it took me a whole 19 years and 5 months to get down to Lake Powell. The place is beautiful. I need a boat. I need to get back there, and quick!
For months the roommates and I have been building up for our Powell trip with Sam's family. It was going to be our last hoorah before school began and we had other things to worry about other than who was the tannest. (I still lose) Let's just say the trip was the cherry on top of a great summer.... but laced with bad luck and serious groan moments around every corner. Hear me out.
Friday night we packed up and got the heck out of Dodge around 4. We were on a mission to get to the dock before 9 and it got dark. Our hopes were high until 5 minutes into the trip when we hit the dreaded traffic on the freeway, which we sat in it for a good hour, hardly moving at all. Thank you wrecks and rubberneckers.
We definitely didn't make it to Powell that night, so as our hope sunk with the setting sun, we arranged other plans, and found ourselves at the "Whispering Sands" motel for the night in Hanksville- population the owners of the motel. Hey- at least I got to shower, though. And our towels were folded all artsy like, too, which is always a plus.
In the morning we fueled up on grapes and Goldfish, then headed out for the lake. FINALLY! The red cliffs were a warm welcome as we got the boat in the water and jetted off to the slip, where the houseboat lives when it isn't used. The next couple hours were spent settling, trying to craft pb and j's with our loaves of extremely smashed bread, and then it was boat time. We tooled around for a bit, Sam showed us how it was done on the surfboard, and then Kels and Jo took a whack at it. I was just getting ready to try my hand on the board when suddenly the whir of the boat stopped. Uh oh. Sam's dad tried again and again to get the motor to hum, but it just refused. We were stranded in the middle of the lake. Not even 2 hours into our boating adventures, and we had a broken boat. After many attempts to get the MasterCraft rolling once more, we threw up the orange flag, and a group in a boat about 30 years old and half the size of our rig came to the rescue, towing us back to the slip. What a sight we were- big beautiful speedboat behind a tiny little tugboat. We got lots of looks.
Back in the slip we napped while Sam's dad made lots of phone calls and headed back to Price to get the boat's fuel pump replaced. What a saint he is! Back in the slip we held the fort down, and things went pretty good til around dinnertime when we tried to make spaghetti, but the gas refused to work, the refrigerator would not stop beeping, and my blood pressure was spiking. We had the brilliant idea of firing up the grill and hoping we could cook spaghetti on there.... and it WORKED! The food was good, and the rest of the night went pretty smoothly. (Besides the fact that the snackbar ran out of ice cream. Now THAT was a crisis) We just could hardly wait to get out of the slip the next day!
Sunday morning Sam's dad came back with the newly fixed boat, and that meant our trip could finally begin. We untied all the ropes and hit the high seas in the houseboat, searching out a good spot to anchor down, far away from everything- which isn't hard at Powell, seeing as it is HUGE. After driving for a couple hours on the lake, which is the craziest feeling, by the way, we found a great secluded spot, anchored down, and then jumped on the speedboat for a Sunday "drive". That's gotta be one of the best feelings- gliding around the glassy water, feeling the misty breeze on your face, and having the warm air whip around your face. Mmmmm I need a boat. The night was spent eating a lot of good food, again, cooked grill style (what good pioneers we'd be) and then laughed when poor Sam had a bug fly in her ear and burrow it's way down there. No worries, though. We killed it with rubbing alcohol and it didn't eat any of her brain!
Monday was play day. We got up early, jumped aboard, and spent the day surfing, (and getting a fat lip when it smacked me in the mouth) wake boarding, and cliff jumping. The water was warm, the sun shone all day, and it was PERFECT. We took a lunch break and a little time to recoop, and then it was back to the lake for tubing. And a lot of Tube Wars, which basically means pushing everybody off the tubes mercilessly. So fun. We were definitely feeling it the next day! Monday night all things were going well until I went outside to get my drying swimsuit off the side of the boat, and found nothing where I'd put it. I searched around in the dark, but found nothing. Looks like the lake had taken claim of it, and for all I knew, it was 200 feet down. Kind of a damper to a good day, right? Yep, I thought so too.
Tuesday was our last day. I woke up, glanced at the lake, and then something caught my eye. about 50 yards off, I could see something lurking in the water. MY SWIMSUIT! It'd survived! I jumped on a tube and rowed myself over, and me and orange swimsuit had a happy reunion. The clouds were parting! I'd actually had a little good luck!! The rest of the day was good- we continued tube wars, although it hurt to move, we did a little more cliff jumping, and then it was time to head back home. We spent a long time cleaning, packing, and trying to eat all our food so we wouldn't have to pack it all- pretty sure we would have been set for at least another week with the food we'd brought! Anyways, after hours of packing up we all jumped on the speedboat one last time, locked up the houseboat, and Sam's dad dropped the keys into the lake. They were going down fast, so Sam's dad jumped in, rescued them, and then had a horrible realization. He'd had his iphone in his pocket. It was dead. Now that was a cherry on top of a perfect adventure, right? What a saint he is!
The ride home went surprisingly quick, and now it is back to school mode. I can't hardly believe it is that time again- but then again it feels like I ended winter semester eons ago. We start moving in today- goodbye laziness of summer and hello craziness of BYU. I'm ready.