I had a lovely morning on Lake Powell. Apparently I have been there before, on a house boat that I barely remember. But now, I can see it as an adult with my own two eyes. The aqua, crystal water that seems to glow, and does so in the morning light, the pale smooth white faces of towering stone like statues in a church, and just as stern.
The tour boat from Wahweap Marina cut across the water with surprising speed for a double-decker. I took my place on top, under the sun, to watch out at the water. And I was confronted with the continuing story of Overzealous-Lady-with-a-Camera. It’s like she was taking the tour through the screen of her camera, and not with her own person and eyes. Jesus. Anyway.
The air on the water was beautifully cool, and free of the stench of ocean water. It took about two hours to get there, a few minutes of which I actually fell asleep under the gentle and warm sun. It was very hard to resist. The boat slowed to a crawl as we pulled into the narrow channel of the canyon leading to the monument, and the walls cut sharply upward above us, watching us silently. It was quiet, a place of reverence. We pulled into the dock, and I shrugged on my little backpack and took off. Better to haul ass and beat the tourists behind me so I don’t have to fight for a clear picture. I’d learned my lesson the previous day.
There was a beautiful sanctuary of a creek on the short hike in, lined with lush tall grass and full white flowers. Such an oasis in the middle of such arid land. I’m glad I got to see it.
One of the largest arches in the world, it barely fit in the frame of both my camera and phone. The red, solid rock soared over the dipping creek, reigning over the modest canyon and the sheer black and dark drop-offs behind it. All of that, under the clear blue sky. I could barely breathe.
Very tired from rushing to meet the 7:30am boat, I promptly PTFO’d on the ride back.