The People of Supai

When I was younger, maybe 8 or so, my Uncle Rick took my parents and I to a Navajo Reservation. I don't remember much, but I do recall talking to an old Indian fellow. He was very kind and quiet, but there was a sternness to him. I was immediately impressed.

The Havasupai people are a rare breed. My first real encounter with them was less than a mile onto the trail. An older Indian, large sunglasses, a bandanna wrapped like a headband around his dome to hold back his long, braided hair, and a loose-fitting plaid button-down shirt rode past me on the path leading a trio of mule, packed with supplies. I stepped aside to let him pass and he quietly acknowledged me with a simple hand gesture (similar to the stereotypical "How" we associate nearly every American Indian with) and a slight nod of the head. I've since greeted many of the folk here the same way and have since been treated with complete acceptance and respect.

The Havasupai people are extremely reserved and quiet. They keep to themselves and don't interact with the campers that wander through town unless absolutely necessary. Frankly, I don't blame them. We are, in fact, visitors on their land. If they choose to keep to themselves, then so be it. I'm just grateful that they allow many people such as myself to explore this incredible oasis. I have the feeling that there are quite a few out there that forget that. I did however, get a rare opportunity to enter into full conversation with an older Havasupai gentleman. While swimming in the water hole below Mooney Falls (I was pretty much the only one there), one of the labor workers approached me and asked if the water was warm enough to swim in. From there, he explained to me in detail about their conservation project in response to the recent floods and everything they were doing, and may need to do, to build back up the aquamarine pools below the falls. I asked a lot of questions about their efforts and he volunteered even more information. I didn't get his name, but talking with him down there was one of the highlights of the trip.

I read somewhere upon doing research for my visit that the Havasupai people are rude and lazy. I could see how someone would mistake their reserved nature for rudeness (which isn't the case...they're actually very kind, just quiet) but as far as being lazy, I couldn't disagree more. From the moment I stepped into the village, I've witnessed a great number of the men herein the midst of hard labor, from construction to farming to tending their livestock and horses. Much of this may be due to the floods that ravaged the lands less than two years ago, but nonetheless, they're working hard. They're very proud people, and I can see that due to the destruction here (which has since begun to blend into the natural landscape, much due to the efforts of its people) they want their visitors to witness a spectacle of beauty and serenity here, not one that represents the harshness and unforgiving side of mother nature.

These are a people whose traditions and values have been carried and retained by them through dozens of generations. Stepping into their lives was like entering a different world, not quite the past, but not quite the present either. The next time I travel to Supai (and I will go back) I hope to extend my stay for longer than just two and a half days, if for nothing else than to become more exposed to their ways of life. I could probably learn a thing or two. Maybe we all could.

The Hike to Havasu

Almost immediately upon arriving at Hualapai Hilltop, I spent some time getting my pack organized and situated for the trail. Weighing about 38lbs, it's important before setting out on a long hike with a frame pack to make sure the weight is properly distributed. The internal frame pack I was using easily allowed for that capability through its numerous straps, pockets and pouches.

Once I had made sure that I had everything I needed and my camelpack was working properly, I locked up my car, took a few photos from the edge and began to descend nearly 1300 feet down the switchbacks and into the valley. It was immediately apparent to me that the hike back up would be a challenge, but that I'd have to deal with it when the time came. The thing about the Grand Canyon....no matter what goes down, must eventually come back up.

Honestly, the hike in was extremely relaxing. I took my time, wandering off the trail here and there to explore the remnants of old mining equipment and a few long-dead horse skeletons left to dry up in the desert. It was a rocky trail though, and there were more than a few times that I was just on the brink of rolling my ankle. You need sure footing on this trail, and a really good pair of sturdy hiking boots.

One of the highlights of walking down the trail were passing of mule trains every half hour or so. Led by a single Havasupai guide, these groups of mule (usually about 3-7 or so) haul anything from mail to supplies to hikers looking to enjoy a nice easy ride out of the canyon. Wild dogs would follow up the rear, passing and weaving between the large boulders and cacti peppered throughout the trail.

Nearly three and half hours after beginning the trail, I found myself wandering into Supai, the Havasupai Indian Village located at the bottom of the canyon. Resources here are sparse, and many of the homes are built from raw materials, somewhat shanty-style. One could say that it looks somewhat like a 3rd-world country down there, but somehow it fits. These are simple, quiet people; farmers and horsemen that have lived isolated at the bottom of this canyon for the past 800 years. It's sounds strange to say, but the village had a unique charm to it. It's not quaint by any means, but suitable for their ways of living. Mutt-like dogs (some look to be mixed with coyote and even wolf) ran wild through the village and surrounding lands, practically tame from their overexposure to people. Horses and mule would pass you in the street as well. They may have escaped their pens, which actually make up most of the village, but I've gotten the impression that unless they're marked or saddled, they're actually wild. I've encountered these animals at least half a dozen times.

