By Annie Lindgren
Photo credits: Annie Lindgren and Nate Kraft (photos of Annie)
Link to accompanying photo album: https://adobe.ly/4dtARbW
The most magical of places are the most unlike anything you have ever seen. The places you have to see, smell, and feel for yourself, to know they are real. They are the places you don’t want to leave, because the effort to get there is so great. Following is my trip report from our backpacking trip into the Grand Canyon via the Havasupai Reservation route and the land of blue-green waters.
The Havasupai tribe changed how they did permits in 2026, with two permit open windows, the first one charging an extra $50 for early access. This backpacking trip had been on my bucket list for at least a decade, and I decided it was worth paying an extra $50 to secure permits for 2026. A couple of hours of dealing with a glitchy reservation system on a February morning resulted in securing two permits for April 24th-27th.
The next step was securing flights and lodging. Since I could only find late-night or early-morning flights into Vegas, I decided it would be best to fly in late on the 22nd and out early morning on the 28th. Choosing from the many affordable Vegas lodging options, I opted for the Boulder Station Hotel for the first night, and Circus Circus for the last. I booked the Grand Canyon Inn, along historic Route 66, for the night before the hike, since that’s where we picked up our permits.
Our goals were lofty. Friday, we planned to backpack 10 miles to the campground. On Saturday, we would make the 16-mile round-trip to the confluence where Havasu Creek meets the Colorado River. On Sunday, we would relax and enjoy the 4 teal-blue waterfalls within a few miles of camp. Then, on Monday, we would pack up and backpack the 10 miles back out of the canyon. Are our mid-40’s broken bodies ready for 40 miles in 4 days? We would find out! Worst-case scenario, we could take a helicopter out, or hire a mule to carry our packs out. We are too stubborn to plan ahead for these options, but we would get out of the canyon one way or another. This would be my second backpacking trip in the Grand Canyon, previously doing the National Park route via the Bright Angel Trailhead. With many other trips under my feet, I consider myself an ‘expert backpacker’. My boyfriend was new to backpacking, and we were able to fit in his ‘first backpacking trip’ in Colorado the weekend before this trip.
We had the typical rental car fiasco. One never gets what they book and pay for with rental cars, and while we booked an ‘economy car’, we were first given the choice between a Rubicon and a Mustang. While tempting, our plan was to drive 3 hours to a trailhead in the desert where we would leave said rental car parked on the side of the road for 4 days. We waited a bit and settled on a 2026 Grand Cherokee, which immediately drove Nate nuts with a glitchy dash display. He figured out how to turn it off, and we dealt with the rest of the funny, fancy features.
We learned that big casino hotels don’t include coffee in the room, but do have restaurants and coffee in-house, which we enjoyed before hitting the road. Then we were off to REI for camp fuel and a few other things, loving the palm-tree vibe at Vegas’s version of our favorite store.
Then, we were off for the 2 1/2-hour drive to the Grand Canyon Inn, where we would pick up our permits and stay the night. This was an iconic Route 66 stop that was now run by the Havasupai Tribe. We had a lovely stay, and while we missed the cave tour (the largest dry cave in North America and the 3rd largest in the world), we had dinner at the restaurant. We spread out all our gear and food selections one last time, adding the items we picked up from REI and Dollar General.
The Grand Canyon Inn offered a robust continental breakfast, starting at 4 am, which is where we found ourselves the next morning, having breakfast with other adventurous souls. Then, the 60-mile race to the trailhead, where the early birds found the parking closer to the trailhead. We set off on foot at around 630am. The weather forecast was perfect for the trip, not getting above the low 70s or below the upper 40s.
The first leg of the trip was 10-11 miles, depending on how far into the campground we went to set up camp. The first 6 miles of the trail had no water. It dropped down from the top of the canyon, then, after a steeper first mile, mellowed into a lovely stroll through the colorful desert. At mile 8, we came to Supai, the most remote village in the contiguous US. It is home to 200-500 members of the Havasupai tribe, and everything is carried in and out via mule train or helicopter.
We are not allowed to take pictures of people, animals, or the community, so there are none to share. It’s a piece of the day 1 realization that this was an adventure you could only truly experience in person. I can share that the hike was often interrupted by the need to hop off the trail to avoid a mule/horse train, and that each train had a dog or two trailing behind, loyally trying to keep up. The Supai village amazed us with its mix of what you would expect and what must have been a huge undertaking: helicoptering in. There were two modern schools, a cafe, a general store, a variety of house styles, and a beautiful church. Folks got around on ATVs, and the road was dusty and lined with fences that kept in old horses. In addition to the no-photography rule, the signs also asked visitors to wear masks when entering buildings. Eager to get to camp, which was still 2 miles away, we walked through without stopping.
