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| Mooney Falls |
I
first hiked to Supai, Arizona in 1987 – it’s hard to believe it has been thirty
years ago. I just found my hand-written
journal from that adventure which I am transcribing here for my blog. This was the first back-packing trip I ever
made…
I
had the desire to visit the Havasupai Canyon area for many years. My friend Dave Melian had made the trek and I heard his stories and saw his pictures - which always made me want to go.
On the spur of the moment, while considering the extreme likelihood that there were no permits available, I called the Supai Tourist
Manager only two weeks prior to my intended hiking date. As it was planned for mid-week there were still permits
to be had and I secured the necessary reservations for hiking and camping. That was really unusual - permits were normally gone months ahead of time. I had "lucked out."
The
preparations for the trek began one week ahead with a visit to the Arizona
Hiking Shack on north Cave Creek Road, where I found my old grade-school chum,
Glen Dickinson. I made a reservation for
a back pack rental (I did not have one of my own back then) and also for a
Therma-Rest pad to sleep on. This was a vinyl sleeping pad that with the
opening of a valve, self-inflated with a thin layer of air. This came highly
recommended by Glen and the combination of the pack and the pad only cost $4.50
per day, so I agreed to it. Glen assured me it would be worth the money. This completed,
I went on with the arrangements for a camping trip to the White Mtns with my
kids.
It
was my plan to return from the White Mountains camping trip on the 27th
of June in time to pick up the equipment from the Hiking Shack before
they closed for the weekend. I bought supplies
for the trip in different places the next morning, including a small tent I got
for ½ price at about $18. It had been my
intent to sleep open-air – but a bargain is a bargain. [In hindsight, it gave
me a place to store my stuff out of sight once at the campground.] I put together a first aid kit, probably the
heaviest single item in the pack. I put
together some food – non-perishable things such as celery, peanut butter, (4) PB&J sandwiches, carrots, apples, a
summer sausage, pepperoni sticks with dips, candies for the trail, crackers and
gum. I also packed an ice chest with ham sandwiches for breakfast before hiking,
juice and several cans of soda pop (to be left in the car on ice until I hiked out three days later, hot and thirsty).
By
now it was Sunday evening and my sister Tina drove me to a car rental agency to
pick up my wheels for the trip – a new Chrysler LeBaron. My own vehicle at the time was an MG-B and I didn't trust it not to break down on a road trip. I still had my boys with me up to this point,
so I took them back to their Mom’s and went home to finish my “getting ready.”
I
packed a bed sheet to sleep in and a vinyl tarp and some other assorted items
that I "just had to have" and of course later found useless.
After a final errand to pick up a friend at the airport (Carol Rosetta, who
was returning from a vacation trip of her own), I finally got it all done and
hit the road at about 11:30 pm.
I
headed north without stopping until I encountered a motorcycle, headlight on,
in the ditch. This was between Prescott Valley and Ash Fork. Dust was still in the air
and I turned around thinking he might be hurt. Someone had run him off the road
about 4 hours before, and he couldn’t get the big Harley out of a hole he had
dug while trying. I had nothing to tug
him out of the ditch with, [and apparently even together we couldn’t pull the
bike out], so I gave him a drink and a ride to Ash Fork where he had a
friend. He had been drinking quite a
bit, but he caused me no trouble. He
turned out to be a fairly decent fellow.
I
made a quick pit stop in Seligman, probably had milk and donuts, and went on
out old US 66 to the turn-off to Hilltop. I made pretty good time – I knocked off
the 65 miles to Hilltop by 3:45 AM. As
usual, you had to worry about livestock on that road [While transcribing these
notes, I don’t remember now whether there actually were any, but I noted the
signs with warnings about watching out for them.] I slept in the car until about 5:45 AM. I had no alarm (no cell phone in those days);
but I was counting on the sounds of other hikers to wake me – and they did. I
found myself surprisingly alert for having had so little rest – probably because
of the excitement.
The
outhouse at Hilltop was the last one until I reached Supai – so I got myself
pit-stopped and then got my hiking boots on. I got my man-killer backpack
strapped on and finally got on the trail downhill at about 6:20 AM. My notes “guess” that the pack weighed about
35 lbs.
The
trail to Supai from Hilltop begins immediately with switchbacks, which continue
for about one mile. It’s fairly easy going down,
but my legs were a little shaky at the foot of the mountain. At the bottom of the switchbacks, the trail
turns 90 degrees to starboard and flattens out – you’re hiking north along the
bottom of a wide draw at that point. From there on, it is a fairly easy and
level walk to Supai – probably 8 more miles. It is downhill, but not steep. I took a quick break, then moved on down the
trail. Hiking pretty fast for a beginner, I made it to Supai by about 9:15
AM.
