By Kristy McCaffrey
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| Lake Powell |
A
few year ago my husband and I took our four children, mostly teenagers at the
time, on a houseboat trip on Lake Powell for seven days. Located along the
Arizona/Utah border, this unique area is an outdoor and boater’s paradise. The
lake, created by the completion of the Glen Canyon Dam in 1963, offers
breathtaking views of buttes, pinnacles, and natural arches, all encompassed by
towering walls of red sandstone. Naturally all of the kids complained that this
wasn’t the vacation they wanted. There would be no cell phone service and no
internet. How could they possibly last an entire week without texting or
Facebook?
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| Wahweap Marina, Lake Powell |
We
arrived on a Wednesday morning to check-in at the Wahweap Marina, just north of
Page, Arizona. Several hours passed before we were ready to launch our 75-foot
rental houseboat. A palace on the water, it was replete with five bedrooms, two
bathrooms, a large kitchen with a full-size stove, microwave and dishwasher, a
dining area with a big-screen tv, and a hot tub on the upper deck. The kids—Sam
(18), Ben (16), Katy (15), and Hannah (12)—were awed by the accommodations.
After a lengthy orientation on how the floating mansion worked, we were set
loose. Thankfully, my husband had a working knowledge of circuit breakers,
generators, and how to deal with septic tanks, as well as a dose of “this thing
doesn’t scare me” because we soon realized that driving a giant boat on a lake
crowded with other giant boats is not a task for the faint of heart. Sam followed
us from the marina dock driving our 19-foot Bayliner boat while towing two
rented jet skis. We were told not to drag any additional watercraft behind our
houseboat, despite the fact that everyone else on the lake was doing just that.
Once out-of-sight from the marina, however, my husband tied each jet ski off
the rear of the houseboat, to give the Bayliner back the speed it was losing while
hauling the smaller craft. This turned out to be a mistake.
To
gain access to the interior of Lake Powell we had to traverse a narrow, shallow
inlet. Let’s just say there was traffic and it’s never a good idea to hit
reverse while pulling anything. If the rope on one of the skis hadn’t snapped
(after wrapping around the starboard propeller), we would’ve crushed the
watercraft beneath the back deck. Instead, it drifted away, forcing myself and
Ben onto the remaining jet ski to retrieve it. After that fiasco we felt relieved that nothing really catastrophic had occurred, but soon the houseboat
began experiencing steering problems. We discovered power steering fluid leaking—quite a bit actually—and were forced to an early campsite to await a mechanic
from the marina. Feeling sheepish about the jet ski incident, we hoped the two
weren’t related. The mechanic, who had to do the repairs in two trips, let us
know that we could pull boats and jet skis behind the houseboat but to make
sure the ropes were long and the knots tight.
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| My husband exploring. |
The
following day we drove deeper into the central canyon of Lake Powell, the red
sandstone cliffs dominating the landscape, lending a postcard quality to the
desolate surroundings. I felt almost gluttonous enjoying the view from the
luxury of a traveling hotel, imagining how difficult it must have been for
early explorers. Major John Wesley Powell, for whom the lake was named, first
came through the region in 1869 using wooden dories. He and his comrades spent
over three months exploring and mapping Cataract, Glen, Marble and Grand
Canyons, and his writings are still read and respected today.
We
parked ourselves on a beach at the mouth of West Canyon, having covered about
27 miles since we launched. We discovered that wide, sandy coves don’t always
make the best anchoring spots since the next morning we were stuck. Fortunately,
we used our Bayliner to pull us free but our neighbors weren’t so lucky and had
to call for help from the marina.
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| Our houseboat anchored at Wetherill Canyon. |
The
next morning, once we freed ourselves from shallow waters, we headed for
Dangling Rock Marina, a dock only accessible by boat. This marina, open April
through October, is entirely supplied by barges. The workers live all summer in
housing powered by solar panels. We liked
being near the local mini-mart so much that we parked our houseboat not far from it, at the
mouth of Wetherill Canyon, among a rocky inlet, thus avoiding those sandy
beaches. Another bonus is that we occasionally gained line of sight with Navajo
Mountain, southeast of the lake, and with it spurts of cell phone reception.
Sam and Katy clambered all over the sandstone boulders, acting out their own
version of “Can you hear me now?” We stayed there for three nights.
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My husband and I at Rainbow Bridge, one of the largest
natural spanning bridges in the world. |
On
Saturday we set out in our Bayliner for a chance to view Rainbow Bridge, one of the
largest natural spanning bridges in the world. Located fifty miles from Wahweap,
it’s the farthest into the lake we went. There was a dock, park rangers, and
well-marked paths. We took many pictures and my husband teased me for carrying
a pack filled with food and water since the roundtrip hike was only about 1 ¼
miles, hardly enough to break a sweat. Many Indian tribes have long held this
place to be sacred and it’s only through an agreement with the Navajo Nation
that tourists are allowed to visit. It’s requested that no one walk beneath the
bridge out of respect for these spiritual beliefs, but this can’t be enforced.
We decided not to venture under the thick arch.
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| Jet skis make narrow slot canyons accessible and fun. |
We
spent our days at Wetherill Canyon exploring narrow slot canyons (this is where
jet skis come in handy), wakeboarding, water skiing, visiting the marina for
candy and milk, and watching movies (I’d brought dozens of DVD’s). We enjoyed
the water slide off the back of the boat and all overcame our fear of dropping ten
feet into the lake. Katy and I slept on the upper deck one night, huddled in
our sleeping bags while rain sporadically pelted us. We fed pancakes to three ravens
stalking our campsite and realized that the bats we witnessed each evening
actually lived on our boat, in the canopy up top.
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| My youngest daughter on the houseboat slide. |
On
Monday morning, we moved the houseboat 30 miles back toward Wahweap Marina, in
anticipation of ending the trip the next day. We found a beautiful placid cove
in Warm Creek Bay but it soon turned into a nightmare of chop when the wind
kicked up to such a degree that we thought we were on the ocean. We spent the
night trying to sleep on a seriously rocking boat, messing with our equilibrium
so much that it took us three days after the trip to stop feeling the ground move
beneath us. My husband reset the anchors several times, fearing we might
unhinge during the night, but thankfully we were still in place come morning.
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| A family photo courtesy of my daughter's tripod. |
Despite
having gained valuable experience all week driving our behemoth lodging, we
requested a worker from the marina to board our boat and drive us into dock. We
already feared our hefty deposit wouldn’t be entirely refunded, so thought it best
to cut our losses where we could. We sent Sam and Ben off in the Bayliner to
retrieve vehicles and deposit the watercraft onto trailers for transport home
while the girls and I cleaned up the houseboat. Okay, while I cleaned the
houseboat. It was enough that they gathered their belongings. Soon they were
off to the marina gift shop for ice cream and souvenirs.
This
hadn’t been the vacation the kids had wanted but, if only for a few days, those
phones and computer gadgets were replaced with deep red chasms and towering
cliffs, and a reminder that we all possess the soul of an explorer.
Kristy McCaffrey has been writing since she was very young, but it
wasn’t until she was a stay-at-home mom that she considered becoming published.
She’s the author of several historical western romances, all set in the American
southwest. She lives in the Arizona desert with her husband, two chocolate
labs, and whichever of their four teenaged children happen to be in residence.
My contribution to the new Valentine's Day-themed western romance anthology—Lariats, Letters, and Lace—from Prairie Rose Publications is Mail-Order Mix Up.
