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Convinced that my wife and I were finally comfortable with steering and docking procedures, Steve said goodbye, jumped into his powerboat and quickly disappeared. My stomach sank a little when he left--and at least one daughter noticed. "It's easy, Dad," coaxed Nicole, one of the twins, then wisely advised, "Just don't sink it!"
We headed to our evening destination, a sandy beach hidden inside an alcove about 25 miles up the lake. It would take nearly three hours to get there. With the aid of a map and binoculars, we finally located an empty 80-ft.-wide crescent covered with soft, salmon-colored sand. No other boat or person was in sight. Once we had anchored, our daughters made a mad dash for the upper deck in what would be the first of innumerable shrieking rides down the slide into clear 80[degree] water. Though the bow of the boat was wedged securely on sand, the water off the stern was 12 ft. deep, ideal for swimming and diving.
In front of us, some three miles into the desert, stood Tower Butte, a massive rock formation rising 900 ft. and resembling Devil's Tower in Wyoming. Everywhere we looked we could see a stunning variety of sandstone canyons and buttes, some visible at more than 30 miles. As the sun descended, the canyon colors changed from burnt red to deep purple, then a mixture of lavender and pink.
Though we were enjoying the here and now, it was evident that the past is present everywhere at Lake Powell. The topography has been shaped by 2 billion years of geologic activity. Dinosaurs that walked the earth 150 million years ago have left tracks in Glen Canyon. Scattered along the lake's canyon walls are ancient petraglyphs chiseled by the Anasazi pueblo dwellers some 700 years ago. The lake is named after Major John Wesley Powell, a Civil War veteran who led the first scientific expedition into this region in 1869. Some of the rocks here still bear his initials. At night, I showed our girls the fluffy film of the Milky Way--light from stars that have been traveling through space for thousands of years. A meteor streaked across the sky with its ephemeral tail of fire.
Sleeping on the houseboat came surprisingly easily, with the soothing rhythm of the waves slapping softly against the hull. Morning arrived languidly on Lake Powell. The first glow of sunlight painted the canyons and cliffs with orange and red, and the still water turned brilliant blue. The gentlest of winds blew across the desert. It was a perfect start to the day, especially one in which our twin girls would turn eight.
Over the course of the next three days, we ventured into the desert, surveying exotic plants and animal life, always on the lookout for rattlesnakes, scorpions and coyotes. Afternoons were filled with trips in the speedboat, voyages of discovery. We would weave our way between narrow cliff walls a thousand feet high and explore canyons with such intriguing names as Forbidden Canyon, Dungeon Canyon and Hidden Passage. At every turn, we would find a surprise--a bizarre rock formation or a solid rock amphitheater suspended above us.
Lake Powell is so huge one can't possibly explore it all in a single visit--or 30, for that matter. People who have spent most of their life here admit that they find new side canyons and hidden alcoves each time they venture out. That may be why 60% of all houseboat renters return.