Some of the most beautiful waterfalls you may ever see are right here in Arizona, which may be counter intuitive especially since most people think of Arizona as the largest harbor of America's deserts. Havasupai is truly an oasis in these deserts; it also happens to be in the Grand Canyon, though on the outskirts and much more remote than the photogenic, mile-wide hole in the ground about an hour north of Flagstaff that is the GC.

We wanted to come to Havasupai for reasons that, I hope, the pictures can explain themselves, but also for seeing a remote part of the GC that few have access to. At a later point in the trip, details below, we actually hiked almost to the Colorado River, which took us through some very picturesque parts of the canyon neither of us had seen the likes of before. To whet your appetite, the following is the very first waterfall we encountered heading into the campground. The stark blue-green to red contrasts were stunning and they don't end here.

"New" Navajo Falls After a flood in 2008, the old Navajo Falls dried up. These falls sprung up from mud and clay channeling the water and bypassing the old Navajo Falls. — "New" Navajo Falls
After a flood in 2008, the old Navajo Falls dried up. These falls sprung up from mud and clay channeling the water and bypassing the old Navajo Falls.

Hiking into the canyon. The cloud cover was great, though making things a bit chilly.

To get to this remote location, one must first make the trek from Seligman, AZ (yes, THAT Seligman, the "birthplace of Historic Route 66" -- whose population also happens to be a whopping 460 some in total) to what Google maps dubs the "Havasupai Campground Parking Lot" -- which is just a long name for a rather dull lot at the top of mesa with two portipotties and a trailhead that is practically invisible from the lot unless you spy the mule trains heading down the only possible trail into the canyon. After following the mules, you have an eight mile trek through rather dry and dusty desert before reaching Supai, AZ (only accessible by helicopter, hiking, or mule). Except this desert trail quickly turns into a narrowing ravine flanked with steep rock forming a partial canopy overhead. This greatly reduced the heat from the sun while hiking and offered many places to sit and take in the beauty. There were also many forks in the trail that took off in one direction or another around large steeples of rock, only to eventually wind back into the "real" trail. These are good for avoiding mule trains and other hikers if one wishes to pretend to be the only humans occupying this part of the planet.

Heading into Supai -- this is where it starts getting lush with trees.

Eight miles in we reached Supai, a rather sizable, established town for it being inaccessible by car. There were of course many stray dogs running around, and pretty much every house had a horse (or a fair few) out front, standing there chewing away at whatever small amount of greens there was left to eat from the barren earth. Sadly, some of the horses looked malnourished, but I won't dwell on such things here. We neglected to take any pictures of the town, (I'll leave it up to your imagination). All that was needed for us in the town was to get a camping permit from the local Ranger's office and hike the next two miles to the campground itself.

Looking above from our camping area. The old, decaying tree on the lower right served as a place to hang our wet clothes after swimming some days.

By the time we reached the campground, our legs were pretty sore. The camping area still sprawled out across about a mile. We decided to look for high ground to camp on; since there was a river running through the grounds; it would really put a damper on the trip if it rained and flooded. And with our cloudy weather on the hike in, rain was sufficiently probable -- though we didn't end up getting any.

We set up camp near a compost toilet -- well, far enough away that it wasn't smelly, and close enough that we could utilize it without hiking another mile.

The next morning brought a chill neither Dan nor I were ready for. We quickly fixed a hot breakfast and coffee. Despite the chill, this is one of my favorite things about camping. I don't think I can explain it well enough to people who don't like to camp, but there is something about waking up to the sun barely streaming into the tent, snuggling up to the warmth from the Mountain House Breakfast Skillet and tortillas and sipping away at coffee while thinking about the awesome adventures that await the day. We decided to relax for the day and check out some waterfalls. We put on our swimsuits under hiking clothes and headed for Mooney Falls, only about half a mile downstream of our tent. This is what awaited us upon our arrival...

Top of the falls. Two teenage looking guys thought it would be a good idea to camp right on top of the falls...

Through the tunnel that led to the almost vertical climb down the side of the rockface.

The climb down to the bottom of Mooney Falls really awoke my inner child. We scrambled over rocks and chains slick and mud-covered from the persistent spray of the falls. We also had to go through a couple caves in the rock -- we had our headlamps! The whole trek reminded me of one of the Ages in Riven -- for those of you who know about Robyn Miller's late '90s puzzle game. In that way, it made my senses perk up with the slightest detail. If only there were some puzzle to solve, a hidden lever to pull, or some rock-face that looked just off color enough to rotate about an axle once pushed and give you some clue as to the next step in the puzzle...but I digress (seriously, Riven and its sequels were probably one of the best ideas for a video game ever, with stunning graphics and engaging enigmas).

