to go. But, it meant that half of the committed adventurers would be let down and out of luck. I happened to make the cut!

I was extremely excited, but also prepared myself for disappointment. I’ve been spoiled in the Sierra Nevada. It’s easy to find solitude in the backcountry, but I knew this would be a commercialized experience. The tribe who own the land offer helicopter and pack mule rides, as opposed to backpacking the 10 miles to the campground. I knew we’d be hearing and seeing helicopters every so often, and we’d have to dodge the pack mules weighed down with tourist’s luggage and coolers. I’d also heard rumors of pack animal mistreatment. I did not witness any, but there are many people claiming that it happens, and they encourage everyone to carry your own weight.

I drove out to Arizona and met up with two of the group members at the Grand Canyon Caverns campground of Route 66. I would love to return there and take the underground cave tour. It’s the funniest campground – dinosaurs, old police cars, and other random trinkets are scattered throughout the huge property. There are a couple of onsite restaurants, and even showers for campers! That was a luxury I wasn’t expecting.

I slept in the back of my car that night, and learned that I needed to fashion a platform bed. If you followed my social media last fall, you’d have seen the platform I built for my old Rav4. My new-to-me car is a little different in the back, and my Rav’s platform won’t work. Stay tuned for a future project.

After a freezing and uncomfortable night with little sleep, I woke up before sunrise and was so excited to get on the trail! The rest of the group had arrived after I went to bed, so the five of us went to breakfast, and hit the road. It would take around an hour to get to the trailhead.

There were SO MANY cars parked at the start of the trail. We had to turn around at the end of the road and drive back a half a mile to find a place to park. Once we were all gathered at the trailhead, we hoisted our too-heavy packs upon our backs, took a group photo, and started down the trail.

The first mile or so consists of switchbacks down into the canyon. You lose almost 1000 ft in elevation that first mile. I kept thinking about how much that’s going to hurt on the way out. During this first part, we did encounter a tribe member riding around on a horse, writing down names and the number of people in a group. They seem to be very on top of the permits, so don’t even try to hike without one.

You gradually lose another 1500 ft during the remainder of the trail. A lot of the trail is exposed to the sun at the bottom of the canyon, and you’re mainly hiking in a wash.

Around 6.5 miles, you catch your first glimpse of the aqua Havasu Creek. A this point, you start seeing vegetation, and even a fair amount of trees!

The town of Supai is around mile 8. Wikipedia claims it’s called the most remote community in the contiguous US, and the only place to carry out its mail via mule. You have to check in at the office here and get your wristbands. I actually got a bar or two of cell service!

The final 2 miles to the campground were tough. My pack was wearing on my hips, the trail felt like deep sand, and I was getting a bit tired. I was pretty surprised that I felt that way on a mostly downhill hike, but I’ll be honest, I didn’t do a lick of training for this, and I definitely never put on my weighted pack beforehand. 🙂

The final stretch spits you out above Havasu Falls. Oh. My. Word. It was the most spectacular waterfall I’d ever seen. It’s exactly like the pictures I’ve seen on the internet for so many years.

We had to cross a few sketchy boards over the creek to get to a good campsite. We dropped our packs, set up camp, then left to explore.

The campground is about .7 miles long, sitting between Havasu Falls and Mooney Falls. We followed the trail to check out Mooney.

This has a nerve wracking route down to the base of the falls. You crawl through two tunnels, then mostly slide down some polished rock using chains for hand rails. Then, you reach a series of slippery, muddy, rickety wood ladders. It’s steep, but if you take your time, I think most people can do it.

There is so much to explore once you’re at the bottom of Mooney Falls. The trail continues on, or you can play in the little grottos and numerous cascading pools.

 

It started getting late and cool, so I headed back up. After my typical Mountain House pasta primavera, I collapsed into my tent.

The next day was for more hiking. If you continue along the creek for four miles, doing multiple creek crossings, you’ll reach Beaver Falls. These aren’t the big-drop falls like Havasu and Mooney, but rather like a cascading staircase.

The sun was shining down into the canyon when we arrived, and it was like spring break. People were hanging out in all of the pools, soaking in the scenery.

