Havasu Falls – Home of Havasupai
Indian Tribe Written and Photographed by Katherine Hunt
There was a constant
roar of bright blue-green water thundering down the cliffs
of the Grand Canyon in the waterfall formation known as
Havasu Falls behind us. Once reaching the bottom of the
cliffs, the crystal water flowed into four or five softer
pools, which were the perfect place to swim despite the
semi- strong current leading to Havasu creek. These pools
were full of people, both tourists and members of the Havasupai
Indian Tribe, often fully clothed, splashing and swimming
around.
“Nice jump,” I told a seven year old girl dark-skinned
with long dark hair who leaped over a few rocks that separated
one pool from another. Fearless and excited to show off, she told
me to watch her swim across the pool. This she did, fighting the
current, while her mom and playmate watched from the sidelines.
Despite the two-mile hike from her home in Supai village to the
falls and campground, her playmate and her mother were swimming
at the bottom of Havasu falls every day of my trip.
The Havasu ‘Baaja, the people of the blue-green waters,
were my hosts during my three day backpacking trip into the Grand
Canyon. Both the hike and the campground lie on what has been
Havasupai land for the past 100 years. According to the Havasupai
web site, prior to the early 1800s the Havasupai Indian Tribe
survived during the fall and winter months through hunting and
gathering on the upper plateau of the Grand Canyon. In the spring
and summer they would move into the canyon and plant gardens.
When the Havasu Reservation was created in 1882, the federal government
limited the Native American Tribe to the bottom of the canyon.
There, they began to subsist on their farms, and tourism, all
year round. Today, the majority of the tribe’s money comes
from people who travel within their reservation into the Grand
Canyon by horse, helicopter, or foot. That is ultimately how I
ended up at the bottom of the Grand Canyon in the Havasupai Reservation.
Eight miles after strapping on my backpack and walking into the
canyon, I was slightly exhausted but still in awe of the red-
orange rock cliffs surrounding me in sedimentary layers. Depending
on where the sun was shining and whether the cliffs were wet or
dry, the rocks alternated deep browns, rich dusty oranges and
fire reds. Apart from lizards, birds, and the occasional dog I
encountered sporadic groups of hikers and the Havasupai drivers
of horse trains transporting packs, supplies, or mail in and out
of the canyon. The pack horses formed small stampedes that I had
to quickly avoid about every forty minutes. Yet the Havasupai
drivers always waived as they trotted past, and it was a pleasant
reminder that I had exited United States territory.
When the vegetation on the trail began to grow greener and thicker,
I followed signs for souvenirs, water, and ice cream across a
bridge into Supai Village, the main village for the Havasupai
Indian Tribe. Supai Village is the home to approximately 450 members
of the 650 people in the tribe. The red, dusty, unpaved streets
contain the buildings that you would imagine existing in a small
community: a school, basketball courts, a couple of grocery stores,
a medical clinic, a post office, a small Christian Church, and
a general store. These however, are in addition to the tourist
office, small café, and lodge, which are provided for their
constant stream of out of town visitors. Tourists are an every
day occurrence in Supai village. Tired people carrying large backpacks
lounge in front of the tourist building or cafe goggling at the
landscape as the Havasupai villagers go about their business without
noticing. Dogs are common and loose, walking along the village
streets by themselves or in twos and threes.
It is amazing that people could survive at all at in the isolation
and decadent wilderness at the bottom of a canyon. Hualapai Hilltop,
the trailhead for the hike, is about an hour and a half drive
from the nearest town. All supplies in the village are either
grown, made, flown in by helicopter, or brought in by horse. Yet
the isolation seems to make it easier for the tribe to hold onto
a separate culture from that of the majority of the United States.
The tribe is governed by a seven member Tribal Council, which
is elected to office by the people. The Bureau of Indian Affairs
provides law enforcement services to the village. Within the tribe
they speak Havasupai, their native language, and it is common
to see men and boys hanging to the middle of their backs in the
town and campsite. Though the tribe is mainly Christian, they
still practice Havasupai traditions and prayers and consider the
land sacred.
On Havasupai land, tourists are common, but it is they who are
outsiders. Their strange modes of dress and colorings stand out.
They do not know the land and are saddled with the slight discomforted
air of those who are not sure what to expect, partly because of
the isolation of the village.
For the traveler and adventurer, the hike from Hualapai Hilltop
to the campsite inside the canyon can be a challenging ten miles
of dirt, rock, and sand that ends at a campsite close to waterfalls
and a creek that resorts can only attempt to emulate. The Havasupai
people have allowed adventurers a brief glimpse into a small hiker’s
paradise. However, while there, it was impossible to forget that
the land and water I was enjoying were someone else’s home.
The walk through the dusty Havasu village, surrounded by indescribable
beauty, and the large groups of Havasupai people who appeared
to enjoy the campsite, creek, and falls just as much as the tourists,
was as humbling as the awe inspired by the canyon itself. For
me, a trip into the canyon was an escape from a hectic schedule
and a comforting reminder of the insignificance of my own life
path. For them, life inside the canyon is simply the routine day
to day of a small community subsisting on farming and tourism.
Yet it is a life that has pleasures outsiders are only able to
briefly glimpse through the lens of a short trip.
Katherine Hunt
is a law student who is always eager to glance past her books
to the next adventure. She believes that encountering other
cultures allows a traveler to shape her life to be in harmony
with the people she meets.