Given that Mooney Falls is almost two hundred feet in height, the climb down can be quite daunting for those afraid of heights or at all unbalanced in their footing. Over the course of two days, though, we managed to climb it several times without error.

Climbing down crab-like was the best way I think. I can see where I'm putting my feet. Luckily, the chains were quite sturdy and various steel poles stuck out at regular intervals to give you something to hold onto while looking for a place to put y… — Climbing down crab-like was the best way I think. I can see where I'm putting my feet. Luckily, the chains were quite sturdy and various steel poles stuck out at regular intervals to give you something to hold onto while looking for a place to put your feet.

Here you can see a view of the near-vertical climb we just made. Everything was slick and covered with moss, though thankfully firmly bolted into the rock.

Dan's hands are cold! The spray from the powerful waterfall makes the descent even more adventurous, but it makes you really cling to the cold metal chains for dear life.

The two hundred feet of water cascading down into the dark blue pool below is even more of a spectacle when seen from ground level. The sheer power of the water as it hits the pool is exhilarating in more than one way. A deep hole in the sandy substrate beneath the pool is carved out from the gushing water as the thunderous roar continuously erupts from the clash of water against water. You are sprayed with mist even a hundred feet away, as vapor is indiscriminately ejected into the rock-face and surrounding area. Dan and I, each in turn, decided to brave the shallow part of the pool a few meters in front of the waterfall's indentation, getting thoroughly soaked in the process.

Dan looking at the awesome, swirling vortex wondering how wet he's going to get

I look back on these pictures and laugh hysterically at the differences: Dan wearing a rain jacket, just thrilled at being pummeled with the icy water, and me with my bikini top and rolled up pants clenching and squirming as an ice cold mist whips my back.

We decide to get dressed and head back up the rock-face to go relax in the pool by Havasu Falls (the falls just before the campground). But for completeness we needed a picture of the both of us (far too few we have, I think... *wink*).

Base-level view of Havasu Falls (probably the most photographed falls in the park)

Havasu Falls used to be a lot bigger (in terms of water flow from various points at the top), but since the flood in 2008, the flow has reduced to a single "notch" ensconced between two ancient veils of rock sculpted from the older falls. At the base, the falls create less of a cacophony than Mooney Falls, but still spray mist everywhere. The blue-green waters sport a shallow bank of calcium carbonate sand that feels soothing to sore bare feet. We set up our camp chair and relaxed for the afternoon under the sun, occasionally wading through the crystal waters.

Dan relaxing in the camp chair. He eventually moved the chair into the shallowest part of the pool to soak his feet.

I was still feeling adventurous, and I spied a little alcove on the far side of the falls to explore

Picnic benches were set up all over the park

Our last order of business for the day was to head back to Mooney Falls and figure out where the trail down to the Colorado River started so we wouldn't get lost in the morning. After following many false trails to their conclusion at the bank of Havasu Creek, we finally found the correct trail. Though, one false trail did lead us to this gem!

Much of the hike to the Colorado River the next day looked like this! A winding juxtaposition of trail and creek through narrow canyon walls, with very few other people on the trail. We had to wade through the creek on several occasions -- well "wade" may be an understatement, more often than not, we had to almost swim across the creek at points of high turbulence. Strong toes that can grip the slippery rock bed turned out to be useful.

We followed this creek for many miles. It eventually runs into the Colorado River, but we didn't make it that far.

Crossing the river a few times was not all that unusual since the trail was fairly under-traveled and may times we had to climb up and over a plateau of rock or a bundle of tightly packed trees to get to the other side where we could barely make out the thin scrawl of the trail in the dirt. On one occasion we diverted from the trail for a good half hour and climbed over tree limbs that jutted out from small islands of sand and dead plant life clustered together to form a natural dam. This was delightfully fun in its own right, but we missed the trail completely and had to double back, eventually finding a thin board (clearly man-made) that bridged a narrower part of the stream.

Mini waterfalls such as these ran the length of the first mile or so of the hike, before we headed into dense underbrush between two canyon outcroppings

Alright, I have to take a tangent here and show something super cute. This baby duck was trying to swim upstream and not making it anywhere. It was working so hard at it too! Wiggling its little bum to and fro trying to defeat the current, but all it managed to do was cancel out the flow from the current and stay still in the middle of the stream. Adorable!

