Our camp sits on the opposing canyon shore of Face Canyon, and as morning appears, we pack up and head back to our previous day's destination for some sweet early-morning light on our arch. Returning up the slot canyon, our navigation seems less strained with the secret knowledge of the correct canyon turn sequence. Approaching the beach, we strain the oars along the wall and push ourselves up high enough on the sand for another safe landing

Returning up the canyon, the cooler air of the morning makes the chill of the slot seem less pleasant, although I realize this won't last for long as the sun climbs relentlessly higher to cook us for yet another day. Our weather has been quite warm--low to high 90s, and with us cruising on the lake most of the time, it feels almost perfect. During our travels, I find myself dipping my hat into the lake water and placing it directly on my head to maintain a comfortable temperature.

We ascend the hill once again, but decide to change the approach slightly. Slickrock has always been a joy to climb for me, but like most people, the climb is rarely a problem. It's the descent that will get you in trouble. Figuring that I wouldn't come back down the way I came up, I decide to climb the steep gully directly below the arch that will cut off about 5 min of hiking. My companions wisely choose to go around the hill. As the hill gets steeper, I put my hands down on the ground to improve my balance. About 3/4 of the way up, suddenly sand breaks loose under my shoe and it's like I'm on a slide. My companions stare in shock as they watch me helplessly descend. I have no choice but to ride it down to a stopping point, but my hands are now being subjected to very harsh chafing--like having a sander turned on low while your hands are directly on it. My wedding ring saves my left hand from too much pressure somehow, but my right doesn't have the same luck. I'm now the victim of road rash on both hands, much worse on the right. And the object of ridicule as I sheepishly follow the same trail my friends took minutes before, cursing my bad judgment and my open wounds.

We shoot the arch and I nurse my wounded hands and ego. We putter around the area for awhile, taking advantage of the shady slopes protecting some of the flowers noted from the day before. The area is covered with cryptobiotic soil and I'm hopping from rock to rock, avoiding the possibility of damaging years of growth from a single footprint. Satisfied that we've captured some good images and enjoyed a nice side trip to such a remote arch, we head back to the boat and motor up the lake to our next destination, Rainbow Bridge.

Rainbow Bridge is a spectacle to behold within the parcel of Glen Canyon. A separate national monument from Lake Powell, it was first discovered by Caucasians back in 1909. Long known to the Navajo tribes of the area, it is considered sacred ground to them. It is also the considered the world's largest natural bridge with a span of 275 feet and a height of 250 feet (although, even this is considered a subject of debate since the distinction between 'arch' and 'bridge' is a subtle one, and there are arches much taller or wider than this one). At one point, boats could drive underneath the great arc, although the practice has stopped after protests by the local tribes. Now, with water levels so low, a mile plus hike is required to even approach the bridge.

This is clearly one of the more popular tourist spots in the canyon and the presence of a large but almost empty NPS dock, capable of holding 2-3 dozen boats of varying sizes indicates that we could have had large crowds. Somehow, we luck out and are the only boat attempting to dock when we arrive. We have the arch to ourselves, a rare moment indeed.

After our quiet side trip to behold the magnificent beauty of the arch, we proceed to head up the canyon to our destination for the night--the mouth of the San Juan river. Maps warn of a lack of services up this river arm, and given the resources we've used to proceed just down the main channel, I can understand why they would speak so strongly to discourage people from travelling large distances up this canyon. Sometimes it seems, the main job of the NPS is to save people from themselves.

A gently sloping sandstone table with a gravel beach beckons us for the night. We setup camp and have the good fortune to photograph the sunset right from the shore of camp. With so many twists and turns, almost every campsite in Lake Powell seems conducive to capturing the beauty of the rising or setting sun. We drink in the solitude and enjoy the overwhelming silence that calms the mind from so many distractions in our city-dwelling lives.

Although we want to remain on the lake for a longer time, mechanical problems with our aging watercraft have given us pause about exploring side canyons any further. We awake the next day to pack and I find our boat's owner working away on the engine which has given us no end of trouble since the beginning of our trip. I wonder what the day will have in store for us, although it turns out I don't have to wait long to find out. About 9 miles away from our original launch point of Halls Crossing, the engine seizes and we come to a dead stop in the water. After a few tense moments, we paddle ashore to the nearest spot where the boat can approach land and call back to the marina. Luckily, we're within radio range and within an hour, a tow boat comes to recover our crippled craft back to the marina.

While our trip has been cut short, my longing to explore Lake Powell's secret coves and infinite canyon mazes has only been fueled by this brief journey to view her previously hidden treasures. The draw of this place is clear for both sides of the controversy--the question remains, what does the future of this fragile place hold for us? As we pull the dead boat from the water, the only question I can answer is whether I will return. Yes, absolutely, unequivocally, YES. Perhaps that was the only answer I needed in the first place.

May 2004

All text and images (c) Copyright Dave Rodenbaugh/Coyote Images LLC, 2004-5. All rights reserved. Republication of this text or images without prior permission is subject to criminal and civil penalties punishable up to $150,000 under US Copyright Law.