Familiar Donkey Territory

Feeling buoyed from watching the first grand prix of the year, we took the afternoon to pack. We said our goodbyes to Deb and Cleo gave us a look of utter abandonment through the bedroom window as we drove off. With only an hour of daylight left, we went to our old stomping ground, Lake Pleasant. The full moon helped light the way as we drove along the back roads and our headlights lit up the flocks of donkeys dispersed throughout the desert brush.

We passed by a few campers having fires, romping down familiar washboarded roads, ignoring the growing number of anti-fun signs. We settled on a nice bluff sitting a dozen feet above the waterline that we had all to ourselves.

Sadly, the water level was very, very low. Dan got a fire going while I heated up some pasta Deb had sent us away with. We sat by the crackling fire and when Dan was done eating, he started playing around with his camera while I got to chatting, first with Dad, then having a much-needed catch up with Jon.

Dan was in bed by the time the fire had turned to coals and I’d stopped yapping. I crawled in with him and the distant donkey cries sent us to sleep.

Grand Canyon Inn

It was nice to wake up knowing we weren’t in a rush to get anywhere. As light crept into the van, we woke up slowly. As I made breakfast, donkeys provided the soundtrack and large birds sunning their wings were the view.

We ate our egg scramble wandering around camp and watching the few boats that had ventured onto the water. After Dan had a quiet moment to himself sat down by the water, we were off. The romping was much more enjoyable in the sunlight and the donkeys were calm as we drove by.

After nearly an hour of washboarding, we breathed a sigh of relief when we hit tarmac. Dan took us on north on Highway 17 and we climbed fuel pump hill before heading northwest to Prescott. I’d never been and the tourist town represented fond childhood memories for Dan. We parked at the courthouse square and wandered the streets in search of lunch.

After abandoning our want to sit outside in the sun due to a crisp winter wind, we settled at a pub with a window seat. The food was typical pub fare and we both ate too much. We avoided the spots of snow on the walk back to the car. Only days ago, Prescott had been on the news getting dumped on with snow. I took over driving and took us back onto highway 89. The drive out of Prescott was beautiful with a very Joshua Tree-like feel. Once out of town, we left Cactus behind for higher altitude bushes and very pale winter-dried grass.

Knowing there wouldn’t be much in the way of services in the near future, we stopped for fuel once we reached highway 40, then we were on the home stretch. Once we turned onto highway 66 (yes, that’s the historic route), we left civilization behind. The Grand Canyon Caverns Inn was the first sign of life in 10 miles. It was also our destination for the night. We checked in for the Havasupai hike without issue then checked into our hotel room.

The whole place had a tourist-trap feel and we learnt real-quick that the off-season was still in full swing. Room #10 was quaint but when the toilet couldn’t refill and it took two full ice buckets to get it to shut-up, we thought we’d better ask for help. We soon met the maintenance man who was lovely and explained that the Inn was under new management, that he was new and they’re coming out of the winter season, during which they completely shut down. After inspecting the toilet, he explained that the input valve was clogged due to a poor decision in winterizing the plumbing. Room #37 was to be our new home, but the maintenance guy had to install a new toilet handle first! Fully settled now, despite the nearby RV park we could have been in, we were happy to sit on our bed and watch cooking shows as the late winter wind whipped at the trees outside. After stepping outside to enjoy the colorful sunset, I could tell Dan was getting antsy for dinner.

He’d developed quite the appetite lately so I had to get to work. Dan kept me company out at the van where I whipped up a veggie curry intended to warm our bellies and energize our legs for tomorrow. We were already packed, so I finished us out by putting our lunch ingredients together, then more cooking shows got us to bed time.

Into the Canyon

With an alarm at 7am, we were showered and out the door before 8am. We turned onto Indian highway 16 and Google maps told us our destination would be in 60 miles. We drove through flat dry desert, then pine forest with at least a foot of snow in some places! We passed by the parked snow plough that had obviously done work.

A few miles from the trailhead, we were stopped by a man at the roadside who only had to walk three steps out of his camper’s front door to greet us. He asked to see our wristbands and we promptly put them on. Towards the end of the road, we were stopped by a band of road-going donkeys who were in no rush to get out o the way.