I
created a problem for myself along the way by not drinking enough water. It was shady and fairly cool, so I wasn't thirsty. But my body was "working," and by
about the last mile I was in a fair amount of misery and discomfort. I had a heat rash on my arms and “general
exhaustion.” The road into the village is a straight stretch, and I struggled past the first
houses and farms through the soft deep dirt of the trail, and then at the south edge of the village I came to the Tourist Office where I needed to pay
my fees and get my permits. All hikers
register and pay there. My “trail fee” was $10, plus a $9 charge for each night’s
camping. My total was $28.
I
crashed on the wooden bench outside for five or ten minutes to recover. At the time, it was my thought that I had come pretty close to a heat stroke. I drank
about a quart of water. Then as I started to feel a little better, I moved off through the village and down the trail
toward the campgrounds. This part of the
hike was sunny– and since it was summer, very hot.
And I was already heat-sick before I started. Up to this point, the
hike had been mostly shady and cool – which is why you start a summer-time Supai
hike in the cool of pre-dawn if you planned right. Anyway, I was walking very slowly.
Very
shortly down the trail, I came across two young women, standing beside the
road, resting. They challenged me as I was strolling by, asked if I was alone. I
told them I was and we stood for a moment to chat. They had camped on the trail
overnight and had arrived very early to the village. We moved off together
toward the campground, still two miles distant.
From that point on, I had acquired two companions for my adventure. I
don’t know what drew them into my company – perhaps they felt I needed adopting,
or perhaps they were uneasy after spending their night alone along the trail
(they mentioned that, anyway). But we fell into step and chatted as
we walked.
The
first girl was dark-haired and slender, maybe about 35 years old. She was a
school teacher of 6th graders near Roanoke, Virginia. She was the more talkative of the two. Her speech was accented, and vaguely southern
[my recollection now is that she sounded somewhat like the actress Paula
Prentice]. She was extremely chatty and
inquisitive, but not the least bit annoying.
Her name was Caroline Shelburn.
The
other was Jean. She was a little shorter
with red hair and was much quieter. She
had a quick smile, bright eyes, and I think she didn’t miss much. She was a physical education teacher of
elementary school children in a Phoenix school district; she runs 10k’s
and triathlons and such.
We
kept pounding away toward the campgrounds and eventually come to the gate and
the ranger station, sometime about 11:00 AM.
My name was not in the ranger's reservation book, but I have my permit tag so he writes me down
and we move off in search of a suitable camping site (which I already have “pictured”
in my mind).
On
the way into the village, I had stopped to talk with a gregarious outbound
hiker who had allowed as how he had left this paradise of a camping spot, "it
would mostly likely still be vacant and I should snatch it up." So I was looking for it. The man had told me it was 80% shaded (that was exaggerated)
and “with its own private swimming hole.”
It was in a shadier, “wetter” area, across a footbridge to the right. We found it easily, and its praises were
well-deserved. It was still empty, and Bob, Carolyn and Jean moved right in
and set up camp.
After
I set up my camp, I was hot and tired. I figured it was about time to go swimming. In cut-offs and sneakers, I began to work my
way down the smooth, wet bank to the water. I planned to stick a toe in to see
just how cold it was (it looked VERY cold).
Just about then my feet swapped places with my head, I bounced once on the way down - and I found out how
cold the water was. I couldn’t speak for
probably five minutes - about all I could manage was a croak.
The water at that
spot (Cataract Creek maybe a quarter mile below Havasu Falls) was well over my head and I had gone right to the bottom. Once in, it quickly became bearable, although
it was still chilly. The only thing that made this all OK was the air
temperature was probably 110 degrees. I swam around the area, and over to a
cascading tumble of water near some rocks and travertine, and sat in a natural “Jacuzzi”
surrounded by a small horseshoe-shaped waterfall. The entire setting was wiped out about 5 years
later by one of Cataract Creek’s periodic floods. I was never again able to find this exact spot.
It
was time to eat lunch, so I climbed out, dried off, and got into my cache of food – PBJs,
apples and celery. The girls had some freeze-dried chicken salad and bagels – they gave me their left-overs and I ate
it with some of my crackers. We agreed to share the remainder of my food, then
we’d have gourmet food for supper. After
lunch, we decided to go see Havasu Falls, at the head of the campground. We had
passed the falls on the hike down, about 1/4 mile back up the trail toward the
village. It appeared that we would be a
three-some for the duration. I had no
complaints about that.