After checking in at the camping office located in the middle of town, I continued down the path for another 2 miles to reach my campsite, about 250 yards past Havasu Falls itself. As you descend into the ravine, you can hear the falls roaring below you to your right. Before you know it, you're looking straight down into aquamarine pools and streams, populated by one of the most beautiful and most highly photographed waterfalls in existance. Welcome, to Havasu Falls.

The Transitory Landscape of Indian Road 18

Cell phone service is dead before you even hit Peach Springs. In fact, the last place for services of any kind was 45 miles behind you in the town of Kingman, AZ. Welcome to historic Route 66.

About 7 miles east of Peach Springs is a sign for a road marked "Indian Road 18." There's nothing special about it. There are no signs that say where that road leads. It's just a junction marker that most probably miss as they continue on their way, taking in the sights and peculiarities of the old Route 66. About 20 miles up ahead is an run-down motel with a huge sign advertising tours into "The Incredible and Unique Grand Canyon Caverns!" There's a 40-foot paper-machè brontosaurus standing in front of it. I don't know what this means.

Fifty or so miles behind you is Kingman, a town so over run with strip malls and fast food joints, it's hard to imagine how this place ever fit within the culture of Route 66. Smack dab in the middle of it is an old American-Indian novelty store, complete with giant wood carvings outside the entrance and huge dream catchers hanging from the eaves that could quite possibly be larger than my arm span. I shake my head.

If you make a left (or right, depending on which direction you're coming from) onto Indian Road 18 however, things take a turn. About a half a mile in, you'll see a carved, worn-down, wooden sign (which I unfortunately didn't get a photo of) informing you that you are now officially on Indian Reservation land, and that by entering that land, you submit yourself to the laws and regulations of the Havasupai Indian Tribe, which exist outside of those of the U.S. This sounds foreboding. It's not.


For the next 65 miles, you will encounter nothing but wide open, barely touched American land. Shrubs and bushes surround you at first, with large, black hills rising from the tundra-like landscape in the distance. Soon you find yourself amidst a forest of pine and cedar, which eventually gives way to wide open prairie, rocky desert, and finally winding gullies that tease you with glimpses of the western Grand Canyon around every turn.

You finally end your long, silent drive at Hualapai Hilltop, where the trail down to the village of Supai and Havasu Falls begins. If you decide to wander that far, your journey has only just begun.

The Zen of the Havasupai

Simply put, the trip down to Havasu Falls was one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. I heard someone say once that anything worth seeing is difficult to get to, and no more could be true in this case. To reach the falls, one must drive 65 miles on Indian Road 18, a 2-lane access road off of Route 66 between Saligman and Peach Springs, AZ to Haulapai Hilltop, a small parking area that corrals as many mules as cars. Once there, you have three options; you can pay $125 for a helicopter ride into the village, pay $90 for a mule ride there as well, or hike the 10 miles through switchbacks, steep canyon walls and rocky desert to reach the falls. Honestly, the hike is the way to go.

Once in the village, you check in at the camping office, pay your fees, then hike another 2 miles through town and down the canyon to Havasu Falls and the campgrounds that lie downstream. At that point, the area is yours to explore and it is nothing short of paradise. An oasis in the desert, there is more lush green foliage surrounding you than red stone, and the water runs a deep turquoise blue due to the mineral deposits the flow from the springs that the creek is produced from. Together they form an exotic locale of color and saturation known no where else in the deserts of the American southwest.

The hike out is extremely strenuous. The entire 10 miles is an uphill grade, which is accentuated by the fact that you're probably carrying at least 35lbs of weight on your back (the last 1.25 miles ascends nearly 1200 feet...think about that for a moment), but there is a dramatic sense of accomplishment that you feel upon reaching the top. It's incredible.

I'll produce a few articles that will break down the trip in to a few different sections, so as not to post one long, detailed description, but there's just so much to say, it will be difficult to not ramble on. Most of the photos will have to posted up on Facebook and I took a good amount of video, which I plan to stitch together documentary-style, just so you're able to gain a small experience of what it's actually like to journey down there.

For now though, I must continue from Phoenix to Tucson to visit my Uncle Rick, Aunt Louise and cousin Matt, Tim and Adam. I'm only down there for a night before heading back up here to spend the remainder of my time with the rest of my family, so I'll be sure to post more then. With so much happening on this trip, I can be certain my description of Havasu won't be the only belated article to appear here this week.