You start seeing water, the color of blue ice Gatorade, right before Supai. Once beyond Supai, you come to the first of the waterfalls. And, just before entering camp, you ascend a hill that takes you from the top to the bottom of the 3rd and most iconic one of them all, Havasu Falls. The sight of this majestic fall dissolved the aches and pains from the 10 miles of walking there with a pack loaded with 4 days’ worth of food and provisions. The campground goes on for a mile, with the blue-green river running through the middle. Mooney Falls, waterfall #4, marked the farthest end of the campground. We ended up with a camp closer to the Havasu side, not far from the freshwater spring, backed by a cliff and a slope leading up to a small cave. The camp had plenty of space, including a private pee spot that reeked of prior use, trees for shade and hammock hanging, a picnic table, and was surrounded by a freshwater mote fed by the spring where we got water. We were pleased with our find, as many of the other sites had others too close. We had a big group of 20-somethings move in on the other side of the moat, on the same itinerary as us. They were big on ‘camp lights’ and laughter, but in bed at a respectable hour, and we ended up crossing paths with them daily, including a congratulatory greeting when we returned to the trailhead not far behind them.
After setting up camp and enjoying a tuna-and-crackers lunch, we changed into our water clothes and headed back up to Havasu Falls for exploring and a soak. The weather was beautiful, and in the lower 70’s, and the spray from the waterfall made it feel cooler. Nate is braver than I when it comes to swimming in cool waters, but I sat in the ‘warmer-than-a-coloradoan-would-expect’ water to soak my sore legs and feet. We then returned to camp for a dinner of backpacking food and hot tea. And, settled in for an early bedtime with earplugs.
Day 2, we were out of the tent by 5 am, to do the 15-mile round-trip hike to the confluence, where teal-blue Havasu Creek meets the muddy Colorado deep in Grand Canyon National Park. The descent through the rock tunnel, down the ladder, and along the chains, wet with mist from Mooney Falls, was fun. So many struggle with this part, but the retired mountain climber in me was thrilled for an excuse to bring the climbing gloves on an adventure. Mooney Falls is absolutely stunning, with a deep, electric-blue pool at the base and a lime-covered cove in the background, suggesting hundreds of years of the river falling here. The river and trail continue on, intertwined with crossings that were sometimes hip-deep. We walked through them in trail runners and quick-drying shorts, watching the map so we didn’t miss the turns. Everything the water touches gets covered in lime deposits, which are grippy and easy to walk on. The water was crystal clear, and there was very little mud, rather a soft white silt.
With every step downhill, the right side of my right knee screamed louder and louder. It grew to a gut-punching pain that, about 2 miles in, had me realizing I wouldn’t be able to make it to the confluence. I had KT tape on it, but had neglected to polish up my knee-taping skills, so it took me 3 tries to get it right. I was still on the first attempt at this point. Beaver Falls was about a 5-6 mile round trip hike along this same trail, so the next mission was to at least make it that far. The final half mile to the falls includes ladders and steeper sections, adding to the adventure of getting there, which would be our favorite of the 5.
The bonus of an early start is that we only had one other couple to share Beaver Falls with when we arrived. We climbed and hiked through the water to get to a private cove near the part of the falls with a cave-like space behind it. I made the call to bail on the confluence hike, which was a first for me: calling a hike off due to pain or injury. Humbling. But we spent several hours playing in the water, including a lot of soaking of the knees. By the time we left, there were many more people there, and lines for getting through some of the ladder and climbing spots. I used my poles to take some weight off my knee, but the uphill felt less painful. We took our time and stopped for lunch on the river along the way. The trail and canyon we were hiking through felt like the most beautiful we’d ever been on. The cliff walls were majestic, the trail was surrounded by lush green foliage and trees, with the blue-green water cutting through, creating its own intricate design that changed continually with flash floods. We had close encounters with mountain goats. My GPS was off the charts for route and elevation, since the canyon was too deep for good reception. It felt like a trail from another planet. While grateful to have caught the miles of it we did, we would have seen another 5-mile stretch if we had made it to the confluence. Next time.
