AZ to ID Road Trip - Part 2


Continuing cold weather in the north was the main reason we decided our one day stop in Page had to be extended to four. We managed to book the campsite at Glen Canyon National Park's Wahweap Resort on the edge of Lake Powell, which looked as though it was rather upmarket. 


I had heard Lake Powell was a reservoir formed as the result of building Glen Canyon Dam on the Colorado river. Having just seen Theodore Roosevelt reservoir, a rather uninspiring piece of water, gave me totally the wrong impression. Yes, even I who pride myself on an open mind, have preconceptions!

So I was completely unprepared for the singular beauty of the dramatic rock formations and their changing colors during the day, set off against the changing blue's and grey's of the man made lake.





Even Glen Canyon Dam was spectacular, and we signed up for a free tour. I never knew the Colorado River is such a life-giving source of water to the states of Wyoming, Colorado, New Mexico, Utah, Arizona, Nevada, California and northern Mexico. The Hoover Dam, which was opened in 1936, created a reservoir large enough to release water to the southern states throughout the year, but population growth since then created the need for more dams to supply year round water to Utah and Arizona. Glen Canyon Dam was built where the canyon walls were narrow enough to make a dam logistically possible. It was amazing to think how the Colorado River was held back and diverted to allow this feat of engineering to proceed over a process of 10 years - it opened in 1966. We walked over the top of the dam and then took an elevator to look at the turbines nearly a thousand feet below.


I'm not much into dams and gallons per minute and pressure of water etc, but I enjoyed the tour. Fascinating to learn that the town of Page was initially created to house the thousands of workers, and the bridge (completed in 1959)

and Route 89 were built to allow supplies to be brought in for the work. The road also had the effect of opening up this inaccessible area to tourists. The National Park is vast, and much of it is still only accessible via primitive roads and the lake and its tributary canyons.

Having extended our stay in the area, I tried, on a whim, to book a visit to famous Antelope Slot Canyon. We had heard you have to book months ahead to view this photographer's dream location, so I knew it was a long shot, even though April is not high season. To my delight I discovered there are two tours, one to the Upper and one to the Lower Antelope Canyon. The Upper is the most popular as there is no walking required to get there (and we know there are a lot of people who find walking challenging). However the Lower Canyon can be accessed by a fairly short walk and a series of ladders (I would have called them stairs), and for those fit and unafraid of heights, Ken's Tours to the Lower Canyon was a viable, and less busy alternative.


Our Navajo guide was wonderful, taking photos as requested, pointing out formations, as well as explaining how a slot canyon is formed – through erosion by water and sand during flash flooding over the red Navajo sandstone. Needless to say tours do not take place when there is a possibility of a flood.

As we walked for an hour through eerily carved rocks and caves, lighted by sunshine from above, we were totally enchanted. I probably would never have noticed the lady with a veil,


or the Native American chief with headdress,


or the laughing shark,

or the myriad other formations named by the Navajo tribe, on whose reservation the canyon lies. The colors of the sandstone varied from blonde to pink to plum to purple,  and the patterns made were just amazing,



and sometimes a shaft of sunlight from above can create a stunning effect.
.

It was such an incredible experience.  I can tell you, I looked at those coming out of that canyon behind us, and everyone was smiling.

I was also very keen to see the nearby viewpoint of Horseshoe Bend, where you can stand at the edge and look down a sheer 1000 ft (300 m) drop to the Colorado River below (at your own risk of course). Having become braver and braver in my old age, I managed to get pretty close to the edge to take this amazing photo.



Our philosophy in making this lifestyle change in our sixties, and taking to the road in an RV, was to try to experience as much as we can whilst we are still physically able.  When we embarked on our travels I faced some personal challenges, and was encouraged by my increasing abilities to do things I had been afraid of in previous years.  So my newly discovered boldness allowed me to suggest to Richard that we might try a four hour trip in a two man kayak along Lake Powell and into the narrowing tributary of Antelope Canyon - yes, you can paddle to where water surging through the slot canyon empties out into the lake.  I have to say Richard just looked at me in astonishment and then managed a nod of his head – he was so speechless.  

The trip was pretty cool, in a sore arm-and-back kind of way.  Using muscles not normally exerted, our arms hurt for several days afterwards.

We tagged along with a couple who were paddle-boarding.


I cannot see how they can stand in the same position for 4, or even 8 hours (you can do a full day rental.) Once in the Canyon, there are no places you can stop off for a rest or a stretch of your legs. We were getting kind of sore, and not knowing when we would reach the end, we decided we didn't need to go all the way and turned round after an hour and a half of paddling.  As everyone knows, old age doesn't come by itself... it is accompanied by aching joints.  So, when we did stop at a beach about 30 minutes before we were due back at the Marina, we were so stiff we crawled out of the kayak like something out of a Monty Python sketch. 


Other than the discomfort, it was a very peaceful experience, apart from the fact that every little wave rocked our kayak in a rather hair-raising way. In fact, we almost keeled over with the strength of the waves left by the wake of the tour boats. But in between those, the water was smooth as glass, and the only sound was our oars cutting the surface. Oh, except when Richard was out of sync with me and whacked my paddle.

What a wonderful two weeks' worth of memories to keep us going as we drove the last 800 miles north through cold and rain to our next stop – Wagonhammer RV resort.



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