At the trailhead, both sides of the road were lined with cars. Silly me for thinking the numbers would be limited by the 40 or so spaces in the actual parking lot. It was cold so we parked in the sun for breakfast. A security gaurd soon ventured over to check us in. He updated us on the tourism activities – they’d been opened for only a month for the first time in over two years (flooding and COVID) and due to the cold weather, there’d been a lot of cancellations. When I asked, he told us that Supai Village below was home to about 350 residents, of which he was one and we were about to walk his twice weekly commute. We had a delicious brekkie of egg and veggie wrap with a cuppa tea for Dan.

We were fully packed and walking at 10:30am. At the trailhead, we passed by half a dozen mules packed and waiting for their journey into the canyon and I was surprised to see dogs hanging around.

On the trail, we barely got going before we had to stop for mules coming up.

Unlike Grand Canyon proper, these mules only take your packs, not people. This group had at least 8 dogs trailing behind! All of them plodding at their own pace and completely uninterested in us. At first we thought they were the shepherds but it seemed they were just along for the walk.

More mules as we descended the first steep mile, but we were always happy for the break. This was obviously rush hour for the upwards commute!

For the first mile or two, we were surrounded by other hikers but soon found our place amongst the pack. Dan took lots of photos as we took the stairs down.

An hour in, we started saying “Hi” to hikers coming up. It was about then I started counting. During the 10 mile hike down, we saw 111 hikers and about 30 pack mules. Each of those represent $100 per day so not a bad racket for the Supai villagers!

Talking to a guy who’d done the hike multiple times, he said $30 had been the going rate 10 years ago and there was no booking system, just a check-in at the village. This is a far cry from today’s system of online booking and wristbands.

A third of the way into the canyon, the stone turned to gravel and we started walking through a wash. Narrow and tall the walls rose above us red in anger. When I asked a group of ladies if it was warm down the bottom, they replied with “It’s warmer!” and complemented me on my light baggy pants. I didn’t envy them in their black tights.

We stopped for a snack under the shade of a tree and the rocks were cold under our bums. We’d timed it perfectly for the downward-heading mule packs to go by. It was the Amazon Prime mules first, then the shop mules, loaded with milk crates of Gatorade. That and Doritos seem to be the local cuisine.

Onwards and downwards,the gravel turned to sand and we strived to look up as much as we were looking down at our feet to ensure our footing. Dan put his camera away about this time when it told him to replace the battery pack. He only had one spare and we were yet to see a waterfall.

We probably should have stopped for lunch before reaching the village but pushed on and found ourselves walking alongside mule yards and a sign that told us to put masks on. We obliged but felt utterly silly walking on a deserted dirt road with nobody in sight. Our first sign of life was a pair of police-looking guys in an ATV. They gave us a friendly wave despite their image of law enforcement. We passed many mule-yards and a few sad looking houses before making it into the village proper.

There was trash everywhere and each yard was full of broken up rubbish and shit. There wasn’t much happening and judging by the satellite dishes atop each roof, everyone was probably inside watching TV like the rest of America. We checked in at the travel office, which wasn’t actually necessary but a lady gave us the lo-down on what to expect next.

There were dogs everywhere and most kept to themselves but a lovely little thing came up to us with a bad eye infection. They all looked like puppies but we soon decided they were full grown miniatures. While no two dogs looked similar, they all had one thing in common – they were pretty dosile, just going about their business at a slow pace. I sat outside on a bench while Dan checked out the store. He came out with an AZ Ice Tea and a bag of Doritos. Very American of him. It was clear from the oversized bodies of the locals that he was eating their diet. The shuffling of feet through the village square meant sand hung in the air and with school just letting out, two kids waited to be picked up.

There was a huge new building going up, no doubt paid for by the government and hauled down piece by piece. Mules and ATVs were the transportation of choice and they all moved slowly. Still desperate for lunch, we walked past the cafe and other masked up tourists, the church and the closed lodge (not the season yet) and past more houses. Along the road there was old infrastructure for water transport – half pipes and dug-out trenches. Two shiny water tanks sitting above the village perched on a canyon ledge rendered them redundant. More ATV traffic came by us as we walked out of the “suburbs” and met up with the creek again. Finally a good spot for lunch. Dan tested the water temperature and the advertised 70*F seemed to be accurate. Chairs out! While I made wraps, Dan wandered off and found a flock of horses and a shithead donkey.

