In Arizona, it’s 10 miles to cloud 9

FIVE hundred miles away, there’s a lawn that needs mowing. The desk at the office is buried with work.

Right now, none of that matters. I’m reclining against a warm, smooth rock after a swim in the turquoise-hued pools of Havasu Creek, and the only thing I have to worry about is getting too much sun.

A thundering waterfall makes conversation difficult. That’s good. This tableau of mighty canyon walls, sapphire blue skies, springtime greenery and crystal-clear water is best taken in without chatter.

Getting here had taken some doing. There was a nine-hour drive across the desert to the Hualapai Indian Reservation northeast of Kingman, Ariz., followed by a chilly Friday night camped under the stars on the Hualapai Hilltop. Then, rising at dawn, we saddled ourselves with backpacks full of camping gear and hiked 10 miles.

Our reward: this gem-like pocket of the Grand Canyon known as Havasupai Canyon. Here, the blue-green waters of Havasu Creek tumble to the Colorado River through a trio of remarkable waterfalls -- Navajo, Havasu and Mooney.

We had planned to make this trip five months earlier. I had signed on to help Greg Lievense lead teenage Venture Scouts on a four-day backpacking trip into the canyon. We put off the trek until spring break because of job demands. I wouldn’t have minded another postponement. But after descending into this ancient canyon, I had no regrets.

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Mule trains

IF you’ve ever stood on the South Rim of the Grand Canyon and wanted to explore one of the many redoubts within the giant chasm, Havasupai is a good place to start.

Although it’s just 40 miles west of Grand Canyon Village, Havasupai is 180 miles away by road, and a greater distance by vibe. There are no shuttle buses, pricey souvenirs or four-star restaurants. You won’t find big crowds either. To get here, you walk, ride a horse or descend by helicopter. The Havasupai Tribe runs a 24-unit lodge in Supai and a 250-person campground that skirts the creek outside the village.

The three main waterfalls and the pools below them are the big attractions, each a stunning oasis in the Arizona desert. Unlike the icy cold Colorado River a few miles away, the waters of Havasu Creek are about 70 degrees most of the year.

Supai (population 500), the village where the Havasupai have lived for centuries, is one of the last places in the country where the mail (along with most everything else) is packed in and out by four-legged beasts. A postcard mailed from the Supai post office will be postmarked “Mule Train Mail.”

To visit, you must make reservations through the tribal office and pay a $30-per-person entrance fee. If you’re willing to pay more, you can ride into the canyon on a horse or even in a helicopter. You can also walk down with just a day pack and water and pay to have your camping gear hauled in.

For us, these options aren’t even slightly tempting; we’re backpackers. In the last six or seven years, Greg and I have led Scouts on hikes across the Sierra Nevada and San Gabriel ranges in California and through the Sangre de Cristo Mountains in New Mexico. But our sons are now at or near 18, and our days of Scout hikes are coming to an end. Havasupai, we figure, will be the place to close out a chapter.

After a long hike, there’s nothing quite like a swim to rinse off the trail dust and loosen up sore muscles. Havasu Falls is the closest of the three to our campsite, and we spend Saturday afternoon there. Our Scout troop has been to this spot before but always in November, when hardly anyone else is around. It’s warmer now in April, and the canyon is more crowded. There are 50 or 60 people in the pools below Havasu Falls, and the eight boys seem pleased to see that a dozen of them are wearing bikinis. We all agree that April is better than November.

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A natural ‘cathedral’

IN 1880 or thereabouts, prospector D.W. “James” Mooney lashed himself to a rope and went over a cliff where Havasu Creek plunges 190 feet. The rope broke, Mooney was killed, and the place has been known as Mooney Falls ever since.

Descending the steep trail on Sunday morning, we have no problem imagining what happened to Mooney as we crouch through a series of narrow, cave-like tunnels to reach the bottom of the falls. Spray makes for slippery footing, and a misstep could be deadly. Heavy chains have been drilled into the rock at strategic points to provide handholds. The last leg of the descent is along an aluminum ladder tied fast to the cliff.