Did We Win?

No. Not really, anyway. We didn't win the 1st place award, but we were still acknowledged for winning "Best Film" in Cleveland, along with the other city winners. And that's totally okay. I'm extremely proud of our film, but I'm modest enough to admit that some of the films shown today were just incredible. Every one of them were extremely imaginative, well-produced, and mostly shot on HD, which I hate to say, just makes every last frame look absolutely beautiful.

Following the awards ceremony was the awards party, which I love to go into detail about, but quite frankly, I'm so tired right now, I could pass out at this desk. So, here's a pic or two to enjoy from the evening and I'll make sure to detail the events of tonight in much more detail in a few days. Starting tomorrow, I'll be off the grid until Thursday evening, as I'll be below the rim of the Grand Canyon, while hiking and camping with the Havasupai Indians on their reservation by Havasu Falls. A thorough account of that trip will also be updated later on Thursday or Friday, depending on when I'll find the time to catch up after I arrive in Phoenix.

Before I sign off though, I just want to thank everyone from my team for getting us to this point tonight. Sage was a perfect partner and sounding board during the entire process, Marty really helped set the tone of the film through his music, Leila, Pete and Dawson did a phenomenal job at piecing together a really fun, tense screenplay and our entire cast, especially Mike, were nothing short of memorable in each of their own ways. Great job, guys. I can't wait to share this trophy with each and every one of you when I get home.

Barrista's and the Strip

Deciding to skip the last screening of the day, my friend Erin and I left the Hilton to go grab some dinner. We drove around for a bit before finally deciding on an Italian restaurant that's a favorite of her brother's named Barrista's. Upon walking in, I was immediately reminded of an dimly-lit version of Buca di Beppo. There were old photos everywhere, a huge collection of nostalgia lining the walls and ceilings, and dining tables within nooks and crannies scattered throughout the restaurant. Plus, the place comes with unlimited free wine. And it was actually a decent house selection. No wonder her brother loves this place.

We ordered our food and spent the next few hours catching up over our meals. I unfortunately wasn't able to eat much again, even though I devoured my lunch earlier in the day. The queasiness I had suffered from the day before had returned almost immediately upon sitting down and I wasn't able to fit more than a few bites of a fantastic plate of lasagna down my throat before calling it quits. It was embarrassing, sure, but Erin was really cool about it. Surprisingly enough, sipping the wine over the next hour or two at the table actually helped settle my stomach quite a bit and before we knew it, it was well after 9:00. She needed to get back home since she had to get up early for work in the morning and I needed to get back to the hotel to change and find out where everyone was at.

After dropping me off and saying our good-byes, I headed back in to get changed. My buddy Jason was out somewhere on the strip and I wanted to catch up with the pub crawl event that the head of the Filmapolooza committee was sponsoring. It was nuts. First it started at Gustav's at Paris, then over to the Bellagio's Sensei and on to the Spanish Steps at Ceaser's Palace (as I'm told it's not the REAL Ceaser's Palace...like, Ceaser didn't actually, live there.) The next stop was the Sport's Bar at the Mirage then Gilley's Bar at Treasure Island and finally ending with some Bullriding at KC's. Unfortunately, my camera was in the hotel room during this entire saga, so I'll have to post a few internet-found pics instead.

Today's big event is the Q&A with Jason Reitman, Ivan Reitman's son and director of Juno, Thank You For Smoking and the recently released Up in the Air. Shortly after will be the final screening of films followed by the Awards Ceremony, where we'll find out who's making it to Cannes and who's going to win the Top 48 Hour Film of 2009. Dinner and the awards party will be taking place after wards at the Las Vegas Country Club, just across the street from the Hilton. Wish us luck!

Las Vegas, Day 2: "The 4th Floor" Screens

Do you want to hear something interesting? My hotel room at Fitzgeralds is on the 4th Floor. The elevator is programmed to say, "welcome to the 4th floor" when the doors open. Yesterday's screening of "The 4th Floor" closed out the 4th screening series of the Filmapolooza, which happened to be exactly at 4:00 in the afternoon. It makes you wonder what odd occurences will happen today regarding the number '4.' We'll just have to wait and see.

So yesterday was the official screening of "The 4th Floor," at the Filmapolooza, and it was met with great response. People laughed at all the right parts, and Bruce's 'Rasberry' character was a huge hit during both of his appearences, espcially the scene with the blender, which produced a sound from someone in the crowd that sounded like a barking dog. ...I'm not kidding. I think someone even got Marty's sign-language clue regarding the toilet, as a few abrupt chuckles were heard in the back of the screening room just after he did it.

