So when I mentioned that I used to sail a bit, and spent last winter studying the navigation course that RYA Day Skippers have to take (but didn't quite take the final exam), I was assuming boating on Lake Powell was going to be a breeze. Where? actually the other half of the Grand Canyon that got flooded by community agreement 25 years ago (according to Steve the nice man who came out to save us last night in high winds).
It's a huge system of lakes and canyons full of glorious topaz waters that kind of hint of sea life underneath but are respectfully cloudy enough to enable a wuss like myself to dive in - don't ask, it's a throw back to those clear blue waters full of fish snapping at my ankles that have always put me off snorkelling and I probably require therapy for.
Secure in the knowledge that I couldn't see sea snakes or big fat fish nibbling at me, we set off at a cheery pace having been briefed and set free by our instructor. Turns out there's a lot more to handling a 59' house boat in high winds than the common or garden 'theory' sailor can deal with.
The idea is that one beaches ones boat head on then digs huge holes for the anchors - they were Danforths for the sailing savvy amongst us. This of course does not take into account that ones vessel is full of kids and only 3 burly adults and high winds are involved. Sadly our merry troop were flummoxed by the ramming of the beaches a la Dunkirk stylie - it seemed morally wrong to just hit the beach head on - but apparently the more gusto you give that beach landing the better you sleep at night.
Luckily a local yocal stopped by to advise us of our inept parking ability and managed to fix us up (whilst snarfing our supply of beer) so that we were able to spend the next few nights at peace.
It really is an amazing place and if you delete the parking trauma, the slightly wiffy showers and the lack of fore thought on our part not to pack enough chocolate to get through a crisis - I would recommend this as a fabulous stop on the "explore the USA" agenda.
You might not get Clint Eastwood riding by the watering hole, and are more likely to have fisticuffs with a redneck boatster but it certainly feels authentic, awe smackingly beautiful and close enough to civilization to fix that lapse in chocolate packing error.
No comments:
Post a Comment