Part Sixteen: A One Night Vacation at Ghost Marina
(First time reading this story? Scroll down to start with Part One)(Note: I actually got ahead of myself with the last post, accidentally skipping over some of my notes - the gas dilemma and Ticaboo actually happen tomorrow. I will continue with that story next post, today however, I am still in the middle of grand and lovely nowhere, heading north from my night spent at Muley Point.)
When I get back from one of these journeys, people often ask me how my ‘vacation’ was. Vacation? What Vacation? I usually need a vacation after one of my adventures.
The word ‘vacation’ comes from the Latin word vacare, “to be empty.” I guess that is what most people want to experience - a week or two spent empty of mind, responsibilities and physical demands and often it’s a chance to just lie around and do whole a lot of nothing. Be empty. And certainly there’s nothing wrong with that but…
By that definition, my adventures are hardly vacations. On what vacation would you dutifully get yourself up everyday an hour or two before dawn to be out hiking at first light? On what vacation would you willingly freeze half to death almost every night? On what vacation would you spend time every evening diligently writing notes instead of relaxing? On what vacation would you come back more physically exhausted than before you left?
Now, don’t get me wrong, I do love my adventures, but the word vacation just doesn’t fit. But, like a good vacation, I always come back feeling mentally refreshed and in better physical shape. Also, by the end of the trip, I feel that my spiritual gas tank has been re-filled, I have re-connected with the universe and usually have lots of new work and words to share. These trips actually allow me, for a couple of weeks at a time, to be who I really am – an explorer and adventurer - I escape to myself. Unfortunately, I can’t take these trips nearly as often as I’d like to, life and things like making a living get in the way. I am quite sure though that, in a past life, I was once a full-time explorer, maybe Lewis or Clark or possibly even John Wesley Powell.
Speaking of Powell, I am now descending steeply into the Colorado River valley towards the northeast end of Lake Powell. A marina suddenly appears like a mirage floating in the desert. The Hite Marina has all the facilities you would expect: bathrooms (open), store (closed), boat ramp and docks, but the ramp and docks are high and dry and there’s no one around. It’s feels like a ghost town, albeit a more modern one made of concrete and steel.
After several years of light snowfall in the Rockies, the lake has evaporated much more water than has been replenished, it’s down almost 100 feet from its highest levels. It’s almost back to being a river here. White ‘bathtub' rings high up on the rocks illuminate just how low the lake is. Add this to the fact that this is a weekday in midwinter and it’s no wonder that no one is here.
I benefit from the marina’s empty (vacare!) status in numerous ways. First, camping is free and I can select any campsite I want - I choose one with a great view. Secondly, there’s plenty of firewood (driftwood) just laying around for the taking. Third, it’s very peaceful and quiet; there are no motors out on the lake. And lastly, I have, all to myself, a real brick and mortar (clean!) bathroom with running water and toilet paper - what luxury!
I build a blaze, the first real bonfire of the trip (as you can imagine, the desert doesn’t usually offer up a whole lot of wood for fires.) Then I uncork a bottle of wine, take out some cheese and crackers and just sit by the fire while gazing contentedly out onto the surface of the lake (or what remains of it), where the glowing red cliffs above are being reflected. Beautiful!
When I get back from one of these journeys, people often ask me how my ‘vacation’ was. Vacation? What Vacation? I usually need a vacation after one of my adventures.
The word ‘vacation’ comes from the Latin word vacare, “to be empty.” I guess that is what most people want to experience - a week or two spent empty of mind, responsibilities and physical demands and often it’s a chance to just lie around and do whole a lot of nothing. Be empty. And certainly there’s nothing wrong with that but…
By that definition, my adventures are hardly vacations. On what vacation would you dutifully get yourself up everyday an hour or two before dawn to be out hiking at first light? On what vacation would you willingly freeze half to death almost every night? On what vacation would you spend time every evening diligently writing notes instead of relaxing? On what vacation would you come back more physically exhausted than before you left?
Now, don’t get me wrong, I do love my adventures, but the word vacation just doesn’t fit. But, like a good vacation, I always come back feeling mentally refreshed and in better physical shape. Also, by the end of the trip, I feel that my spiritual gas tank has been re-filled, I have re-connected with the universe and usually have lots of new work and words to share. These trips actually allow me, for a couple of weeks at a time, to be who I really am – an explorer and adventurer - I escape to myself. Unfortunately, I can’t take these trips nearly as often as I’d like to, life and things like making a living get in the way. I am quite sure though that, in a past life, I was once a full-time explorer, maybe Lewis or Clark or possibly even John Wesley Powell.
Speaking of Powell, I am now descending steeply into the Colorado River valley towards the northeast end of Lake Powell. A marina suddenly appears like a mirage floating in the desert. The Hite Marina has all the facilities you would expect: bathrooms (open), store (closed), boat ramp and docks, but the ramp and docks are high and dry and there’s no one around. It’s feels like a ghost town, albeit a more modern one made of concrete and steel.
After several years of light snowfall in the Rockies, the lake has evaporated much more water than has been replenished, it’s down almost 100 feet from its highest levels. It’s almost back to being a river here. White ‘bathtub' rings high up on the rocks illuminate just how low the lake is. Add this to the fact that this is a weekday in midwinter and it’s no wonder that no one is here.
I benefit from the marina’s empty (vacare!) status in numerous ways. First, camping is free and I can select any campsite I want - I choose one with a great view. Secondly, there’s plenty of firewood (driftwood) just laying around for the taking. Third, it’s very peaceful and quiet; there are no motors out on the lake. And lastly, I have, all to myself, a real brick and mortar (clean!) bathroom with running water and toilet paper - what luxury!
I build a blaze, the first real bonfire of the trip (as you can imagine, the desert doesn’t usually offer up a whole lot of wood for fires.) Then I uncork a bottle of wine, take out some cheese and crackers and just sit by the fire while gazing contentedly out onto the surface of the lake (or what remains of it), where the glowing red cliffs above are being reflected. Beautiful!
It’s warmer here than any of the other places I have camped so far and not just because of the fire; I’m at lower elevation, 2,500 feet lower than last night for instance, which makes for about a ten degree difference. With the fire, that’s really significant, and, for the first time on this trip, I’m actually comfortable being outside after the sun goes down without needing to bundle up like the Michelin man. Real bathrooms, running water, good wine, a nice fire and relative warmth - I guess you could say I am on ‘vacation’ tonight!I’m up well before dawn the next morning (vacation over!) to shoot the first light.
It’s cool, but not frigid and I am actually enjoying the morning placidity without shivering for once. There’s hardly a sound except for my breathing and the occasional vehicle passing by out on the highway. I consider staying here for another day – it’s all so very comfortable - but decide against it; there’s so much yet to explore and only a little more than a week of ‘vacation’ left to do it!Next: To Tiny Ticaboo Town
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