They ran up and down the bush behind us either playing or fighting. When the donkey took a bite of a horse’s tail and nearly copped a hoof to the face, we figured it was fighting. A few hikers passed us as we ate our fresh lunch. It was nearly 3:30pm so time we made the final push.

The last hour was easy going but slow because we started coming up on waterfalls. We heard them first, then came around a corner and saw the cascades of Fifty Foot Falls and Navajo falls. It was stunning and yet we knew this wasn’t the main event. We carried on, knowing we’d have more time to explore on a later day.

After following signs to a newer trail that avoided an eroded section, we stopped to take photos of Najavo falls and were soon getting yelled at. Some lady asked (shouted) if we were part of the tribe or department of interior employees, when we said no to both, she ripped into us telling us to stay on trail. I tried to tell her we’d been on trail and who was she anyway but she was soon yelling “I apologize” at us as she walked by, not breaking her stride. Gross. A little further down the hill, we came upon an unexpected fry bread stand. Nestled right by the trail with picnic tables by the creek, Dan didn’t need telling twice.

Five minutes later we had a hot fry bread in our hands topped with Nutella, strawberries and bananas.With a mule station nearby, a few dogs came up to sit near us and while they weren’t the begging type, I’m sure they were ready to move in when we were done. Further on down the trail, we heard more yelling. Reluctant to turn around and get reamed a second time, when we finally did, it was a pair of hikers informing us we’d lost a shoe. So we had! Dan had switched to Tevas at lunch and one of his shoes had come undone from his backpack. Whoops! Lucky those people were right behind us!

Now we really heard waterfalls as we continued our decent. With people all around us trekking with day bags or less, we felt like the new people in town and everyone looked on with a knowing smile. Then we rounded a corner at the top of some stairs and saw Havasu Falls. This is the namesake of the 10 mile hike.

Wow-e-wow-wow. Not only is the water turquoise and the falls magnificent, the most breathtaking part is the lack of attention it had. There was no one in sight, neither at the base or where we were. Phenomenal.

We didn’t stop too long, with the high canyon walls, 5pm felt like 7pm so we were keen to find our home for the next few days. After passing by another fry bread stand, we descended steep stairs to the campground.

A nicely built bathroom marked the start of the mile-long camping area. From what I’d read, there were no specific sites – just open area where you could make anywhere your home. I was therefore surprised to find picnic tables all over and clearly defined camping spots. I was also flabbergasted by the hoards of people camped right at the start where everybody had to walk through. Dan lead the way now and we both knew we’d find our place away from the crowds at the opposite end of the camping area. We were right. At the end we came upon Mooney Falls which gave Havasu a run for its money and there were tents abounds. It was dinner time for most people so we were seeing the campground at its fullest.

We were tempted to pitch up at the top of the falls where we found a flat patch but that would mean being in sight of at least a dozen people so that didn’t suit us. We had to get on the other side of the river if we wanted solitude. Now the real adventure began. We could see deserted picnic tables on the opposite shore but soon figured out we’d have to get wet to get there. The huge flooding they’d recently experienced meant that small bridges had gone astray and picnic tables were lodged in trees in the middle of the river so we had to be creative. Dan, already in his Tevas, led the way across. He got knee deep and apart from a section in the middle that was fast flowing, he made it across the rocky shelves just fine. I de-shoed but wasn’t bothered to take my pack off to put my Tevas on and crossed bare foot. Dan came back across pack-less to take my shoes and offer me a balancing hand. At the fast flow section, it all went to shit when I let go of his hand and he dropped one of my shoes. Well, off it went down the river! He went off to salvage it while I finished crossing. Thankfully it got caught in some brush which slowed it down enough for him to fish it out with a stick. I’d emptied my pockets ready to jump in, not wanting to hike out in my sandals.

