Chasing Waterfalls in Havasupai

Permits & Logistics

Here's the deal: to camp at Havasupai, you need a permit. And getting one is like winning the lottery — literally.

The permits open once a year, and you apply for a specific group size and dates. My friend applied for our group and snagged around a spot for early August.

Once you've got your permit, it's time to think about logistics. There's only one way in and out: a 10-mile hike into the canyon.

You have a few options:

• Carry your own gear (tents, food, packs, everything).
• Pay for a horse to carry your gear.
• Pay for a horse to carry you and your gear.

We chose option one — backpacks stuffed with everything we needed for two days. Brutal? Yes. Worth it? Also yes.

Because it was August, the heat was no joke. It's strongly recommended you start before dawn to avoid hiking in the blazing sun. We started around 4 a.m. with headlamps on. It's mostly downhill into the canyon (the first mile drops about 1,000 feet), then a long gradual descent through the red walls.

There is a lodge and small cantina in Havasupai village (about a mile before the campground), so technically you don't need to pack food. But if you do, bring a JetBoil or similar stove. Trust me on this one. (We forgot fuel, and it was almost tragic until we begged a spare can from some friendly campers.)

Day I: The Hike In & Havasu Falls

Our group of eight started hiking at 4 a.m. — bleary-eyed but excited. I had flown in late the night before, so I was running on fumes, but adrenaline carried me.

It took us about 8 hours to reach the campground — longer than the average 4-6, but hey, we were hauling food, tents, and all our gear. Along the way, we passed through Havasupai village, where there's a small grocery store, restaurant, and even helicopter deliveries bringing in everything from groceries to flat-screen TVs. It was surreal.

We finally reached Havasu Falls around 2 p.m., in peak heat. And when I saw it? WOW. Turquoise water gushing over red cliffs into a perfect pool. Absolutely stunning. We dropped our packs, set up camp, and sprinted to the falls to swim. The water was icy cold, but after the long, hot hike, it felt like heaven.

Of course, because it was my first camping trip, we forgot one tiny thing: the rain fly. Cue a sudden downpour that soaked all our stuff. Rookie mistake. Luckily, it passed quickly, and we dried things out while cooking dinner. That night, we hiked back to the falls under the stars. Honestly? Magical.

Sleeping in a tent wasn't bad either — I was so exhausted, I knocked out. Plus, unzipping the cover and seeing a sky full of stars was soothing.

Day II: Mooney Falls & (Almost) Beaver Falls

The next morning, we made breakfast and headed out to explore more waterfalls. First stop: Mooney Falls.

Getting there is an adventure in itself. You descend down the canyon wall using foot holds, chains, and ladders bolted into the rock. It felt like rock climbing, and the mist from the falls made everything slippery. Sketchy, yes. But when we got down? Totally worth it. Mooney is massive — taller than Havasu — with powerful currents we tried (and failed) to swim close to.

From Mooney, you follow the creek about 3 miles to Beaver Falls. The hike is gorgeous: lush greenery, turquoise pools, and sections where you wade through water. It didn't feel like the Grand Canyon at all — more like a jungle.

We were almost there when a ranger stopped us. Storm were rolling in, and there was a risk of flash flooding. So we had to turn back. A little heartbreaking, but better safe than sorry.

By the time we climbed back up to Mooney (with slippery rocks and drizzle), we were wiped. We headed back to camp, only to discover our borrowed JetBoil had run out. So I went wandering around camp like a beggar until a kind group shared theirs with us. Bless the prepared.

Day II Night: The Hike Out

We started our trek out at 10 p.m. to beat the heat. Hiking uphill in the dark was tough but also kind of surreal. It was pitch black, and my quads were Texas, so I stubbed my toes on approximately every rock in Arizona.

On the way out, we passed through Havasupai village again. Here visitors can actually pay about $200 to fly out on a helicopter if they don't want to make the full hike back. One of our friends had sprained his ankle earlier in the day and decided to do just that. He dropped his off at the pad, handed over some of our heavier gear to the helicopter ride, and then the rest of us continued on foot.

The coolest part? Canyon dogs joined us. Seriously. Three stray dogs trotted alongside us all night like they were our guides. They knew the path better than we did, and we just followed their lead.

The hike back took about 3 hours. A bit after dawn, we reached the final brutal mile — that 1,000-foot climb out. At that point, we all agreed to go at our own pace. I thought I'd be last, but surprise! I powered through and came in second. Turns out, adrenaline is a hell of a drug.

When I got to the top at 7AM, sweaty, sore, and running on zero sleep. I looked back at the canyon and thought: "hell yeah. Round two. Let's go." (but not really)

This was my first real hiking-and-camping trip, and it was one of the coolest experiences I've ever had. Exhausting? Yes. But the waterfalls, the stars, the canyon dogs, the sheer beauty of being cut off from the world (no data down there!) — all of it made it unforgettable.

If I go again, I'd camp for at least 2-3 nights instead of one. It would give me time to rest between hikes and enjoy the falls more fully. Honestly, I could have stayed a week: just swimming, relaxing, and being away from civilization.

If you're into hiking, camping, or just want to challenge yourself, Havasupai is worth it. It's a unique hike — mostly descending rather than climbing in — and a rare chance to experience a hidden oasis.

Sadly, the area closed for the 2025 season due to flooding damage. But if you ever get the chance in the future, grab it. It's an adventure that stays with you.