The pools at the bottom offer another chance to swim, but we decide to keep exploring, veering west into a narrow box canyon. At first, it doesn’t seem like anything special. But after hiking about 100 yards and squeezing past giant boulders, we are enveloped by soaring canyon walls. We see signs of an ancient waterfall that had sluiced through the red and tan rock, shaping it into a natural cathedral.

We climb to a high point at the end of the canyon, the rushing waters of Havasu Creek no longer audible, and for a change, even the boys are almost silent. I have not been to Notre Dame, but on this Sunday morning in spring, I cannot imagine any architect topping the job nature has done here in the desert.

From here, we could continue down Havasu Creek to the Colorado River, but that 10-mile round-trip hike would chew up the day. At my son Kevin’s suggestion, we decide to hike back up the trail, past the campground, to Navajo Falls.

Unlike Havasu and Mooney falls, Navajo is only partly visible from the main trail. After finding the unmarked side trail, crossing the creek on a fallen log and scrambling through some shrubbery, we get our first good look. The water cascades down a wide swath of rock into a pool that proves to be the best swimming hole yet. The water is warmer, perhaps because it’s only about 5 or 6 feet deep, and there are only three other people there when we arrive.

In an instant, we are all in the water and swimming toward the falls. We find a grotto-like area where streams of water shower down from a dozen directions. Nice, but too shady. I swim out beneath the main falls, where the sun warms the water on its downward flight. John Protzko, a television sound technician making his first trip to Havasupai with our group, says he’s never seen a finer place to swim. I start to disagree, but then stop. Who can argue?

After a while, we head back toward the campsite, stopping again at Havasu Falls. The boys find a huge boulder from which they can jump into the water near the bottom of the falls, and take turns shooting pictures of one another making dramatic leaps.

Back at camp that evening, everyone gets out their digital cameras again and displays their highlight shots. Greg is showing off his images of Havasu Falls when his son Collin points out that one of the frames also manages to capture a young woman sunning herself on the rocks. “He’s trying to make it look like he’s shooting the waterfall,” Collin says. Greg laughs; it’s obviously a scurrilous claim. I make a silent note to review my own pictures before show-and-tell time at home.

As dusk approaches, the boys cook frankfurters, slice them and mix them into macaroni and cheese. John cooks up quesadillas for the adults, offering apple slices as hors d’oeuvres. In a year or two, we figure, he’ll be the one leading groups of teenage boys into Havasupai, showing them the way to the cathedral canyon and Navajo Falls.

For me, it’s perhaps one last night in the field with kids I’ve been hiking with for half a dozen years. There will be lots of time to mow the lawn.

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(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX)

Cool, cool water

GETTING THERE:

Havasupai is about 450 miles east of L.A. Take Interstate 15 north to Barstow, I-40 east to Kingman, Ariz., and Route 66 northeast to Indian Route 18 to the Hualapai Hilltop parking area and trail head.

To the campground, it’s a 10-mile hike, or you can ride a horse for $75 each way (less for guests of the lodge). Airwest Helicopters, (623) 516-2790, has flights from the hilltop for $85 each way four days a week from April through October and twice weekly the rest of the year. There’s a $30 entrance fee for all visitors.

WHERE TO STAY:

The Lodge in Supai is an average 24-room hotel; two double beds and air-conditioning in each room. No phones or TVs. $135 a night. (928) 448-2201.

The primitive campground can hold up to 250 people. Composting toilets and picnic tables. Campers pay $12 each per night. (928) 448-2141, 9 a.m.-3 p.m.

WHERE TO EAT:

The Village Cafe in Supai serves breakfast, lunch and dinner. No open fires are permitted in the campground, but portable stoves are. There is no water at Hualapai Hilltop; hikers should carry at least 2 liters and leave more in the car to drink after hiking out.

CONTACT:

Havasupai Tourist Office, P.O. Box 160, Supai, AZ 86435. Call 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. Mondays to Fridays, (928) 448-2121, www.havasupaitribe.com.

-- John Corrigan