When my wife was in high school her family took a boating trip to Lake Powell. She still describes to me in vivid detail how glassy the water would be early in the morning. When she tells me stories I can see the colors of the canyon walls. They camped on the shore and would spend all day out on the boat, water skiing and exploring the lake.
One night they loaded up the boat with food and blankets and drove out away from their camp. They got a ways out and turned the boat off and broke out the snacks. They had brought a little TV and a power adapter. That night in the dark out on the lake they watched Monty Python and The Search For The Holy Grail. When it finished it was so dark they couldn’t find their camp. They slept on the boat that night and found the camp in the morning.
This is Kevin, my wife’s younger brother. My wife took this picture. I don’t think Kevin has ever been more at home anywhere else than at Lake Powell, elbow deep in the mud. I like this picture. I like the days spent exploring the canyons and being out on the boat that you don’t see but can imagine. This place is a playground for kids, young and old. I like this picture because of the stories it tells.
What are your stories? Did you grow up going to Lake Powell with your family? Did you first learn to slalom ski here or land your first backflip wakeboarding? Would you get a houseboat or would you camp? Leave us a comment, send us an email (firstname.lastname@example.org), post a comment on Facebook, send us pictures! We would love to hear your stories and share them with everyone else.