One of many
trip reports under the
SilGro home page for Alan Silverstein and Cathie
Grow.
Email me at
ajs@frii.com.
Last update: May 31, 2024
(Previous trip report: 1989_1021_GemLake.htm)
My friend Sherry Perkins and I spent a full, intense week touring and hiking in Toiyabe NF (Nevada), Death Valley NP (was an NM at the time, California), and Hualapai Canyon and Havasu Canyon (Arizona) -- side branches of the Grand Canyon. Yes we actually car-camped in December and January! We prepared well for cold, and were surprisingly comfortable except for one bitter night on the Coconino Plateau.
This report focuses on Havasu Canyon, home of the Havasupai Indians and two of the world's most beautiful waterfalls. I'll not record here the rest of our trip except one tidbit: In Death Valley NP on Tuesday, we found one of the two lowest spots on the salt pan (282' below sea level) by hiking merely 1/2 mile (about 20 minutes) WSW of the junction of the main road and the Natural Bridge turnoff. The crystallized salt formations in this shallow depression were truly weird and memorable; also quite different from those at Devils Golf Course.
Now back to Arizona... Havasu Canyon was a huge, cliff-walled valley that would be impressive in its own right even if it were not "merely" a tributary of the Grand Canyon. Havasu Creek ran south to north to join the Colorado River about 50 miles west of the well-known South Rim area. Hualapai Canyon was a smaller valley, still grand in its own right, that drained northeast into Havasu Canyon.
Wednesday morning, Jan 3: We approached the area from the southwest (Kingman). The last bit of civilization we passed was Peach Springs, a small village on the Hualapai (not to be confused with Havasupai) Indian Reservation. From there we drove about two miles east and 60 miles north on a good paved road that ascended the broad, flat Coconino Plateau to about 5600'. It ran through the Hualapai reservation most of the way.
Beyond the Hualapai reservation it crossed county land and entered the Havasupai reservation, marked by signs. The road dropped about 400' into the upper part of Hualapai Canyon, to about 5200', and ended in a large parking lot perched above cliffs known as Hualapai Hilltop. Thanks to a storm the night before, we had clear, cool weather with a couple inches of snow on the ground.
Supai was a village eight miles down-trail from Hilltop. We had reservations to stay at the guest lodge there. The people we interacted with were "laid back, bordering on flaky." They messed up the date, and they didn't tell us until we called the day before to confirm that we had to be down in Supai by 1700 so we wouldn't get lost in the dark. (They were right about that, though -- we would have.) So Sherry and I packed in haste, and we finally started down the trail at 1345.
At Hilltop and all the way down the trail, we encountered many locals going both ways on horses. The narrow, well-worn trail was their only connection to the outside world, save three wires strung down the canyon for electricity and telephone service; plus periodic, expensive helicopter flights. For the 300 or so Havasupais, the round trip to Hilltop must have been routine. Many of them left cars parked there. Almost all groceries and supplies for Supai were brought in on horseback.
The trail switchbacked down sharply for about the first 600'. The fresh snow on the surrounding cliffs and terraces was quite lovely. The trail slowly leveled out about 1000' lower and entered an inner canyon that gradually deepened. Most of the way the trail was on streambed gravel. There were few views out, and few hints how much further it was to the village. There were only a couple of signs along the way... And a whole lot more garbage, mostly discarded cans and bottles. Once we entered the inner gorge the scenery was interesting, but not especially memorable.
Eventually Hualapai canyon widened and met the overgrown Havasu Creek at a T. The creek arose from springs about a mile to the right, and the trail to Supai went left (downstream) along some enormous blocky cliffs. It became a lovely country road on deep, red dirt. From the start the stream was an unusual, striking blue-green color due to the limestone (calcium carbonate) dissolved in it. Somewhere underground there were new caves being formed.
We knew we were getting to the village when fences, horses, dogs, and houses began to appear. At the start of the settlement a sign indicated it was three more miles to Mooney Falls. We reached Supai at 1645, so it took us 3:00 to drop about 2000' to 3200'. Since it was eight miles from Hilltop, the trail was quite level most of the way.
We hiked another 15 minutes through the village to find the guest lodge. We were surprised by a number of sights and sounds... Satellite dishes, a stone school complete with fence and turnstile, a water tank high on a hill, bulldozer and ATV tracks on the road, echoes of dogs barking from the cliffs all around, and a rather large and modern motel. Yet in other ways the village was a typical reservation, with some ramshackle buildings and signs of poverty.
We were told on the phone to expect a $35 charge for a double and an $8 fee for a hiking permit. We also expected hot showers after five nights camping. Well the water was out in the village -- it had been all week. Without explanation, perhaps for that reason, we were charged only $20 to stay the night, and nothing for a permit.
Our room was remarkably large and well appointed. There were large buckets of water available for washing and flushing. The grocery store next door was open till 1730, so we bought a big can of juice -- better than treating creek water. The lack of running water wasn't too great an inconvenience. (A cold shampoo was better than none.)
It was amazing what must have been brought in by helicopter or animal -- air conditioners, double beds, wallboard, lumber... Hardly anyone was around either. Apparently the tourist season there was May through September.
Thursday morning, Jan 4: After a good night's sleep, we put our boots and heavy daypacks on again and started out at 0915. It was strange entering and leaving such a nice motel on foot. The road wound out of town much as it had entered, eventually leaving civilization behind to become a wide trail. A couple of big, friendly dogs left their homesteads to adopt us. They accompanied us down and back for the day!
We rejoined the creek and followed it downstream under heavy, sweet-smelling forest. We passed some interesting flooded areas, with trees growing out of travertine (water-deposited flowstone) pools.
There were four named falls downstream from Supai, according to a 1:62500 scale map:
| Name | Elev | Description |
|---|---|---|
| Supai | ~3120' | small, hidden under trees |
| Navajo | ~3040' | many small streams down a wide cliff, ~80' |
| Havasu | ~2800' | spectacular, over 100' high, into a deep blue pool |
| Mooney | ~2600' | spectacular, even taller and wider; fun downclimb |
We heard but didn't see Supai Falls. We didn't explore for them either. We figured we'd go to our return point first, and decide on the way back how much time we had and how worthwhile it would be.
A little farther down we came upon the myriad flows of Navajo Falls. Not having seen Havasu or Mooney yet, we were quite impressed. There were places you could stand on the brink of a steep, narrow gorge and look down about 80' to travertine pools, and across to a hillside alive with moss and flowing water.
The trail forked here and the one sign was ambiguous. We decided to head right, staying high, as the other branch dropped down to the falls and Navajo Campground. That was a mistake. A very nice trail led off into the sunshine, past a picnic area (with tables, no less), but above an increasingly high cliff.
After a while we decided the other way must be the right one. We tried to downclimb a gully through water-carved narrows and potholes. It was fun but unproductive. It ended in a dry waterfall too high to descend safely. The dogs were smarter than us... They whined at us when we started down, and barked at us when we returned. We went back up around by the fork and down the other trail.
The main part of Navajo Falls was hidden by trees like Supai Falls, but not as completely. We just got glimpses of it from the trail. Again we decided to head down and explore later, on the way back, if we had time. The trail dropped into another inner canyon and wound past some cemeteries. Around a corner, at the junction with Carbonate Canyon, we first heard and then saw Havasu Falls.
There were no words adequate to do justice to this waterfall! The trail descended above a cliff on the right, below a higher one on the left. The first sight of the falls was from the top, looking straight down on a good-sized pond under trees. The echoes thundered off the nearby rock faces. Blue water turned white and roared into the deep green pool, raising a cloud of mist. The cliffside was coated with bizarre forms of brown flowstone, decorated with bright green moss on the lower parts. A sign at the top warned, "No jumping from this point." It's high enough that I sure wouldn't want to try it!
Halfway down the height of the falls, directly across from them, there was a large, cactus-covered flat with a wonderful view between treetops. From there a side trail led back down toward the falls, to the level of the pond. There were marvelous, scalloped travertine pools, a rope hanging from high in a tree, and a small natural rock bridge where a side flow of water entered the pool. Carbonate Canyon vanished in the distance to the left of the falls. This was simply one of the most colorful and dynamic places I'd ever visited.
After a while we decided to spend as much time as necessary in this area and continue on to Mooney Falls. The trail passed through a long, skinny, tree covered camping area along the steep banks of the deep, emerald creek. Fern Spring offered delicious drinking water, and the tribe provided outhouses, picnic tables, and even trash pails. It looked like a great place to camp if you didn't mind the ten mile backpack trip each way!
We sorely wished it was warm enough to swim, as it would be in the summer. Alas the air temperature was about 50 deg F, and the water not much warmer.
Just a few minutes farther down-trail we discovered Mooney Falls. Here the canyon dropped abruptly in a brown, flowstone-covered cliff all the way across, about 200' high. The creek crossed some travertine "turrets" and dropped just as suddenly. Unlike most waterfalls, Havasu Creek seemed to build up its bed rather than cut it down, even at the edge of a cliff. The flowstone hung over space. The narrow stream broadened into a wispy curtain on the way down.
Left of the falls a sign warned, "Proceed at own risk." The reason was that the trail switched down a series of somewhat exposed ledges formed by old travertine pools. Then it dove into a narrow, near-vertical tunnel! (The dogs declined to follow.)
There were actually two short tunnels in series carved into the cliff face, with steep steps in their floors. At the exit of the second, we peered down perhaps 100', straight into the blue pool below the falls. Cool mist blew around us. Above were overhanging curtains of brown stone.
A pair of heavy chains set into posts was the only security as we leaned into some wet, rounded steps cut in the cliff. It was hairy, it was thrilling, it was exhilarating, and it was really pretty safe if you had a good grip and only a normal fear of heights.
We reached the bottom of the last falls at about 1415 and explored the area for a while. It was humid, overgrown, and stupendously pretty with the roaring falls high overhead. Water struck the pool with such force it was like watching a continuous explosion.
At 1450 we reluctantly began the long, 11-mile journey back to Hilltop. I found climbing the chains to be fun and easy. The dogs had waited for us at the top, and barked at us for deserting them. At Havasu Falls once more, we lingered as the shadows grew longer and ice began to coat the upper part of the cliff.
We reached the lodge in Supai again at 1805 in gathering gloom, a couple hours behind schedule but in no hurry. After more than eight hours on foot we were tired. We debated for a while spending another night at the lodge. Finally we decided to push on, just for the heck of it...
The rest of the hike out, eight miles and 2000' of gain, took us about five hours, 1830-2330. Most of the way we had enough moonlight to leave our flashlights off. It was quiet, cold, breezy, and eerie, especially during long breaks each hour. I especially remember the fantasy forms of the high cliff walls seen from the end of the lower canyon, snowy and luminescent, with stars above. One of the dogs accompanied us all the way to Hilltop, even though we tried to send him back and stopped feeding him tidbits. By the time we reached the car we were exhausted.
After midnight we had a couple of misadventures: First, trying to follow tracks through snow on a gravel road east to the South Rim; second, staying warm on a bitter cold night at 6000' on the Coconino Plateau. But that's another story.
(Next trip report: 1990_0513_BearPeak.htm)