As we collected our packs, a couple camped on the popular side of the river sat to attention and applauded our performance and we responded with low bows. At least we’d given them something to laugh about. Now the real fun, camp hunt! We dumped our packs at a picnic table and wandered up and down the river. There was nobody in sight! Wanting to keep our privacy to a maximum, we parked up at the very end and having seen others starting campfires despite the no-campfire rule, we were excited to warm our recently wet shins by some flames and collected some firewood. It was easy pickings thanks to all of the dry flood debris scattered around. We shifted the picnic table to a position of our liking and called it good.

We still had plenty of daylight left and nowhere to be in a hurry so I posted up by the river with my feet in the water to give them some relief. When Dan started setting up the tent, I got up to join him. To my horror, as I stood, my feet slipped down the bank and I went into the drink. My horror came from knowing my phone was in the pocket of my chair. I looked back as I fell and caught the chair as it came in with me and pushed it back to the bank as I went in up to my armpits. Dan dropped what he was doing as I yelled out and he was all hands to help me from sliding further into the river. I grabbed his hands and asked if my phone was in the chair pocket. When he said no, I let go of him and started clutching as my pockets and my surroundings, hoping to find my phone. Dan yelled at me to grab on and that did it, I grabbed his hand and he pulled me up the steep bank. My phone was safely in the chair pocket so I’d panicked for nothing. We both started laughing and I looked down at my wet self. I was covered in sand and my hoodie was a heavy wet mess.

I was also cold. Despite the modest water temperature, the sun’s warmth had well and truly left us so I feared getting a chill before bed. This was also the point where I realized I’d left my thermal pants behind. Bugger. Thankfully Dan had a spare set of pants so I donned them and made do with a shirt and my down jacket. Not ideal, but I wouldn’t be shivering through the night. That made the fire our next priority so once the tent was up, we got that going and sat by it until my toes were warm. Before it got properly dark we ventured to the nearby cliff where Mooney Falls cascaded down to the level below and enjoyed a bench placed perfectly by the falling river.

Again we were amazed at the lack of people about. There were so many details to take in. The depth of the canyon, the evidence that the whole shelf before us used to be a waterfall of Niagara scale and there were old ladders and stairs carved into the soft rock where people used to go up and down! Unbelievable! It looked utterly impassable now but the remnants still remained.

As the whiffs of cloud in the sky started changing colour, we were back at our fire for dinner. As soon as we had full tummies, our exhaustion from walking 10 miles into a canyon hit us and we were in the tent with the fly half down so the stars were the last things we saw before we slept.

Beaver Falls

We’d watched the moon cross the canyon whenever we woke from restless sleep, first lighting up the wall to our left, then on the right just as the sun had done. It must have only been visible for a few hours before the canyon walls hid it’s face again. Dan put the fly up some time in the early morning when both of us got too cold and that gave us a good last few hours of rest. I was out of bed first but it wasn’t early.

I must have poked my head out at 8:30am and I wasn’t excited about the wind blowing through camp. My toes had been on the verge of being properly cold all night so I was immediately thinking of a morning fire. Once I was up and moving around though, it didn’t seem necessary. I had a wash in the river, without an unwanted swim this time, then started collecting firewood. Dan was up then and keen for a cuppa. I boiled some water and had oats while he sipped tea. His round of oats followed and we contemplated what our day should entail. Despite our soreness, we figured that some exercise would be best in this cold weather. The cloud above us was thick and it looked like it would stay that way so it wasn’t a good day for lazing about looking at waterfalls. I made us a packed lunch while Dan fashioned a day-bag out of his sleeping bag sack. With lunch, water, snacks and Dan’s camera packed, we sauntered off very gingerly to find an alternative river crossing to yesterday’s option.

There were only two more campers on this side of the river whose camp we had to walk through to look for crossings. When the trail came to a dead end we made ourselves a bridge with a long debris log and Dan put it in place. We were thankful for the warm temperature of the water this early in the cold morning.

Once across, we walked through many abandoned campsites, it seemed everyone was already out and about for the day. At Mooney Falls again we really let the view sink in. We clambered around on the dried red rock and sat in different spots just soaking in the view and the falls were stunning from every angle.

Dan found a “descend at own risk sign” and not far from it, a set of stairs leading into a cave. It must have been the old path down that we’d seen from our bench last night.

I didn’t need telling twice. Off I went into the cave. There were chains on one side and another couple in front of me. They had gloves on and were moving determinedly steadily downwards. This was actually a way down?!?!?!?