It did, in fact, close out the fourth screening, which contained some pretty good short films that I believe will stand as our stiffest competition so far, as most were well produced and creatively done. Of course, there were a few duds in there, but among the best were Las Vegas's buddy film "Yard Sale," Alberquerque's hysterical musical "A Bit Off Key," and New York City's superhero film "Das Tagebuch," which defined its superhero as a ordinary, genuine good person, not your typical 'man-in-cape" scenerio. Columbus's romance "Imagine This," was well-shot and cleverly written, as was San Jose's sci-fi, population control flick, "Ratòn." The stand-out for ridiculousness though was Portland, Oregon's "Mr. Merryweather and The Magical Meth Lab," a bizarre musical take on Charlie and the Chocolate Factory that does indeed feature flavored crack rocks, liquified methamphetimines and the magical Golden pill, the key to entering the garage-based lab that was hidden around the world in illegally-distributed bottles of pills.

Did they save the best for last? I may be a bit biased, but you bet your stones they did.

Somersaults of a Flu-like Nature

My body was bound to crash at some point and I'm actually impressed that I went as long as I did. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start from the beginning. I mentioned yesterday that I flew across the country on nearly a single hour of sleep. Compund that with the series of late nights that I had during the week preparing for the trip, dealing with a few insomniatic issues a few of those nights as well (it's an ongoing problem that occurs when i have a lot on my mind), and one of the longest, most stressful weeks at work that I've had in recent memory, and you have, simply put, a complete physical shut down. Welcome to my first night in Vegas.

I was okay until the middle of the first screening, which was when my stomach decided it was going to start training for the Olympic gymnastics team. You know that feeling you get in your mouth right before you blow chunks, where you start salivating like a St. Bernard? Yup, that was me. Granted, I never actually got sick, but the ongoing sensation of it was even just awful. I knew I hadn't eaten since the plane, so I got myself a chicken wrap from a deli in the hotel before returning back for the second screening. That actually did help for a while, but it wasn't long before the queeziness returned.

After a short nap following the screenings, Brian, Amy and I went out for dinner where I barely choked down a half of a breadbowl soup and a ceaser salad. For the rest of the night, I was miserable. It's my first night back in Las Vegas and all I want to do is go back to the room and sleep, but I wanted to tough it out for as long as I could. Plus, Erin was planning on coming down to meet us after she was done babysitting, so I figured at some point I might hit my second wind (it might actually be around my fourth at this point...but, semantics). Down the street, the committee was holding a kareoke event for all of the participants of the Filmapolooza, so the three of us went down there to check that out. ...and no, I did not sing. It was fun and I chatted it up with a bunch of the people there, but I was crashing hard. After about an hour, I made the conscious decision to head back to the hotel and call it a night. It was around 11:30pm, west coast time.

I feel 100% better this morning, but I think the lack of sleep left me suceptible to a minor head cold. No worries, I have some medicine here, so as long as I knock that out in the next few days before the hike, I'll be fine. Plus, the dry desert air out here will do me some good. I felt bad about bailing on Erin last night, but I recieved a message from her this morning from around 3:30am letting me know that she had passed out on the couch, so it all worked out. She's planning on heading down here today to see the screening of "The 4th Floor", so I'm sure we'll hang out for the rest of the day after that. We may even head out to Red Rock Canyon for the afternoon if we have some time. I hope so...I heard it's amazing out there.

The third screening starts in two hours. I think I may grab some food and sit out by the pool for a while before then.

Las Vegas, Day 1: The Filmapolooza Begins

Welcome to Las Vegas. "What happens in Vegas, stays in..." ...nope, I'm pretty much going to chronicle it all here.

So my friend Erin picked me up from the airport and drove me to Fitzgerald's Hotel on Fremont street, where I'll be sharing a room with Brian Bowers, the producer for the Cleveland division of the 48 Hour Film Project. The rates were incredibly reasonable (somewhere around the lines of $32/night), so split that in half and I'll basically be paying a third the cost for my whole trip of what it'd cost for just one night at the Hilton on the strip. The cab ride over to the convention center is around $12, so split that again and I'll still be saving plenty of money. It's all about being economical.

Erin and I origianlly made plans to watch all of the screenings together, but she had some things come up yesterday that she needed to get done, so we said our farewells in front of the hotel and made plans to meet up later after she was done babysitting her niece and nephew. I brought all my bags up to the room and met Brian's girlfriend Amy, who then shared a cab with me over to the Hilton where they would be holding all of the screenings for the films. This sort of threw me off.

