Be Admiral Of Your Own Houseboat

Just as we were setting out on the family vacation, the reality of what I'd done began to hit me. Six months earlier, in a burst of frustration over a long winter in New Jersey, I'd booked a houseboat on a lake somewhere in the Arizona wilderness. My cousin had taken a similar vacation and raved about it. Up to then, my nautical experience consisted of rowing a 12-ft. boat in New York City's Central Park. Awaiting us in Arizona, though, was not a modest little craft. Nope, I'd be piloting a 60-ft., 15-ton double-decker leviathan, dubbed the Admiral by the rental company because it was the largest model in its fleet. What had I been thinking? Our three kids were eager; my wife, game. But I was certain we'd end up as another tragic summer-boating statistic. Worse, a houseboating statistic.

Vacationing by houseboat was largely unheard of 30 years ago. But in the past decade, houseboat rentals have surged to the point where reservations are often booked a year in advance. At our destination of Lake Powell--a serpentine waterway straddling Arizona and Utah--fewer than two dozen houseboats were available for rent 30 years ago; today there are 400. One reason for their popularity is that houseboating offers a novel way to see some of the most spectacular scenery in the country. Plus, houseboats offer family and friends an opportunity to be under way while under one roof--or rather, deck.

Lake Powell is considered the mecca of houseboating, with its 1,960 miles of shoreline--longer than the entire West Coast--and 96 large canyons. The lake's breathtaking beauty has beckoned an increasing number of boaters, water skiers, fishermen, hikers and campers in recent years. This, despite (or perhaps because of) the fact that it is located in one of the most remote areas of the Southwest. Its surrounding landscape is part of Glen Canyon, a beautiful but harsh area once referred to as "the place no one knew."

To get there, we flew to Las Vegas and picked up a minivan for the 300-mile drive to Page, Ariz. Our girls--one nine and twins just shy of eight--took in the desolate landscape, with its red rock spires and stunning mesas, and fired off questions: "Are there dinosaur eggs buried here? Where are the Indians? Did you run over any rattlesnakes?" Gradually, the scenery turned flatter, less interesting and more relentless in its dull brown hues. Five hours passed, and then, without warning, a striking new color showed up on the horizon. An oasis of emerald blue-green water appeared like a mirage. We had reached Lake Powell.

Nothing could prepare a traveler for this sight. Imagine the Grand Canyon filled with water. Lake Powell's channels wind through amazing formations of brilliantly colored rocks, undulating canyons and soaring buttes. Along the shoreline are hundreds of hidden beaches that slope gently into the depths. All this is set against the backdrop of more than 1 million acres of pristine desert, much of it belonging to the Navajo Indian Reservation. Those who have experienced the vistas and serene waters of Lake Powell call it the crown jewel of the Southwest.

Surprisingly, little more than a generation ago this jewel didn't even exist. Lake Powell was not formed until after 1963, when the government built a huge dam in Glen Canyon to control the waters of the Colorado River and generate hydroelectric power for the growing Southwest. The project outraged environmentalists and archaeologists because it submerged ancient homes, wall writings and burial grounds of the ancient Puebloans. It took 17 years for the Colorado River and other tributaries to fill the gorges and turn Lake Powell into the nation's second largest man-made lake. (Only Lake Mead, which borders Arizona and Nevada, is bigger.)

We drove up to the Wahweap Lodge, a sleek-looking hotel by the water's edge, and eyed the 60 or so houseboats bobbing at anchor, ranging in size from the 36-ft. Standard class, which sleeps six, up to the 60-ft. Admiral, which can bed more than 10. All the rental boats and the five marinas scattered around the 186-mile-long lake are owned and operated by the Aramark Corp., the concessionaire for the National Park Service. Before turning in for the night, we had a little preparation to do. I gave the video on houseboat safety my undivided attention. And by the time I finished the paperwork--from insurance forms to preparing passenger-manifest records--I felt as if I'd bought the boat, not rented it.

The next morning, we marched down to the marina to meet Steve Ward, an Aramark official who, at 52, has spent more than 30 years on Lake Powell. "O.K., are you ready to see your Admiral houseboat?" he asked. Before any of us could respond, there it was--every bit as enormous as I had imagined it in my worst anxiety attack. Once we were inside, though, the angst turned to wonder. It looked more like a luxury two-story condo in Trump Tower than a boat. The Admiral came with a fully equipped kitchen, a large oval dining table that could comfortably seat eight, four private bedrooms, two bathrooms, central air conditioning, an outdoor barbecue grill, a large TV, VCR and CD player, and cockpit controls. That was just the lower deck. Up top was a second cockpit, a wet bar and another refrigerator. Our girls zeroed in on what counted most for them--a steep water slide right off the top deck.