Dan came through the caves, saw the slippery stairs below us and said no thank you. He went back to find the actual trail. I continued on, giving the people ahead of me plenty of room. Slippery as it looked, it wasn’t too bad. Towards the bottom, the slippery stairs cut into the rock were replaced by moss-covered ladders that looked nearly 100 years old. I concentrated on each foot and hand hold, took it slowly and made it down ok. It made me forget my body was sore all over! Once across to the island beach, I could see many people coming down.

I got talking to Malcom and Martina, the couple who’d been in front of me. From Phoenix, they’d been trying for permits for 8 years and opted to have mules to carry their gear down. They said this time of year is a great time to visit since the summer time is stupid busy. I took a photo of them, then wished them a happy hike just as I heard Dan whistling from on high. He asked me if the climb was ok using a hand signal – thumbs up or down? I gave him a thumbs up then gave signal that a fat person could do it. He joined onto a queue of people descending. I watched closely as he came down, waiting patiently behind those in front of him. When I greeted him, I was curious to hear what changed his mind. He’d walked  along the upper cliffs and discovered there was no other way down. This was it. Damn! Everyone used gardening gloves which was cute.

Leaving Mooney falls behind us, we started off into the canyon towards Beaver falls. Within the first fifty meters we were asked for directions. As soon as the path disappeared into the water, these tourists lost their confidence. With our suitable footwear, we obviously looked like we knew what we were doing. It wasn’t the last time. Twice more when cairns marked the way, we were asked to confirm which was the right way.

After the first creek crossing, we didn’t see anyone. When the trail diverted away from the river we crossed a serious field of dead raspberry bushes which reminded me of the thorny fields Simba was exiled to in The Lion King. They were so thick a venture off the path was not possible.

Once we came out the other side, I quietly told Dan to stop where he was. There was a healthy-looking ram on the trail ahead. He blended in so well with the surroundings that it took Dan a while to see what I was talking about. He saw the ram about the same time it saw us and as he groped for his camera, the ram started rushing straight at us. I told Dan calmly that “he’s coming at us now” and we moved off the path as gently as we could so he could prance by. The bushes didn’t give us much room, but he seemed happy to just be away from us. His horns were gorgeous and his body the same color dark gray as the bushes he ducked into. I’d never seen a beast so moderate in size with such large horns. Once we were sure he’d trotted away, we carried on our way.

The trail was easy going and thankfully flat which gave our sore descending muscles a rest. It was the slowest we’d ever hiked 3.5 miles. Having left at 10:30am, we got to Beaver falls way past 2pm. We were greeted by a native who’d posted up with a fire. He “checked us in” and was checking another group out as they left. Safety I guess, making sure no one is left behind at the end of the day. A lady from that group asked where I got my pants. Oh, the attention.

We walked past the few picnic tables and clearings dotted around the place and perched ourselves on some ledges above the cascading falls and the deepest, bluest pool of water we’d seen so far. We were nicely out of the wind to enjoy our wraps and snacks.

Dan spotted the first evidence of rigging equipment in the form of a piton, single carabiner and a sad looking sling that lead down to the water’s edge. No thanks!

Without many options nearby, Dan had to find a way up the canyon wall to find a bathroom. Once he was done, he yelled at me to follow. He’d found a sign telling us we’d entered the Grand Canyon National Park.

We walked down the trail a little and saw were Havasu Creek joined Beaver Canyon, which was completely dry, then joined forces to form one canyon heading North West. We figured out that if you followed that canyon for another 10 or so miles, you’d be at the Colorado River. Not today. We found a neat little cave around the corner that served as our turnaround point. It was nearly 3:30pm at this point and what sun was shining through the persistent clouds was well and truly out of the canyon. We checked out with the host and started on back.

While we still didn’t really see anyone, we did have to wait patiently behind two slower ladies at a short ladder section, but that just gave us time to appreciate the only palm tree we’d seen. It was beautiful, but totally out of place growing right next to aspens and cactii.