It's not a theater. It's a ballroom. The proejctor is beautiful and they have a nice stage sort of set up, but it's still a hotel ballroom...off-yellow textured wallpaper, horrendous floral carpeting, uncomfortable metal-framed chairs...just not what I expected from a movie screening. From what I hear, they usually do set this up in a theater, but this year the Filmapolooza is in association with the NAB show, a film-maker's convention taking place at the hotel. Options for space were limited, so they had to improvise. Okay... I'll give them that.

Yesterday was the first two rounds of screenings and if I may be completely candid, I wasn't impressed. Some of the films were just odd, containing little to no story, shoddy camera work and embarrassing displays of acting. This isn't to say that there were a few however, that were clever or done well. "Day Off" was campy and fun to watch. "Subterfuge" had a great sense of quirky humor by using clever cutaways to develop it's characters and "Western Promises" was a brilliant display of handling the 'western' category...without actually shooting a western. This could've been my favorite from the entire day. But films like "Halycon" and that near-slient one from Beijing were beautifully shot, but that's about it. I didn't once see a useful combination of good direction, cinematography and writing. As I've gotten compliments on "The 4th Floor" from many people on these very aspects, including the 48 Hour Judges Panel, this gives me hope. The top ten films go to Cannes Film Festival next month. Keep your fingers crossed.

The previously mentioned films may also be viewed at: www.48.tv/

And Away We Go...

I took my time last night. I cooked some dinner and relaxed for a bit before tackling the last bit of packing I had left. Most of it was already done, but I first needed to make sure my bills were paid, my mail was held and that everything with the house was in order before double checking that I had enough clean underwear to last me the week. ...because we all know that you can never have enough clean underwear.

It was around midnight when I realized that I was still wide awake. I had planned on getting to bed early so that I was fully rested for the flight and the busy day ahead that the Filmapolooza had planned for me, but it just wasn't happening. Maybe I had too much on my mind. I tried to lay down for a bit, but it was no use. I was charged. 2am soon rolled around...then 3...then 4...

I first woke up at 5:15 to my cell's alarm. I sat up, acknowledged the insanity of traveling across the country on a single hour's sleep and leaned over to pet my dog, who was laying peacefully next to me. ...That's the last thing I remember.

Needless to say, I was a bit rushed this morning, and I just hope I didn't forget anything. I'm pretty sure I didn't,...I was fairly thorough last night, but with my luck, I'll realize somewhere on the trail that I'm missing something crucial and have to rely on everything Bear Gryll's ever taught me in order to survive. ...at least I was on time for my flight.

I'll be landing in Las Vegas soon. The flight has been fairly uneventful except for the sporatic screaming child two rows in front of me. I swear...there's always one. I ate a muffin and the smallest bowl of cereal I've ever seen in my life, both accompanied by a midget bananna. How un-PC of me, I know. But seriously, it was like the size of my index finger (insert "that's what she said" comment here.)

We just flew over the Hoover Dam and Lake Mead, so I can imagine that our descent will be happening fairly quickly. Which means I'll have to put my computer away before the evil stewardess-lady gives me the stink eye again. Again, you ask? Yes, again. First off, she's frightening. Like, little Damien's Nanny-frightening. (What was her name?...damnit.) Second, I get it. My bag is supposed to be ALL the way under the seat in front of me. Those last two inches just might throw off the weight balance of the plane and could possibly send us careening smack into the side of a mountain like a bloody dart. You're a hero lady and you may have saved us all.

Alright , there's my cue. Next up, Filmapolooza 2010.

The Art of Efficient Packing

As departure looms (10 hours!), and I've begun to start organizing what I'll be bringing along with me, it has become ever-more obvious that I'll be packing for nearly 3 different trips all wrapped up in one. Las Vegas and the Filmapolooza event will require some nicer clothing, including a suit and nicely polished pair of boots.

Immediately after I leave Las Vegas, I'll be driving into the Havasupai Indian Reservation, where, following a 10-mile hike from the car, I'll be camping for the next three days with nothing to eat, wear and live on other than what I'll be carrying my back. This calls for a completely different mindset of packing, in that I have to consider weight, distribution and absolute necessity with all that plan on bringing along. Following a grueling hike out of the canyon, the last four days of my trip will consist of an casual, yet overdue visit to my extended-family in Phoenix and Tucson before heading back to Cleveland on Monday morning.

Suits and casual wear in one case. A 3-day living supply in another. My computer, camera and journal in a carry on. Let the journey begin.