Floating upstream

On Wednesday we all got up at sunrise, although the sunrise wasn’t as spectacular as I imagined it would be with the rocks around us. “The sun just came up and there was light!” said Iris.

We gathered at the table for coffee or tea and mixed cereal. After a quick jaunt up some brittle rocks for a hilltop view, we were off again for another ride on Lake Powell in the direction of Dangling Rope Marina and then Rainbow Bridge afterwards.

The only problem was, we were not on the man channel. We were floating up Last Chance Canyon in a northwesterly directon when we needed to go northeast and enjoying the many side canyons and waving at boats going in the opposite direction.

We had failed to pay attention to the buoys. “We drove two hours in the wrong direction!” said Bill rather disgustedly, two hours that took time from Rainbow Bridge that I was so looking forward to because of the Native American significance.

It wasn’t time wasted, though. Mom and Iris and I sat upstairs for a while and talked about her past and her hard time adjusting to American culture as a German in post-war United States.

The crowd changed over the day. Marcela and Jason and Alex came upstairs. Jason got into my crinoid passion. “Look, there are crinoids to the right!” said Jason as we passed a red sandbank, I became the Crinoid Hunter. Everything revolved around crinoids, which slowly took on a monstrously evil configuration. I gladly played up on the crinoid fascination. Everyone in the group learned all about crinoids from me.

My 1983 book “The Colorado River in the Grand Canyon” by Larry Stevens, a book I picked up for $2 at the town’s swap meet, came in handy in reference to crinoids in the area and the history of the river.

Iris kept texting her boyfriend Ed, telling him about the crinoids.
“What are crinoids?” he asked.
“They are small aquatic fossils, also known as Indian beads” replied Iris. The texting went back-and forth for as long as Iris got reception.

I was getting antsy for some exercise as we were filling up on tortillas and salsa, gummi bears, chips. We made it to Dangling Rope Marina at 3:30 to retank ($400) as Mom, Iris, Alex, Jason, Marcela got off the boat to check out the shoppette. Where was the dangling rope?

I got my National Park Passport stamped with the Glen Canyon NRA Dangling Rope stamp and picked up a canyon map and a 12-pack of Heineken beer. Those two items were $28.
“Must be the Mormon tax” I said, shocked at the price.
“The Mormons don’t get any of it” replied the blonde cashier. Good.
But I didn’t want to say no more as I knew how Mormons feel about their image.
“The Mormons are the reason why the beer here is only 3.8 percent” she added.

The beer was still good, although it didn’t last too long. I had two beers and Jason and Marcela finished off the rest.

I stayed on the houseboat while Jason, Iris, Alex and Matt sped by in the rented speed boat ahead of us, making fast turns around us and looking for a place to anker for the night. We ended up going back west a few miles before we found a sandy beach to spend the night.

Alex and Matt kayaked into the evening, I walked around some more looking for crinoids, swam around the boat for a bit, but then stayed on the boat the rest of the evening, working on photographs, talking to Jason and Marcela. Jason managed to download all 430 photographs I had taken up to that point. It was the only way I could see exactly what shots were focused and which ones weren’t. There were about ten landscape shots that were out of focus; probably when the lens was acting up on me.

We gathered around the computer to look at the photographs, something I have always been self-conscious about because I don’t like looking at other peoples’ vacation shots unless I was there as well. There were a few very good angles I took, and most of the shots I took of Marcela were very nice. She’s a very photogenic young woman.

Everyone left after the picture show. It was 8pm and the generator was turned off. I had no choice but to head toward my little cabin as well. The night was cooler and more comfortable this time and I could have sworn I heard the howling of coyotes and the drumming of a beat in the distance. Ancient Indian spirits, perhaps?

It was another inactive day for me spending most of it eating junk food. At this rate I was snacking I was going to put on a lot of weight. I wish I enjoyed water sports more. Mom brought three kayaks and I've yet desired to kayak. I'd rather hike up a side canyon.