We kept an eye out, but there was no sign of our ram on the way back. To our surprise, we were back to Mooney Falls within an hour, though we weren’t trying to be fast. The walk had just been so pretty on the way out that we must have stopped a lot. At the base of Mooney falls, we lingered a long while taking in the power of the water. I wandered over to the abandoned picnic table that was growing barnacles in the shallows of the pool and tried to simply see the falls from as many angles as possible.

Just breathtaking. With the sun fading, it we properly time to climb up the ladders and sketchy stairs now, but it was easy going up.

Dan’s tummy was grumbling so he pulled me away from the cliffs as soon as we’d topped out on the stairs. It was pre-dinner time! We got a fire going quick smart and put on the stove for dinner water. When we ran out of gas with only another half-bottle, we had the bright idea to use the fire to boil water! We had our dinner cooking within five minutes thanks to the hot coals.

Half-full, we left the warmth of our fire to sit on our private bench. It was that time of day when people were milling about admiring Mooney and others were arriving late from their hike in and setting up camp. We had such a great vantage point and there was so much to look at. We watched Mooney a while, then sat back on our bench to watch the sky and the canyon walls change color.

Back to the fire, I journaled, Dan fiddled with the fire and we let our bodies be warmed. We had another round of dinner near 8:30 then hit the sack an hour later. The canyon walls were still dark so we figured the moon wouldn’t be making an appearance until much later.

Rest

Did we miss a call? A local and his loyal miniature dog had walked through our camp last night while we were having our fire shining a torch, seemingly doing the rounds. He hadn’t said anything but was he supposed to have told us to pack up? Everybody around us was gone! A big group camped across the river and basically every other campsite that had been visible to us was now vacant. And I poked my head out of the tent before 8am! It seemed a very early start to pack up and hike out. We had some gentle meandering planned today and with blue sky above us, I was excited for some proper warmth. Maybe even shorts weather? We planned to stay at camp with a morning fire until the sun peeked over the canyon walls. Unfortunately the clouds had the sky covered by then so we were disappointed. After breakfast, we packed our essentials into my hiking bag and made off to the crossing bridge we’d made yesterday. We had to walk through more camps to get to it, but we found it nicely intact.

While Dan took a bathroom break, I took the opportunity to improve it, dragging another big log to make it a dry experience.The bridge put us right in the middle of a new camp but they were out so we didn’t disturb them. We walked away from Mooney Falls and back towards Havasu Falls. We continued to be intrigued by what Dan called the Vegas Strip where people were camped on top of each other right on the trail, but at least they were close to the bathrooms?

We took every side trail we saw and after a few dead ends, we were rewarded with a lovely riverside trail to Havasu. We rounded the corner and there she was in all her brilliance. Having adjusted to the beauty of the canyon, we were pretty quick to say that Mooney is better despite this waterfall being the namesake of the area. It was sunny here and we were amazed to have the whole clearing to ourselves. After exploring around the caves nearby, we parked up front and center in full sun and I just sat.

I just sat and watched, listened and got lost in thought. Tiny white balls of mist floated through the air and touched my face, I would watch individual drops of water as they plunged down the falls, I found details high on the canyon walls that I got lost in. I tried to capture it completely in my memory – the feeling of peace, of beauty, of solitude.

Dan was off somewhere behind me making a small fire for a cup of tea then he joined me in the sun. We must have sat there for at least an hour and didn’t hear a sound other than the falls. When the clouds covered the sun again, the cold crept in, as did some people. We took that as our queue and packed it up to explore some more falls.

Dan had counted his pennies and we had $18 for a fry bread at the top of Havasu. This was a competing vendor who had cheaper prices ($5) but smaller fry. It was delicious and we had one each, sitting on top of Havasu watching the crowds grow below. A space that we’d had all to ourselves only moments ago!

Fueled up, we meandered up the path. Taking more side trails, we ended up on a little scramble adventure that took us riverside then back up to where the ground was eroding badly. It was a warm-up for what was to come. With no one in sight, we took the naughty path by the eroded edge but stayed well away from the fence put up to deter people. Our next side trail took us down a heavily man-made road that was long dis-used but looked like it may have been a boat launch in a previous life. We couldn’t quite figure it out. The road, then narrow and half washed away trail, lead us to a nice flat pink rock where we posted up for lunch. Navajo falls were to our left and steep canyon walls right in front. We ate and admired the different canyon features and listened to the birdsong.

