The Best Way to See the Grand Canyon Is from a Raft with the Hualapai Tribe
My two-day experience with the Hualapai River Runners, the only rafting company on the Colorado River owned and operated by Native Americans.
Tucked away in the northwest corner of the Arizona desert, the Hualapai Reservation consists of roughly one million acres of land, a 108-mile stretch of which lies south of the Colorado River. Within its boundaries, you can find mountainous desert canyons, plateaus, grasslands, and even a Joshua Tree forest. But most of all, it’s considered a gateway to the Grand Canyon.
And for me, it was even more than that—a gateway to one of the best whitewater rafting experiences of my life.
My first night on the reservation was at the Hualapai Lodge in Peach Springs, Arizona, the administrative headquarters of the Hualapai people, who number about 1,300. It’s filled with Native American art (naturally), and a colorful sign paying homage to Route 66 since Peach Springs is off of the historic westward highway.
The whitewater rafting trip itself began the next morning, when we met early in the lobby to load our personal belongings for the two-day excursion. We stuffed our things into dry bags supplied by Hualapai River Runners, the only rafting company on the Colorado River owned and operated by Native Americans. (Costs for one-day trips start at $429 per person, and two-day trips at $799; reservations may be accepted on the same day, depending on availability.)
A bus picked up our group and drove us to the bottom of the canyon. After an hour’s ride down a bumpy gravel road full of washboards and desert views of blossoming cacti and red rock cliffs, we finally arrived at the river launch point. There were 14 guests in all, plus four river guides for the duration of the trip.
Two plastic blue rafts and gear were awaiting us. For most of us, it was our first time 4,000 feet below the rim of the Grand Canyon. The scene was surreal—the canyon walls towering above us, and the sound of the Colorado River filling our ears. It was a cold spring morning with temperatures in the high 50s. It had rained the night before, and the clouds were just beginning to part. Ultimately, the forecast called for the desert heat to reach the low 90s.
Scott Dietrich was the lead guide for my boat. Though not part of the Hualapai Tribe, he has spent years guiding river trips in Arizona and Nevada and is an expert boatman. He greeted our crew with a big smile, wearing sunglasses and a beanie while being decked out in his life jacket and rain gear. To quickly get everyone’s attention in my boat, he joked, “The better we paddle together, the more likely we are to stay in the boat.”
Cody, a member of the Hualapai Tribe, was the lead guide for the other raft. He helped hand out life jackets and paddles. McCary and Laura, also members of the Tribe, were in charge of the giant gear raft, which was equipped with a motor, alleviating the need for paddlers.
We were instructed never to stand in the water, and if we did indeed fall out of the boat, to pretend like we were sitting in the water with our feet up and pointed downstream to avoid potential foot-entrapment scenarios. Because, in the event you should fall out of the raft, you never want your feet to get trapped between rocks or debris lest you want to drown.
The first day included paddling through a few sets of different rapids. In between, though, there was flat water, so you can relax a little between paddling. Overall, the plan for Day One was to paddle and float around 12 miles. Day Two would consist of motoring (i.e., no paddling required) 30 miles downstream on flat water to the nearest take-out point.
We spent most of the day trying to paddle in unison, with Dietrich humbly shouting out for us to “dig” as we charged into tougher waters. The swells were huge, sometimes towering over the raft and us. Around mid-day, we stopped for a quick 30-minute hike to Travertine Falls on the south side of the river. Climbing up the smooth and sloping rocks with ropes and the steep areas with ladders, we entered the base of the falls, where the water pooled as clear as drinking water.
We ate a picnic lunch on a sandbar with towering cliffs above us. I was happy to dry out and enjoy my turkey sandwich on gluten-free bread with salt and vinegar chips. It was hot and sunny now, so I downed a blue Powerade as well. Then, we suited back up and glided a few miles down the river until we reached our backcountry camping spot for the night on a different sandbar.
Once there, we created a fire line so everyone could help unload the rafts. Everything needed to come off our vessels—food, water jugs, tents, sleeping bags, sleeping pads, camp chairs, a portable toilet, personal dry bags, the camp kitchen, and the handwashing station.
The portable toilet was a metal bucket with a plastic toilet seat that you sit on to relieve yourself. We were instructed to use it—and only it—when nature called. It was tucked away in the green Tamarisk trees for privacy. Human waste, along with normal trash, must be packed out of the Grand Canyon. Because of the desert climate, buried human waste doesn’t break down as quickly and could help degrade the canyon. And so, once you leave camp, the portable toilet is sealed up and taken out of the canyon to be emptied after the trip.
The next morning, I awoke up at sunrise, and grabbed a cup of camp coffee as I watched the canyon turn gold with sunlight. We took down our camp, ate some eggs, bacon, and potatoes, and loaded our rafts to motor down the river to the take-out point.
Toward the end of the day, we floated by the Guano Cave. It’s best known for two things: 1) from the 1930s until the late 1950s, it was the place to find bat guano (aka bat feces), which was used in everything from fertilizers, to dynamite, to makeup; and 2) its corresponding geographic zenith, Guano Point, offers some of the most spectacular views of the Grand Canyon’s West Rim when you’re at the top of it.
And yet, as I looked up at it, I couldn’t help but think about how lucky I was to be on the ground floor instead.