The water was much too cold for my taste, and is around 70 degrees year-round. I knew this would probably be the only time on this trip that I would possibly be open to getting in the freezing water, and I needed to take advantage of that if I wanted a “shower” at all over the course of these three days. I slowly crept in the water, walked to where the sun was shining in full force, and dunked myself.

I was a swimmer growing up. I can hold my breath for a while. But competition pools are typically kept at 80-82 degrees. I don’t think I’ve ever felt water this cold. It literally took my breath away, and I physically could not stay underwater for more than three seconds without feeling my lungs convulse and expel all my air. I’ve never experienced anything like it in my life! It was the fastest and least productive “shower” I’ve ever taken.

I ran out of that water, and huddled in my towel. I sat in the sun trying to get rid of my goosebumps for the next hour, then the sun disappeared behind the canyon wall. It was only mid afternoon, but that was it for the sun!

The pools cleared out immediately with the falls now in the shade. That was alright by me, as I was able to get pristine people-less photos.

We decided to hike a little past the falls to find where the trail continues to get to the confluence of the creek and the Colorado River. I think it’s an additional 2 miles to the confluence, but it isn’t nearly as heavily traveled so trail-finding would be most of the adventure. From the photos I’ve seen, it looks like a lot of people just use the river to get there. Maybe I’ll bring a little floaty next time.

We headed back to camp, only to find the wind had picked up and deposited fine dust all over and inside everything, including under our rain tarps, through the tent mesh, and into our sleeping bags (…how??). Tip for next time – only bring a hammock.

After clean-up and dinner, we hiked back up to the first fall – Havasu – to get some night shots. I was messing around and had no clue what I was doing. There were so many people randomly lighting the falls, so I just kept taking photos and crossed my fingers that people wouldn’t light it too much or too little.

The last day was the hike-out day. We spent the morning relaxing at Havasu Falls and procrastinating starting the hike out. By noon, it was time, and we gazed at the falls one final time.

The hike out wasn’t as bad as I thought. It was nice to make a few friends along the way.

We made it 7-8 miles before finding a nice shady spot for a break. We mentally prepared ourselves for that final mile and 1000 ft elevation gain.

Maybe it’s from hiking around here so much, but it wasn’t anything close to being as bad as I imagined. I never thought I’d say this, but it was harder going down. I also had the pleasure of seeing what was possibly a wild horse, or maybe a tribal horse that got loose. It trotted past us like it owned the trail, and there weren’t any humans around. Hmmm.

We finished the hike, got our cars, and wondered why the parking lot was so deserted. They must not issue as many permits during the weekdays. We decided to have one last dinner together at the Caverns campground. A beer and a veggie burger never tasted so good.

We all said our goodbyes and headed off in separate directions. One to Las Vegas, three to Phoenix, and myself to somewhere. I actually wasn’t sure. I was hoping to make it to Mojave National Preserve to camp, but it was after 7 PM, and this early bird was fading fast.

Funny story, I made it to the first big town after being on Route 66 for an hour. It was Kingman, AZ, and I was too tired to keep driving. When I moved to California three years ago, I had planned on camping with CL all the way out here. After two nights in a tent, I could tell he was over it, so I called the only pet-friendly hotel I knew of with a location everywhere and no pet fee…Motel 6. I booked those motels for the rest of the trip, including one in Kingman, AZ.

I slowed down as I was getting close to my Motel 6, and saw next door that the Motel 8 (maybe it’s called Super 8 nowadays) had their price and free wifi on their sign. I did a quick search on my phone and saw that Motel 6 was only a few dollars cheaper, for possibly not free wifi, definitely no free breakfast, and not to mention outdoor room entrances. Am I the only one who doesn’t like the world to see which room I enter into when traveling solo?

I splurged on the Super 8, got my discrete indoor room entrance, free wifi, and even a free breakfast (take that, Motel 6! Just kidding, it will always have a special place in my heart).

The funny thing was, that after almost four days without a proper shower, I still felt like I could have spent another day or two at Havasupai. I slept fairly well that night, woke up with a smile, drove back to Fresno, and returned to work the next day feeling elated.

Even with the tourists, the hard work getting to and from the campground, the helicopter noise, and all the dust, it was one of the best camping trips I’d been on. My “natural high” lasted for several days.

Nature really is the best therapy. I can not wait to do this trip again, but this time for more than two nights.