Then the sun came out. The clouds that had seemed so thick and steadfast before were nowhere to be seen and there was only blue above us. With our bellies full, we lay back on the warming rock and let the sun soak our bodies as we closed our eyes. I used Dan’s camera case as my pillow and he used my folded elbow as his. We couldn’t have been more comfortable. When we were ready to go again, we ventured back the way we’d come and with the sun still shining, I picked out a pool that I fancied a swim in. Taking another trail down to it, I was at the banks in no time, ready to de-robe. When I turned around to see Dan poking his head through some bushes, beckoning me to come his way, I obediently followed.

He’d seen an arrow spray painted on the wall and so that was the direction we went. We were on what obviously used to be a trail but it soon became overgrown with flood debris. Not dissuaded, we pushed on, me struggling a little to get the backpack through, but with my head down and shoulders low, I pushed through everything. Pushing through one last section of brush, we were rewarded.

We were right at the base of Fifty Foot Falls. So named presumably for their height, this was a set of long falls that ran gently over the stalactite formations above us. It felt special to be so close.

I devised a way across to the other side of the wide river where I thought i saw a trail that must link us up with the usual tourist route. It was a brilliant wander through knee deep, nearly warm water and we praised our Tevas at every step. What an appropriate shoe for this sort of activity!

The mist flew in our faces at this range and we soaked it all in. It felt refreshing on our sun-baked cheeks. At the other side, there wasn’t really a trail, or a gentle incline we could walk up. The shortest path to land was through some thick brush so Dan devised a plan and we lay big sticks across the branches to carry our weight across them. Then we were faced with a steep sand castle. It was almost impossible to grab onto anything without it breaking off and if your foot slipped, you were taking some of the mountain off. We divided and found two separate paths up the slippery slide, me using my knees to get through. Atop that small mountain, we then had some more bush bashing to get back to the path.

The more mule tracks we found the better we felt. Once on a defined path, we thought we were home free, but no we weren’t because we were on the wrong side of the river! This was naughty because it is strictly forbidden to go onto the Navajo private land so I was scared. When we came up on the river for the first time and saw a tribe member walking along the defined trail on the other side, we kept quiet so we weren’t seen. The water, though calm, was armpit deep and we had a pack to keep dry. We back tracked and found a knee-deep spot and though it meant more bushwhacking once we were across, we were soon on the legal path again. What an adventure!

Today was supposed to be a gentle relaxed day! It was home time now so we wandered gently home in high spirits, looking forward to our beautiful secluded camp. As we descended, we left the sun-soaked open part of the canyon behind for our narrow walls and looked forward to pre-dinner at our bench to watch the walls change color. We did just that and also got to watch the late afternoon hikers returning from Beaver falls and taking on the ladders and chains.

I stayed out there reading with my legs tucked warmly inside my sleeping bag while Dan returned to camp to start a fire. He came out to retrieve me half and hour later, obviously wanting company. I joined him, but he was fading fast and retired early so that his weary body could rest in a horizontal position. I stayed up and stoked the fire, reading and journaling. When I looked up, I drew in a breath. The number of stars over our heads that night was 100 fold what it had been our first night. The lateness of the moon was bringing out the more subtle parts of the universe. With my feet warmed by the fire, those stars burning over my head and crisp, clear water flowing and falling meters away, I felt pretty special.

The Hike Out

When I ducked out of the tent for a pee in the middle of the night, there were no more stars overhead thanks to the thick clouds. I stashed our bags under the tent in case of rain. We were up early since Dan had such an early night but he was well rested, which was good preparation for the vertical hike facing us.

Despite the lack of sun, the morning wasn’t too cold but that didn’t stop us having our morning fire. Dan was on fire duty while I slowly packed up. We were both pretty stoked when I found Dan’s lost earring on the floor of tent.

Just as we were closing up our bags the first drops of rain fell. It was only a sprinkle and we thought that if it carried on like this throughout the day, it would make for a nice hike. With the fire out and our gear packed, we went to our bench for one last look at Mooney Falls. It’s very unlikely we’ll ever return to this place so we took in as much as we could.