Arriving
at the bluff below the falls, Carolyn introduced herself to the common prickly pear cactus. She got a few
little prickers in foot and toe. We
helped her get those out, then moved down to the sand and rocks by the falls
and its travertine pools. There were lots of people sunning and swimming. I swam across the base of the falls and climbed
up on the cliff beside them. It was a
good place to people watch. The huge Cottonwood tree at the west side by the
trail was still standing then, with its swinging rope. Some boys were making use of that to swing way out
over the pool and dropping into the water.
I
got back into the water and swam around among all the others doing the same;
you had to keep swimming, otherwise the water was too cold. It was very brisk.
I got out and joined Jean and Carolyn on the “beach,” where they were sunning
themselves. I discovered I had worn my watch into the water for the second
time, which did it no harm in the end. I
also discovered that I forgot to remove my wallet. So I scattered its contents around on the
rocks to dry. The contents dried out OK, but the wallet itself did not – it was
finally dry on Wednesday morning for the hike out. I felt pretty stupid about the whole thing.
While
we were sitting around the beach area, we noticed that one young lady was
sunning herself au natural. This is
frowned upon by the Indians, who are very modest. But we didn’t hear any of them complain about
it. The sun was now going down and the sunshine was getting harder to find –
they had to chase it around a bit to stay in it. Jean
was reading a book, and Carolyn was intent on staying in the sun. I moved over to a nearby picnic table to talk
to a gentleman sitting there – and my legs had gone to sleep from sitting on
the ground, so I wanted to move around a bit.
He was Robert Morris of Los Angeles, there with his three sons to see the
area, then they were to move on to the Grand Canyon itself (North Rim). I tell him about our fine camping spot, and
by the time we got back to it, I found he and his boys had moved in next
door. I felt a little territorial for a
few moments, but there was plenty of room, and he “is pleasant enough.”
The
girls have heard of the legendary Indian taco at the Supai Café; Jean at least wanted to try that. We put it to a vote
and begin the two mile trek to the village for supper. It was still hot and sunny, so the walk was
tough and miserable. I was driven along
by the thought of a cold Coke, which I had been thinking about all day.
Along
the way, we met another couple just arriving from Hilltop – they had gotten a late start. They were from a
kibbutz in Israel and were touring the great intermountain west! [When I wrote
this] I had already forgotten their names, but we had a lot of conversation
about life in a kibbutz, and we all gave them plenty of advice about what to
see in Northern Arizona. After we parted, we headed on
toward the village.
Even then [1987], we
noted the abundance of satellite dishes in the yards of the little houses –
Supai is an extremely remote place, but television is one of their common pleasures. Arriving
at the Supai cafeteria, I ordered a bowl of stew and a Slice (lemon-lime soda).
Jean and Carolyn had fry bread and beans since they were out of the other taco
ingredients. Years later, my Mother had
to be helicoptered out of Supai after eating those beans. But they apparently didn’t have any negative effects on my two comrades. At the time, I made a note that they “also got lots of
water.” I was anxious to get across the
street to the general store – and I inadvertently walked out of the cafe without
paying. I got halfway across the street before
I remembered. At the store, I got a large bottle of
Dr. Pepper to carry back to camp for the next day.
We
hung about the village for a little while, then started back down-trail toward
the campground. Carolyn got side-tracked
onto the spur to Navajo Falls, but she felt the getting lost had been worth it
as those falls were very pretty. I never saw them until quite a few years later, and they ARE worth the short hike to reach them - the area around Navajo Falls is like a grotto. Anyway, we
stopped and waited for Carolyn to catch up as we saw her coming back around our
way. [I think she thought that spur was a short-cut, rather than a dead-end.]
I stopped along the way, the
girls got on ahead of me, and by the time I got
back to camp they were already visiting with the Israeli couple again. They really were nice people and I joined in
the conversation as well – all I remember of them now is that the lady had
short, curly dark hair. I took my Dr
Pepper bottle to the creek, and tied it to a tree with some fishing line, with the bottle dangling in the cold water. Jean had me do
the same with her day pack, as it had a juice bottle in it which she hoped would also be cold for breakfast. I am sure it was.
We
relaxed in camp, and attempted to R&R Jean’s candle lantern, which attempt was finally successful. Bugs then gathered to worship. Our plan for the morning was to visit Mooney
Falls (at the other end of the campground).
It was too hot to sleep in a sleeping bag – so I wrapped up in a sheet. The bottom of the Canyon is like an oven in the summer - the rocks hold the heat. It was still warm in the tent, so
I folded the rain fly back across the top, to open up the screen – and that
helped. I slept very well; Glen had been right, the Therma-Rest was very comfortable.
