Burney Falls is sacred to Native tribes. Now it’s being loved to death by tourists | Bartell's Backroads

Burney Falls is sacred to Native tribes. Now it’s being loved to death by tourists | Bartell's Backroads

At first glance, McArthur-Burney Falls Memorial State Park is just another natural wonder on a travel influencer’s bucket list—a roaring, 129-foot waterfall framed by evergreens and cooled by snowmelt filtering from Burney Mountain. President Theodore Roosevelt once called it the “eighth wonder of the world.”

But for the Ilmawi band of the Pit River Tribe, Burney Falls is more than a photo op. It is a sacred, living altar.

“Our creation story tells about our areas and where we come from,” said Jessie Rouse, a member of the Ilmawi Pit River Tribe. “Our people come from healing doctors, stargazers… storytellers, basket makers. And this area is one of the many areas within the Pit River tribe that has all of these things.”

Tribal members believe the site carries healing powers. The basin of water behind the falls, known as Ojibwa, is regarded as medicine.

“It’s very important to us for spiritual reasons, one being a cleanse,” said Pit River Councilman Gregory Feather Wolfin. “You submerge yourself in the falls you and ask the falls to take that away or remedy some of those issues.”

Today, this sacred ground is under pressure. More than 350,000 people visit Burney Falls annually. The draw of Instagram-worthy views has led to crowds, off-trail trampling, and injuries. The crush of visitors prompted the closure of the main trail to the base of the falls in 2024 due to dangerous erosion.

Rouse often finds herself having to confront tourists who stray into off-limits areas.

“You guys can't go down there. No, you just can't go down there!” she yelled at a group of visitors in one recent encounter.

She says too many are unaware of the cultural significance.

“These are living lands. And these living lands don't need to be trampled on.”

Despite its popularity, Burney Falls has limited infrastructure—just 200 parking spaces and a single kiosk entrance. Supervising Ranger Blair Pubols describes the situation as “Disneyland without the resources.”

“You look on social media and the photos they are taking—they’re cropping out the 300 other people in the background,” said Pubols.

The park's general plan, drafted in 1997, proposed rerouting Highway 89 to reduce foot traffic and damage. It also recommended implementing shuttle and reservation systems. But the plan remains largely unfulfilled, mainly due to funding and bureaucratic hurdles.

“It gives us that separation from the entrance to implement the other solutions,” said District Superintendent Matt Teague. “Such as a shuttle system, a reservation system, and control the demand at any given time in the park.”

Burney Falls was saved from development once before. In the 1920s, the McArthur family donated the land to the state, blocking a PG&E plan to build a hydroelectric dam that would have submerged the falls. But elsewhere, the Pit River Tribe wasn’t so lucky. In the 1950s, PG&E moved forward with another dam that displaced hundreds of tribal members.

In a 1970s UC Berkeley documentary, tribes learned they would only be compensated 47 cents an acre for their lost land—based on 1850s land values.

“It was forcible, forced removal of a lot of Indigenous people,” said Rouse. “Whether they wanted to or not, it happened. There was no stopping them.”

In recent years, California State Parks has made efforts to include tribal voices in management discussions. But long-term solutions—like highway rerouting—remain years away.

“There’s a lot of conversations and different voices,” said Pubols. “If you can think of something, we’ve probably thought about it as well.”

For now, park staff and tribal leaders are urging visitors to avoid weekends, carpool, and consider visiting one of California’s other 280 state parks.

“At some given point,” said Rouse, “they have to know that when you’re entering those areas that it’s about respect. I just want people to respect our area. That’s it.”

ANOTHER SACRED SITE ON THE BACKROADS:  Salmon are easy to find for the Karuk People as the Klamath River at last flows free through California, unblocked by dams.