It was 9am and we kept our Tevas on for the walk out with gentle rain falling on our heads. The Tevas were an unnecessary precaution, so well practiced we were at our river crossings. At the campground entrance, we donned our shoes and tightened our bag straps for the steep walk in front of us.

The first hill past Havasu falls was a shock to the legs, especially with our packs on. We took it slow and I was happy to wait at the falls while Dan worked a prickle out of his shoe. We lingered a while for our last look at Havasu where we’d had that session of peace yesterday.

As we entered the village, we had a small pack of local dogs for company. With no other humans around, it seemed they had their own agenda which had absolutely nothing to do with us. We didn’t bother with our masks this time and nobody minded.

We heard a helicopter come in to land and by the time we’d gotten into town proper, it had already taken off. It was very obvious that a group of people had been dropped off. It was an Indian family that were dressed way too nicely with bags way too new to have just hiked ten miles.

The helicopter turned out to be our company for the entire hike out. We counted – it made twenty-five round trips in the time it took us to get out. Sometimes it carried a cargo load underneath it strung from a rope, sometimes not. To think we could have had a ride in and out! But why would we want that? It was probably stupid expensive and impossible to book. Well, I looked it up when we got out. It’s only $100 per person. When we’d paid $395 per person for the hike, a $100 heli-ride sounds sweet! But imagine all of the things we would have missed.

We walked nearly three hours before breaking for lunch. Not wanting to carry uneaten food with plenty of appetite, we had oats for dessert. A cheeky bird let us know that any other food we didn’t eat, he would happily take from us.

Plenty of hikers were coming in and a lot in large groups. We were surprised to see some as early as 10am considering the time of day it was when we came into the canyon’s wash. Just as I was starting to feel disappointed that we weren’t seeing any mules, a few packs trotted by. The first lot was carrying bottled water. The second was purely Gatorade. The third was at least carrying some tinned food along with its Dr. Pepper soda cans. What a pathetic use of a donkey’s energy. The rest were hiking packs so at least that was justified.

At around 1pm we stopped seeing people. We were out of the wash now and it was a bit late for anyone to be coming down. We didn’t really see many people going in our direction so we must have been keeping pace with everyone else coming out.

All of a sudden, the canyon opened up and we could see the end. The helicopter helped us identify the peak we were aiming for. Now came the hard bit. The last mile or two was purely stairs. For the first time of the hike, Dan made the suggestion we put some music on. We’d been kept company so far by the songs in our heads: Under the Boardwalk by the Drifters, To Her Door by Paul Kelly, Mr Jones and Me, Sunshine on My Window by Spiderbait.

Queen got us through the final push, playing on speaker from my bag pocket. As the trail steepened, we were happy for our lightness of our packs. With plenty of daylight left, we took many “butt cheek” breaks to make sure we didn’t burn out before the peak. The clouds were looking black back towards canyon, so we were happy to be walking out.

With the amount of water flowing into that canyon, it’s not a place I’d want to be during any credible threat of heavy rain. The final climb didn’t take too long and we were soon topping out. When we got close enough to see the hili-pad, stopped to watch it land. Having seen it from a distance 20-something times, it was interesting to see up-close.

Having worn t-shirts for the steep ascent, we were greeted by a freezing cold wind at the top so couldn’t get into the van fast enough. Dan downed a cold sparkling water from the fridge while I made crackers and Brie, we ate lots of fruit and I topped it off with a peanut butter wrap. We’d made it! We were reeling from the experience, the perfect weather, the lack of crowds, the gorgeous scenery. I was just so grateful we’d made it happen.

On the drive out, the clouds were our entertainment and we had a huge rainbow out the back.

We were happy to see the Caverns Inn and were excited for a heated room, a shower and some cooking shows. We treated ourselves to some microwaved meals from the store for dinner, kicked back and started recovery.

Prologue

At the time we descended into the canyon, the hike had been open for only one month after a two-year closure due to COVID and flooding. Seven days after we left, Havasupai flooded. One of the bridges we’d crossed was wiped out and all of the hikers were evacuated from the canyon and camped at the helipad for the night. The hike stayed closed for nearly two months following the event. How lucky we were.

3/5 – 3/10/2023 (36.255173, -112.697949)