We paused for longer at Mooney Falls before climbing back up through the ladders and tunnels. We explored the length of the campground as we moseyed back through, noting sites that were more secluded and close to the river, which we would seek out next time. Back at camp, we found the wind had picked up, dusting everything in the tent. We shook it off, then rested and ate, and went to bed early for a peaceful night of sleep. It was warm at night, so we kept the tent doors open. But this night the wind picked up again, giving us another dusting of the fine dust that covered the loose dirt parts of camp.
Morning of day 3, we were able to sleep in a little. After coffee and breakfast and my 3rd attempt at taping my knee, we moved our tent to less dusty ground, put on our day packs, and headed towards Supai to visit 50-foot Falls and Little Navajo Falls. The trails to these two aren’t easy to find, and actually Navajo Falls wasn’t really visitable due to being in a steep canyon that had been heavily altered by flash flooding. The original falls that had been visible from the trail were dry, and now a lime-covered skeleton of a formerly grand waterfall. The trail to the 50-foot falls went through water and started with a drop into a fast-moving stream that didn’t look like a trail at all. I only knew it was the right way because I saw a group of young women coming back through it. Since the floor of the waterways was grippy with lime covering, we made it through the fast-flowing part to a water-filled trail with a couple of signs that led us through a rock, tree, and smaller falls-lined trail to a big opening. To the left, the falls wrapped around a wide cove on one side, and the other side looked like a lake filled with tall grass and rock formation bumps. The water was clear, and I searched for a while for a spot to sit and take in the falls, but none existed, and the pond-like area was vast and filled with running water that snaked through the obstacles as it funneled down towards another section of falls farther down. The water in these falls wasn’t as blue-green, but the adventure getting there, and the complexity of these falls make them just as magical as the tall ones. We still needed to find a lunch spot, so after getting back out of the falls area and checking out another people-filled overlook of the falls on the other side of this long stretch of falls, we found a spot for lunch on the old dried Navajo falls. The rock was so fascinating, as with lime covering everything, you end up with shapes and holes after the organic matter that the lime covered deteriorates. There were dried-up terraces that were no doubt shaped from logs that became trapped under water. The canyon was also filled with a loose mix of silt and river rock that shifted whenever the river flooded, which happens annually. It feels like a constantly changing place. The skirts of the waterfall we couldn’t touch were lined with massive trees hanging down from the cliffs, carried there by torrential water that I was grateful not to see in person. The campground also still had many signs of last year’s destructive flood. It is such a fascinating terrain.
We headed back to camp and passed up an opportunity to get fry bread from a stand that opens only when locals show up to set up shop (they were still setting up and seemed annoyed by our question about what they would be selling). Another thing I loved about the canyon was the abundance of cactus, particularly the barrel cactus that could be found peering over ledges at us. They were on the cliffs above our camp. Back at camp, we rested and then had dinner. We walked to the nearby camp riverside spot, peaceful for watching the sunset over hot tea and freeze-dried strawberry cheesecake. Again, an early bedtime in a dustless spot, with plans for waking early for the long trek out.
Day 4 morning, we woke early and packed up camp. We hit the trail at around 6, but only towards Havasu Falls, where we enjoyed early morning peace and lighting with the most magical of places for a second cup of coffee and oatmeal. We hit the trail at 8 am. It was a hard place to leave. We had our heavy packs on, and it was 10 miles back up to the trailhead where we hoped the rental jeep awaited. Along the way, we noticed that most had left their heavy packs for the mules to carry. We played leapfrog with our 20-something neighbors, who were engaged in their own group-split banter about who could make it to the top the fastest. They were also carrying their full packs, and two of them, who had made it to the confluence, brought up the tail, limping from knee injuries. Another group we met at the falls had a woman advocating for why having the mules carry the packs saved the muscles needed for the confluence hike, and she had a great point. Next time. But, I am incredibly proud that we made it in and out with our full packs despite my knee acting up. And, keeping a decent pace with the group of 20-somethings.
Once reunited with the car, we made the long drive back to civilization, stopping for a fry bread meal and a celebration drink in Kingsman before ending the day at Circus Circus on the Vegas strip. The next morning was another early start, with a 615 departure for an 8:45 am flight out. We were happy to get home to our dog and catch up on sleep and rest.
We hope to make another trip, with more friends or family, in the future. This place is magical, and we are grateful to the Havasupai Tribe for allowing us to experience its otherworldly beauty.
Link to full album:
