My adventure of a lifetime happened 2,000 feet into the wilderness of the Grand Canyon, at Havasupai.

I’d clambered through rock tunnels and down chains wet with mist from a 200-foot waterfall. I’d trekked through a lost canyon, overgrown with wild grape. I’d scrambled up ladders, and plunged into cold water, milky-blue from limestone.

I’d done it after carrying a quarter of my weight on my back for 10 miles, and surviving for three days off my careful packing. And I’d do it all again to have just another day of true adventure.

Here’s what I learned about hiking to Havasupai and its dramatic waterfalls, in case it helps you get there yourself one day.

 

Getting the Permits

The falls and campgrounds occupy land belonging to the Havasupai Indian Reservation. Supai, the main village is home to a few hundred tribal members; the fees and camp expenses you pay to obtain a permit are tourism dollars for the tribe. At the time of this post, I paid around $200 per person for two nights. A minimum stay of one night is required to visit.

Securing permits is an adventure in itself. After the photogenic falls first popped up on social media, visitation spiked, along with competition for coveted campsites. A local Arizona news outlet doomed the process as “nearly impossible.” I was thwarted my first year of getting a permit back in the days before the reservation system moved online, and calling the tourism office ad nauseam until someone picked up was the norm.

The next year, we came armed with a larger group and a plan to be on www.havasupaireservations.com as it went live for the year on February 1 at 8 am. The chaos started promptly after—browsers failing to load and rejections for dates that were no longer available. I was fielding Facebook messages from one friend, texting from others, a phone call, and my co-worker shouting down the hallway. And then, somehow, we got it: nine people, two nights, one “impossible” experience. Permits for all of 2018 were sold out within 20 minutes.

 

Packing

Here’s what I brought for a two-night, three-day campground stay in late October. If you are new to backpacking, check out my packing list and tips for beginners.

Camp gear

• Backpack
• Hydration bladder
• Tent
• Sleeping bag
• Sleeping pad
• Trekking poles
• Headlamp
• Solar-powered collapsible lantern
• Jetboil and fuel
• Utensils
• Knife
• Travel towels
• Sunscreen and bug repellant
• Stuff sacks
• Water bottle for around camp
• First aid kit with leukotape for blister prevention
• Water filter (we did not end up using this for the water at Fern Spring, but handy to have)
• Day pack
• Hammock
• Shower wipes
• Rope
• Rat sack/critter bag and rope if going in summer to protect food from aggressive squirrels
• Cash

Food

• Freeze-dried dinners and breakfast
• Lunch to eat on the trails (we made peanut butter and jelly)
• Snacks and energy bars
• Energy chews

Clothes

• Pair of pants
• Pair of shorts
• Fleece layer
• Long-sleeve layer
• Jacket
• T-shirts
• Hiking socks
• Swimsuit
• Sports bra
• Hat
• Hiking boots
• Water shoes (and neoprene socks if the water will be cold)
• Grip gloves for Mooney Falls

 

Hiking Down

We opted for a night’s rest in Peach Springs, AZ before tackling the trail early the next morning. But an early turn-in became a midnight affair after my car engine seized on the highway outside of Ash Fork. Friends came from the hotel to rescue us, and after tinkering with a tow we were all settled at the Grand Canyon Caverns Inn.

The hour-long drive out to Hualapai Hilltop wasn’t as early as I planned, but we joined the ranks of precariously parked vehicles along the canyon road and got started downhill by 9:30 am. In October, it was sunny but cool, and we made good time.

 

The first mile and half wound 1,000 feet down the canyon wall. Then, we filed through a dry river bed as sandstone canyon walls rose around us. This 6.5-mile section of the hike ended in a leafy jaunt along Havasu Creek. After crossing between pastures on the outskirts of Supai, we finally made it to the main village.

 

We checked in with the tourism office, got our wristbands and tent tag, and started off through the town of Supai. The constant roar of a helicopter lifting hiker’s bags out of the canyon followed us through the narrow streets. We got some high-fives from a little villager hanging around outside his school. Onward!

By the time we’d reached the site of Navajo Falls and Fifty Foot Falls, I could muster only a little interest. 8.5 miles of packing wore on my shoulders and spirit. We kept on another 1.5 miles through sand, the idea of camp spurring us on, until we reached majestic Havasu Falls. After a few pictures from the vantage point at the top of the trail, we finished up the last half-mile push through the campsites.

 

Camping

Welcome to Havasupai! Enjoy the pit toilets, picnic tables, fresh spring water and proximity to a cold gatorade. While remote, it’s not rugged. The half-mile campground stretch is filled with a lot of coolers, pop-up tarps and propane stoves dragged down by mules or hauled in a chopper.

It was with a pinch of judgment (and sure, maybe some jealousy) that I eyed people navigating wheelbarrows of their stuff from the drop point inside the mule’s pen.  But for my stalwart group and other backpackers we crossed, I commend you. For the tough hike in, the reliance on freeze-dried fineries and the hike out to come.

The campgrounds are stunning. We skipped to the back, where stretches of flimsy boards and a crooked bridge over the creek were the required passage for a camp spot. I set up a tent with a view of the blue water cascading over limestone-lipped dams. Campers before us had already strung a knotted line for carabiners, but I’d recommend packing some rope or twine to hang food and dry clothes just in case.

 

Havasu Falls

The short half-mile to Havasu Falls made it a popular return journey from camp. It’s gorgeous. The iconic tail of white water plummeting into a perfect blue pool below has apparently changed since a decades-old flood, but Havasu Falls is still magnificent. We were just happy it was blue; some early fall storms had turned it chocolate brown just the week before!

In late October, it was too cold to swim. We enjoyed from a distance, and even got down for a yoga session led by our group’s newly minted instructor.

Make sure to bring some cash to try fresh frybread!

Mooney Falls

If Havasu was the serene—a sight for sore eyes after a 10-mile trek, a gentle yoga backdrop—then Mooney was the audacious. Flanked with jagged travertine outcroppings, Mooney plunges almost 200 feet, roaring and spitting mist onto descending hikers.

 

The cliffside climb to bow at Mooney’s feet requires crunching through natural rock tunnels and clinging to wet chains. We had to wait a while for another group to encourage their last hiker through the end, but sitting on the cliffside watching the waterfall wasn’t the worst fate.

Twisting around to press my chest to the rock and gripping the chains with both hands, I managed an effective descent, trusting my upper body strength over a steep gap in footing. All of us wore grip gloves to hold onto the chains. The last obstacle before touching ground is a wooden ladder.

Fueled with adrenaline, I soaked in the power of the waterfall for a while before we continued on.

If you are hiking up or down to Mooney, you won’t want to do it against traffic! Everyone was headed down in the morning, and up again by 3:30 in the afternoon.

There are also great views from the top of Mooney.

 

Beaver Falls

Without swimming on the schedule, we had plenty of daylight to head out to explore Beaver Falls. The 3-mile hike in itself was worthwhile. I was surprised to learn less than half of visitors make it out here.

From the cliffside at Mooney, we struck out along the creek and followed a trail up into the canyon. Up on the western wall, we saw a staggeringly high ladder network I’d read was a historic burial ground for the Havasupai tribe.

Our first creek crossings were soon after. Directions online had noted there should be bridges around, but we guessed everything had been swept away by storms. The water near the lips of the limestone dams offered shallow and safe footing for crossing, or sometimes you’ll just need to go in knee-deep.

The hike opened up into a valley that just needed roaming dinosaurs to complete the atmosphere. Swathed entirely with waist-high wild grape and shadowed by red canyon walls, we’d felt like we had entered the land of the lost. The blue creek rumbled through the foliage alongside us as we ducked under arbors of grape vines and crossed a wooden plank.

 

After the hidden valley, the trail led us past a scenic point in the creek to a sprawling date palm tree, a signpost for a choice in paths. But—what was the choice? Allegedly, a path continued to the left across the creek to the top of Beaver Falls, but the water rushing over fronds looked intimidatingly deep. We chalked it up for another storm alteration and climbed up the ladder to our right.

After some more climbing over rock remnants of ancient falls, we made it to a signpost that indicated we’d made it. I’d somehow walked right past the most iconic shot of Beaver Falls that capture the terraces of blue water.

A picnic table marked a downhill turn to play at the falls at the bottom. It was shady and the water was freezing, but we jumped in for a quick picture. A rope on the opposite wall led to the upper falls, but I opted to hang around on the inside a cave of ferns where a waterfall gushed overhead. Be careful of the undertow!

Hiking Out

I got by with a little help from my friends. Seriously. The Beatles’ hits actually serenaded me up the last two miles of this challenging canyon climb. And I have my friends to thank, too, for the strong willpower and companionship.

10 miles with a heavy pack in the 80-degree heat is tough. I knew it would be. And I knew I wanted to do it—to take my experience, on my back, and challenge myself to accomplish it. The first 7 miles went by quickly, passing back through the village, over the creek, through the dry river canyon. When we got into the full sun and started climbing the scrubby hills, it got hard.

The last mile and a half up the switchbacks were punctuated by quick stops in the shade while my calves burned. But we all did it! I climbed out of the Grand Canyon and lived to tell the tale. Our post-hike beer and burger in Williams, AZ was a phenomenal treat.