After about two miles or so of hiking, we came to a large open space between canyon walls completely filled with gnarly, twisted dead plants save for the snaky trail that meandered through it. I'm sure the spider population (and probably small rodents too, if you think about it) in that expanse of wearied plants was vast to say the least. This went on for a bit, about another mile, before we finally came to a confluence of two canyon ravines, where Beaver Falls was located. Hiking through the gnarly plants gained us some elevation, so we were now far above the river on a rock ledge looking down. The trail dipped back down to the river near the ravines' junction, which headed further into the canyon. The trail tended to disappear many times. Once it seemed to end at the creek, until we rounded some corner, went under a conspicuously isolated palm tree and found a ladder that led to an acclivity high up along the wall with the continuing trail!

Hidden trail route. This happened a lot. Again reminds me of a puzzle game...

Here is an outlook of where we thought the trail ended until we turned around and saw a ladder. Very sneaky; but it made the hike enjoyable and adventuresome.

Conspicuously misplaced palm tree. This was the only one of its kind we saw in the grand canyon. Weird.

Beaver Falls is tiered, forming small cascades of water flowing into large pools. These falls are quite different than the others I've described, but just as spectacular. From our vantage point on the rock ledge we could see park benches on the other side of the river, which naturally should mean you can get over to that side somehow and see the falls from a different angle. This did not work out well however, for two reasons. 1) There was a lone Navajo ranger (well, maybe a ranger...Dan lovingly called him our "eagle guide") who was not too keen on us climbing down various parts of the rock to try to make it to the other side. We tried to explain that if there were park benches over there, there should be a conceivable way to get over to them. He wasn't having any of it though, and while we made it back down to river level to get a good look at the tiered falls, he suspiciously eyed us from his perch above. This was all in good spirits though, since he probably didn't want us to fall into the river and be swept away in the tumultuous waters. Which brings me to reason number 2): There really was no reasonable way to hike to the park benches due to the high water level and there being no foot-boards or tree limbs over which to clamber. This part of the river is very wide, and short of swimming across, which I guess we could have done, we couldn't cross it.

We decided to press on toward the Colorado River. This meant climbing up more near vertical cliffs to find the trail -- literally, climbing, hands and feet were used. Thankfully, the ever important hoodoos on obscured trails led us up the easiest path. High above the river again, we came to a sign that reads "Leaving Grand Canyon National Park Entering Havasupai Tribal Lands" -- the etched metal on metal is a bit hard to read. This is of course positioned for hikers hiking in the opposite direction from us.

The trail from here gradually declined back down to the river. We had to ford it several times, rolling up the pant legs and taking off the hiking boots. The water was refreshingly cold, but hard to cross without slipping. After fording two more times, we came across a couple who were hiking from the Colorado River as far as they could make it in a day. They said we would have to ford many more times before reaching the Colorado. Since we didn't have shoes other than hiking boots (Vibrams would have been wonderful to prevent slipping on the riverbed rocks), our food was getting low, and the sun had started its slow relaxation towards the horizon, we decided not to continue.

On the way back, the sun's departure behind the canyon walls cast a shadow over Beaver Falls, which gave us another opportunity for photos in lower illuminance conditions.

The hike back seemed to take less time, and we arrived at camp with a few hours of sunlight left, so we decided to relax again by Havasu Falls. The next day we started the arduous journey back out of the canyon to the parking lot. Lots of sunshine and many breathtaking hours made it a long, sweaty day.

One last gorgeous picture of the New Navajo Falls, early in the morning as we headed out from the campground.

In stark contrast to the luscious sights of waterfalls and canyons, once we made it back out to the open desert, we just plowed on and didn't take many pictures to document the journey. Dan had the camera though, so I guess he did take a few unflattering pictures of me.

But the ascent was well worth the views of the past few days. Havasupai will always remain one of our favorite places to hike in Arizona and escape the bustle of civilization for a few days. It takes a bit of planning, some sweat to get there (no blood or tears, though -- at least not for us), but well worth it. I highly recommend the place for any adventure seekers. I'll end on that note, and with an adorable picture of Dan and I one morning at camp just after sunrise.

I'm so lucky to have someone with whom to make these adventures! We have so much fun together.

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Havasupai 2013

Havasupai Falls 2013