The Scorpions Sting
Deep in the Grand Canyon lies a little slice of paradise known as Havasupi. It is a place of pristine waterfalls and towering cliffs, but it is also the home of the Havasu Indians. If you pay the right price, you can stay in Havasupi, but you have to be prepared for a journey. There are no roads down into the canyon, so you’re options are limited to a ten-mile hike, horseback ride, or helicopter.
When I went, I chose the hiking route. The way is long, and if you go in the Summer as I did, it is hot and dry. The heat is difficult, but it also makes your arrival at Havasupi that much sweeter. As you finally start getting used to the dust and rocks, a beautiful sight greets you: blue water that looks as though it came from the pristine waters of the Caribbean.
Not only is the water nice to look at, but it’s some of the cleanest water you can find on the planet. Since Havisupi is located deep in a canyon, it is lower than many underground aquifers and lakes. This water is pushed through the rocks and comes out at various places around Havasupi. This process of moving through rock purifies the water so well that you can fill your bottles straight from the rock.
I remember the water being cold, all the better for the desert Summer. My group had planned to stay in Havasupi for a couple of days and we had plenty of chances to walk through the stream and jump over waterfalls. The first day was filled with activities just like that. We’d jump from tall rocks until we got bored of the place, then we’d find another. There is no shortage of places to explore down in that canyon.
Our first night was as gorgeous as you could ever ask for. The sky was perfectly clear and you could see the Milky Way through tree branches overhead. Naturally, I couldn’t resist the urge to set out a tarp and sleep under the stars. I stared at them for well over an hour before drifting off to sleep. Hours later, I was reminded of the universal truth that beauty never travels alone. No, beauty always has a steady companion, and its name is danger.
This danger came as I turned to sleep on my side. Somehow, my hands had wriggled their way free from my sleeping bag. I awoke with a start. My left hand had just swung into a nearby bush. It was too dark to see, but it felt as though a branch had impaled my finger. I rushed to grab a flashlight and shined it on my injury. My bleary eyes were stunned. I could still feel the pain, but I could see no mark, let alone the blood I’d expected.
I tried to ignore the pain. If I couldn’t see it, it was probably just in my head. The pain persisted, turning into a burning sensation. I inspected my finger a second time. I saw a mark this time, but it was tiny, barely even a divot. I shrugged, held my finger, and climbed back into my sleeping bag. It took the better part of two hours for the pain to subside when it did, I fell asleep.
When dawn came, my finger still hurt and a numbness had started spreading through my hand. I brought the fact up with some of the others in my camp and they took me to see one of the Havisupi people. The man had leathery skin, was heavy set, and was old enough to look like he’d gathered all the wisdom the canyon had over his lifetime. He took one look at my finger, listened to the symptoms, and told me I’d been stung by an Arizona Bark Scorpion.
I know that knowledge should have spooked me, but I distinctly remember feeling proud of the fact. If I had to get stung again, I wouldn’t do it, but the pain had already come and gone. A part of me felt happy to have been ignorant of the cause of my injury. Needless to say, I spent the rest of that trip sleeping inside my tent.
That whole second day, the numbness in my hand crept into my other fingers and up part of my forearm. We decided to go on a hike, and every step sent a tingle into my hand. It was a strange feeling, but I was glad the pain had faded. A little numbness didn’t bother me, I’d felt oddly prepared for it because of all the times I’d been to the dentist.
Our hike was incredible. It was the kind of scenery that burns itself into the mind, never to be washed away. Our hike was nice, but everything around Havisupi was on a whole different level. Because of all the water, strange formations are found sculpted into the rock throughout the canyon. Plants and animals were everywhere and seemed to thrive. The rushing blue water, the bulging green leaves, and the colorful red rock all worked together to paint the perfect picture of nature at its finest.
Again, danger swooped in and caught us unawares. On our hike back to camp, we were behind a group of older people who were ascending some switchbacks. We heard a scream and looked up to see a lady tumbling down the rocks. Down and down she went, powerless to slow her fall. Finally, she bounced off a rock and landed on a tree. Cuts and bruises were littered around her body as she hung helplessly over the river below.
Some in my group stayed back and rescued her from the branch while a few of us ran ahead to the camp. It didn’t take a doctor to know that her life was in danger, so we tried to get someone to call search and rescue. Within the hour, the lady was in a helicopter and flying to the nearest hospital. I never learned what became of her, but I’d heard she’d likely live.
When we got back to our camp, the sun was setting. We gathered around a picnic table and started playing games. Nearby our camp was a small wooden bridge with no sides. Another group of campers had set up on the other side. I don’t remember what started it, but before long, we started pitting our best against theirs to see who was king of the bridge. Splash after splash, people fell into the water below. Though I wasn’t very good at the sport myself, I’m proud to say our camp eventually took the victory.
The following celebration was a beautiful moment of human connection. Even though the other camp had lost, they were good sports and joined us for the evening. For a third time, danger struck. While two members of the other camp were changing into dry clothes, a massive cottonwood tree fell and nearly crushed them. Luckily, they had been crouched down, otherwise, the main trunk would have hit their heads.
There was no wind that evening. It was calm and peaceful. The cottonwood tree had to have been at least a hundred years old. What caused it to fall is anyone’s guess. The two men trapped in their tents had to wait for others to come and clear branches. We laughed about the matter later, but it was a nervous laughter. The kind that can only come from a brush with death.
Our third and final day was blissfully uneventful. We still got to experience the beauty of the canyon, but no serious problems arose. The hike out was much worse than the hike in, it being all uphill, and we faced dehydration, but we eventually all made it. The same could not be said for a group that went a week later. A boy swam too close to one of the waterfalls and got sucked under.
