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Many years ago I was experimenting with boat ownership and spent one great summer exploring Lake Powell in Northern Arizona. It was only one summer as I quickly learned those warnings from friends that can be summed in this, "a boat is a whole in the water you poor your money into", that being said I wanted to share an experience as I recalled it today. Just as a note, I loved Lake Powell and exploring it was a wonderful experience.

But this story is about a rather bad experience I had on Lake Powell. It is going to be lengthy, in part why I decided to share it, to test those lengthy post, stories if you will. I want to see how to best present them and tell this story at same time. 

The story begins one summer three day weekend I had planned to visit Lake Powell while living in Flagstaff, AZ. I had purchase a new boat about a month before, and was very excited about the trip. Before this trip I only had this boat out on Lake Mary just south of Flagstaff and it is pretty small lake and can get over crowded quickly, creating very rough water conditions especially for water skiing. Yes the boat was of the design to tow skiers and was just 17.5 feet in length.

The was a Glastron-Carlson I bought new while working at a RV & Truck show for the car dealer I was working for at that time. Yes, it was one of those impulse purchases where it was love at first sight. I had only briefly been on any boat maybe two or three times in my life prior to making this purchase. I never even had so much as steered one before, let alone total control the operation.

The road trip there was pretty uneventful as I recall, although it is about a 3 hour drive and being new to towing something, I am sure I was happy to be there. Launching the boat of course was an anxious moment for me as I was not very good at backing it up yet. But I did manage to get it launch, loaded with all the gear and off on to the lake, map in hand. The lady that accompanied me on this trip was even less experience then I was on a boat, so I remember thinking that was a relief, as she would not know the mistakes I would likely make.

Lake Powell for those who have never been there is a man made lake after they built Glen Canyon Dam to back up the Colorado River into the canyon lands behind it. The canyons are mostly red sandstone and make an outstand backdrop to the lake. Summer temperatures often reach into the 100 degree range which you do not notice so much as you travel along the lake in a boat. That is until you finally stop and realize you are as red as a lobster and pray you remembered to by some sunblock for the next day.

We travel few miles up the lake late that afternoon and found a place to set up camp in one of the many tributary canyons. The next morning we got fairly early start and continued to venture up the lake following the path of the Colorado River and just taking in the sites. I was determined to reach "the end" of the lake, which as it got later in the day and we need to set up camp again I realized I was not going to reach the "end". We had already traveled well over 100 miles up the lake and I know by the end of next day I need be off the lake and heading home to Flagstaff. Now 100 miles by car, well no problem but 100 miles by boat through narrow canyons with lots of twist and turns, that is many hours of travel. We set camp for the night and welcomed the shade of the night.

The next morning we got up and were relieved that is was overcast and not so hot, I think we both had reached our limit on sun intake. We started to trip back down the lake and it started pretty good as I recall. But soon it was raining and the wind was picking up, it was going to storm. And boy storm it did! For the next few hours I kept a firm grip on the steering and throttle as I battled 3 and 4 foot swells and the water blew up against the canyon walls and back into the river. Anyone who has been in choppy water with a small boat will appreciate it when I tell you we where getting hammered.

Finally very late in the afternoon we reached the northern edge of Wahweap Bay, I remember having a great sense of relief as I knew this journey was about done, and soon we would be out of the boat. But it was not to be, Wahweap Bay is very large and the wind was kicking up 5 and 6 foot swells, rain still falling in buckets. I don't mind telling you I was terrified, but at this point physically committed to crossing the Bay, about equal distance to the marina as it would be to retreat back to calmer waters.

All of the sudden the lady that was with me lunged into the back seating area attempting to catch and hold down the tent we had been using to cover our gear. Mother nature was going to have her way though, and like a big sail the wind took the tent right out of her hands and off the back end of the boat. I told her forget about the tent, sit down before you fall out of the boat. No sooner then I had spoke those words the boats made this horrible noise, then engine die and we came to a stop powerless in the swirling lake. At this point I had no clue what the problem was, as calmly as I could I started to think what would cause this sudden power loss. We had fuel, ignition would wine, but engine would not start. To the back of the boat I went, open the engine compartment, but could not really see anything that was obvious problem there, so closed the compartment. Glancing off the back of the boat I spotted part of our tent, it quickly dawned on me what the problem was, the tent was entangled in the prop.

I don't recall what kind of knife I had, but was happy I had one at that point. Life vest on already I grabbed the knife and into the water to try and cut the tent loose from the prop. All the while the waves crashing over the boat twisting and turning us like a leaf in a toilet bowl. I am not sure how long it took at that time, then it was a lifetime, but I finally managed to get the tent cut away and myself back in the boat. Much to my relief, the motor started and we powered off back on course to the marina.

I remember that once we reach the dock at the launching area, several people coming up to us and saying wow dude, we just knew you where gone a couple of times. Your lights would disappear as you dropped down into the waves, and then low and behold you we reappear. I remember I really just didn't know how to respond and I was so exhausted but relieved just to be back on land. Wind blowing and pouring rain was nothing compared to what I had just went through.

We loaded the boat on trailer, secured our gear and headed home, three hour drive in warm truck a welcome relief, both just happy to be alive. When I got to work the next day and told my bosses about my adventure, they all quickly scolded me. Season boat owners they informed me I should have just held up somewhere that night up lake and waited for the storm to pass before trying to navigate in the weather. 

No that did not end my boating that year, I just first and foremost always check the weather before venturing out on Lake Powell to make sure I would not have to experience that again. As for my lady friend, well she showed no interest in heading to the lake after that weekend.