I
woke up off and on from about 5:30 AM, but didn’t climb out until about 7:45
AM. It was cool and nice and I really wanted to enjoy it. I got up and performed my morning rituals, shaved etc, then prepared for breakfast. The girls have pancakes with poppy seeds and
ate them with peanut butter, honey and jam. They shared; I had mine with honey and
one with strawberry jam. Then they made
scrambled eggs with bacon in it – I do not remember but I am guessing [now]
this was one of those packaged freeze-dried things. We cleaned up camp and then got out toward
Mooney Falls.
Carolyn
was wearing flip-flops. I wanted to
advise her against that, but diplomacy won out. We encountered our Israeli friends
along the way, and discover they will continue on out of the canyon. We had
hoped to share our supper with them.
We
soon arrived at the top of Mooney Falls, and began the almost vertical descent
down the face of the cliffs to the base. There are tunnels and chains and
pitons and a drop of probably 300 feet to the bottom. It was [and is]
spectacular and exciting – terrifying from the top looking down, but easily
negotiable to anyone in fairly good shape.
My Mom completed it both ways at age 75. The view of the falls (the canyon's tallest) is magnificent from the
top. It’s hard to see where to put your
feet for each step down and about half-way, I took Carolyn’s water bottle
which she was carrying, and tucked it behind me in my belt. Chivalry lives!
At
the bottom, we crossed a shallow pool to the island, which is where everyone
hangs out at Mooney Falls. The falls were named for an explorer, Mooney, who
attempted to descend the nearby cliffs and failed – fell to his death. They buried him on “an island.” I figure it is the very one on which we now
stood. At any rate, I undertook the taking
of some photographs.
I
went for a swim, and headed across the shallow side to the cliffs by the
falls. The crashing water was blowing
into a fine mist, and even in the hot sun, I nearly froze to death. I worked my way around to the other side and
joined Bob Morris, and a man from Washington I had met on the way down the trail –
he and his son had passed me on the switchbacks the first morning. They were all waist-deep in the water on the
sheltered side of the pool, against the east wall of this kind-of-a grotto. Bob
eventually pushed his way (against a strong current) in to swim, and I reluctantly followed, remembering
how cold it was. We soon began diving in
headfirst and had boo-coups fun doing it.
We
spent an hour or two swimming and sunning, but I eventually tapered off as I
feared I was getting swimmer’s ear. It
was probably just the discomfort of the cold water though. Bob Morris mentioned he had hired a pack
horse for the trip out of the canyon the next day; he has one spot on the pack
saddle left unreserved (for balance and weight distribution, they carry four). I made use of
it, as the girls weren’t interested. They were tough back-packers. I am more of a light-weight.
Eventually,
we left Mooney Falls and climbed our way back up the cliff. It is less-scary going up than it is coming
down, and I doubt any of us will ever forget that bit of fun. Carolyn had been so frightened on the
descent, but was now having such fun with it, that I took her photo going up, very much “engaged” with the cliff – and I had it enlarged and framed
(or block-mounted) for her after I returned home.
[This
is the end of the notes that I took.] I
either lost the rest, or didn’t write any more after this point. But while I remember little, I do have at
least one other very fond memory of this adventure. Jean had not, to this
point, gone into the water at all. She kept refusing, even when the rest of us went in. But later in the afternoon, toward the end of
the day, she finally decided to swim.
She stood for a long time on a rock beside the water at Havasu Falls, still hesitant about her decision to swim.
Finally, she either stepped, or dove, into the water. Just like everyone else, she shrieked bloody
murder when she got herself suddenly immersed. But just like everyone else, she
quickly got used to the temperature. And
from that point on, she swam around, and jumped, and dived, and was a picture of
total joy; it was beautiful.
I took quite
a few photos of her as she bounced around, and as she sat on the rocks on the far-side of the pool by the falls.
I am certain I still have the negatives – and when I find them I will digitize
them and maybe add some to this post. We
had a very nice last evening in camp, visiting and
talking about what fun we’d had. The
only thing that would have made it better was a campfire (fires were not
permitted), but everything else was perfect.
One thing that was different then was the spring water below the village was still pure enough to drink right from the source. Within a few years, that was no longer possible. For the hike out, we all filled our water bottles from the spring near the campground.
I
remember that we got on the trail very early on Wednesday morning, hiked
together out through the village and up the trail to Hilltop. It was easier for
me than it was them, as my pack went on a Havasupai horse. All I carried was some
snacks and my water. But we all survived and made it out in good time. We said
our goodbyes at the trailhead – I shared my cold drinks with them (I had left
that ice chest in the car).
I
think I exchanged a letter or two with Carolyn, and I took Jean to see a Gordon
Lightfoot concert, before I lost track of both of them. But they helped make my first hike to Supai
very memorable. I have been back many
times since then, and I enjoyed them all, but that was my first and in my
memory, about the best of all of them.
