Chasing Waterfalls

Last Friday I finally made it to the Grand Canyon, pulling into the park in mid afternoon. I luckily snagged one of the few remaining campsites (being Memorial Day weekend, obviously the Gods were on my side) and I set up camp. After a quick nap, I drove around to the different viewing points prepared to be dazzled. And while I wasn't dissapointed, I have to say that I wasn't overwhelmed. The Grand Canyon is one of those places that just can't possibly live up to the hype, and I was probably more awestruck with Arches National Park than I was with the Canyon. Plus, it was so choked with loud and noisy annoying tourists that it was hard to find some peace and serenity to just sit and enjoy the view. But I had other things on my mind - I was on a quest to find out more information on a place called Havasu Falls.

About three weeks before the trip began, I was watching the Travel Channel with my Mom, and they were profiling a place called Havasu Falls, near the Grand Canyon. People were swimming in these deep blue-green pools at the bottom of these enormous waterfalls, and I knew that I had to go there. I've never been to Hawaii, and this was the closest thing you can find in the states that would compare. So it was probably unfair to the Grand Canyon that the whole time I was there, all I could think about was the falls.

I went to the ranger station and inquired about what it would take to get there. I already knew some of the information from reading on the internet, but I wanted to hear it first hand. Yes, it involved a long hike, and you could either camp when you got there or stay at the lodge. You could either hike out, or take a helicopter or horse. And yes, it was absolutely worth it. The ranger assured me I could make the hike in, so with my confidence reinforced, I started the 191 mile drive away from the Canyon towards Havasupai Hilltop.

I got to the Hilltop at around 3pm on Saturday, and it was packed with cars. Luckily I found a spot near the trailhead, and I started to prepare my pack. I had called ahead to get a campground for Sunday night, but was told they were booked through July. Dissapointed, I called the lodge, and was informed they had a room available - the cost with taxes and eveything would be $178 for the night. I balked for a second, but since this was probably the one thing I wanted to do on my trip more than anything else, I went ahead and reserved a room. I bedded down for the night in my car, ready to wake up with the sun and begin my journey.

I awoke at 5am, gathered my things, and hit the trail at 6. Now, anyone who knows me knows that when it comes to physical activity, I'm hardly the first person to say "Let's go for a hike." So it's probably surprising to hear what I had to do to get to the fallls. The Havasupai tribe owns the land the falls are on, and in order to get to the village, it's an 8 mile hike. It's mostly downhill and not that strenous, but it is long, and I was carrying an 30lb pack. I got to the village in 3 1/2 hours, pretty good time considering I'm not in the best of shape. From the village, it's another 1.5 miles to the first waterfall, 3 miles to the third fall, which is as far as I went. Then, of course, it's another miles back to the village at the end of the day. So all told, I hiked a whopping 14 miles on Sunday. It probably goes without saying that Monday was one of the most sore days of my life, and I'd do it again in a second.

After 8 miles, you reach the Havasupai (which means People of the Blue-Green Waters) village, and it aint no Disney version of a Native American reservation. It's a poor, dirt covered full of unhappy looking people and about a million dogs. There are dogs EVERYWHERE, and they're all hungry and rooting around in trash bins looking for food. They're the kind of dogs that look cute from a distance, but when they come closer you're convinced if you pet them you'll get several diseases. It's hard to tell if the people are bitter and unfriendly, or if they're just typically Native American. They don't speak unless spoken to, and when they do speak they use an economy of language. If you were a fan of "Northern Exposure," one of the greatest shows that was ever on television, you'll remember the Native American character of Marilyn. You could never tell if she resented white people or if she was just shy, and that's remarkably similar to the way the Havasupai acted. I imagine they resent all these tourists coming and invading their land during the summer months, just like the white people long ago invaded and stole their land before graciously giving back a fraction of what was taken. Then again, without the dollars we spend in tourism, they wouldn't be able to survive, so there's definitely a love-hate thing going on.

After a quick breakfast, I unloaded my things in my room and headed for the falls. I arrived at the first one, Navajo Falls, at about 11:30. You're on this dusty trail, and then it drops down into a mini canyon where you cross over a quaint wooden bridge, go around a rock, and out of nowhere you're struck with this amazing waterfall with blue water pools, and it's just breathtaking.














The next waterfall after that is Havasu Falls, which probably is the biggest in terms of volumes of rushing water. On either side of Havasu is a beach area, so it's the popular in terms of people just hanging out. There's a big boulder to the left of the falls which is great for jumping off, just beware because you're jumping into a current that wants to pull you back under the falls.















The last of the falls I went to was Mooney Falls, named for James Mooney, who died trying to carry an injured friend out of this particular canyon. Had I known this story before hiking down into Mooney, I might have got a better sense of what I was in for. You descend into Mooney Falls from this tall rock path, and there's a sign saying "Caution: Proceed at Your Own Risk." No big deal, I think, it's typical to see signs like that all over the place. All of the sudden, you come across this drilled out cave in the rock, which you descend down into. Not that scary, but a little tricky. You come out of these caves and you're looking almost straight down this wet, waterfall sprayed cliff, and you have to rock climb straight down, hanging on only to metal bars and chains that have been strategically places every couple of feet. If you're short, like me, these strategically placed holds aren't so strategically placed, and at several points I thought I that I might die. Everything is wet and slippery, and one wrong move you're falling thirty feet onto the rocks below. Getting to the bottom is one of the greatest things in the world, until you realize that in order to you leave, you have to go back up. Trecherous, but worth it. There's a rope swing at the bottom that drops you 15 feet off a boulder, and no matter what age you are, you feel like you're 10 years old.



















All told, I spent about 7 hours exploring and swimming in the falls. It was by far the highlight of the trip so far, and I can't wait to go back with a group of friends. With some better planning, it can be a very cheap trip: $1o per night for camping, $30 one time fee to be on the land, and $85 to helicopter out at the end of your trip. After 14 miles of hiking, the helicopter fee was the best money I've ever spent. My computer is starting to fry in the Sedona sun, so I'll post more pictures a little later.