Our Elderhostel group of 19 spent six days on three houseboats out of Wahweap Marina in Glen Canyon National Recreation Area which administers Lake Powell on the Arizona/Utah border. Over 2000 miles of shoreline can be explored, more than the entire west coast of our country. To gain perspective of the cliff height in the photo above, note our lead houseboat dwarfed by the towering cliff. The white rock near the bottom has calcium carbonate deposit because that area has been under water for four decades. A multi-year drought had the reservoir level 97 feet below normal in fall of 2003 and the "bathtub ring" is the result. Lake Powell is a reservoir designed to store water in the wet years and gradually release it during the dry years, thus steadily generating electric power and maintaining consistent water flow down the Colorado River, and it has been doing its job admirably during this lengthy period of below average moisture, though everyone hopes rain and snowmelt will soon refill the vast reservoir.
Seven kayakers here are just beginning a paddle up Labyrinth Canyon. We carried 17 kayaks on our three houseboats, 14 singles and three tandems, and used them every day as we explored bays and side canyons. The scenery around each bend seemed even more beautiful than that before, and when the water ended up-canyon, we could usually get out and hike farther up the canyon. If kayaking isn't your passion, Yavapai College also offers other specialty trips on Lake Powell, including hiker, artist, and photographer excursions among others.
The still, clear water beautifully reflects the colorful canyon walls as we kayak up Anasazi Canyon (also called Mystery Canyon) on one of our kayak explorations. Being the off season, there were only a few times when personal water craft intruded on our quiet and calm, but when they did, we experienced noise and waves bouncing off the narrow canyon walls and were glad when they departed. The colors of the walls changed as the light angle changed, presenting a kaleidoscope of colors throughout the day, and our six days of ideal weather added to the perfection of the trip.
One of our three guides/captains, Carol Sue (far right) led us on our kayaking/hiking jaunts. Here we are exploring Labyrinth Canyon as it narrows into a slot canyon. After viewing some petroglyphs, several of this group then continued quite a way up the canyon as it constricted more, and when a ten foot high boulder clog blocked the way, Carol Sue and I chimney-climbed over it and proceeded until time forced us to return to the kayaks and paddle back to the houseboats. We also were treated to a hike led by captain/head guide/geologist Jeff to see dinosaur tracks fossilized in rocks, and the third guide/captain, Mike, instructed on us on the history of the region.
The entire group:
Kneeling: Smitty and Suzanne
Row 1: Gary, Kay, Dean, Karen, Lynda, Chuck, Andi, Denise, Joan, Sandee, Sandy, Jean, Mary Alice, and Buzz
Back row: Joanne, Ken, and Tom
I was the only one to sleep off the houseboat and I did so all five nights, enjoying views like this. Despite all my backpacking and camping, I am seldom in a locale where dearth of rain and bugs inspires sleeping under the stars, yet where but outdoors can you enjoy not five-star but million-star accommodations? Each morning as I awoke to sunrise, thoughts of the previous day's activities leapt to mind -- and from there to paper -- and the resulting poem, which basically wrote itself, follows:
Lake Powell Reveries 2003
by Chuck Morlock
(Early morning thoughts after five nights of sleeping under the stars .)
Atop the hillside, red sand my bed,
blazing stars enshroud my head,
houseboat below on lapping sand,
Gregory Butte commanding the land.
Eyes weary, I fight sleep off
for awesome firmament engenders thought
of places distant, of adventures near,
of family and friends, of love, of fear,
of earth's great circle spinning here
amongst this starry cosmic sphere,
until thoughts cease and sleep takes hold
in wafting breeze and pleasant cold,
and dreams supplant what eyes today gazed
as kayak and houseboat toppled waves,
of Glen Canyon's glory, long concealed,
by multi-year drought, now newly revealed,
its soaring, timeless, sheer-wall cliffs,
canvas for ageless petroglyphs,
its sandstone flats where dinosaurs trod,
its slot canyons choked with boulder clog,
till sunlight rises and full moon sinks
below azure waters etched with pink
and dazzling sunshine casts its sheen
painting red rock aglow and white rock agleam,
bathing Navaho Mountain in morn's new gold,
reminding of tales the ancients told,
flaunting coyote tracks ringing my bed,
testament that wildness is not dead.
My rousing mind celebrates all it sees,
till swarming gnats end my reveries,
and back to the houseboat I retreat
to forever relish Lake Powell memories.
Copyright 2003