Lake Powell: A Paddle of Contrasts
Story by: Diana Davis
Photos and Film by: Brett Davis
“Do you hear that?” I asked, my head tilted up to the narrow slit of sky between the canyon walls as I listened to the slow, rhythmic sound.
“It’s so quiet here, you can hear the bird’s wings,” my life and adventure partner Brett replied. We stopped talking just to listen as a raven cruised by. I’ve heard birds startle in the bushes or a whole flock take off, but I’ve never looked up and heard each individual flap of a solitary flight.
I became increasingly aware of sound on our month-long paddling and canyoneering trip this last October. I’d listen to the slip and splash of the paddle into the water, the ruffle of pulling the boats onto the shore, the sudden pour of water out of a dry canyon, or the churning of rocks in a wash as it began to flash flood. Sometimes, I’d lie in our tent and hear the howls of coyotes or the annoying buzz of a mosquito. On dry, windless nights, however, I heard nothing. I could hear stillness and feel the soundless echo of the wild desert night.
But this is only half the story.
Our trip was an odd mix of remote and public. I would sit reading on the rocky shore surrounded by calm waters and a deep sense of solitude until a jet ski blared by with its loud spray-tail slicing through the silence. I’d be lost in paddling on glass until a speed boat rocking the latest country hits flew by. The beats carried across the water for roughly the same duration it took for the wake to settle and the waters to once again grow calm and serene.
It was an odd mix, and we were the primary oddity on Lake Powell - in our human powered, inflated pack rafts. We started our trip just above North Wash at the Cataract Canyon take out where the muddy Colorado river flowed for another thirteen miles or so before becoming Lake Powell. Our Alpacka Chinooks were the perfect vessels to handle the 150-mile river/lake whose waters ranged from calm and flat to rough and stormy. The longer boats allowed us to paddle one to two miles an hour faster than our typical whitewater crafts. They also had the distinct and crucial advantage of being large enough to store our gear for an entire month. Our food, camping, and canyoneering equipment could all fit securely inside our boats. No resupply. No coolers. No slide?!
“But where is your real boat?” we were asked a time or two.
On the main channel, paddling the flooded Glen Canyon, the advantage went mostly to the motorized crowd. Laughter, music, water slides, wake surfing, ice cold drinks, fresh food... I admit, I was envious a time or two. But, in the narrow slots of side canyons, where the water grew shallow and motors turned around, that’s where we found wonder and desert magic.
Over the course of our trip, we were able to explore 33 side canyons including many off the long arms of the Escalante and San Juan Rivers. Newly exposed canyon layers would beckon us as the lake receded, and nature reclaimed her home. In some canyons, we were stymied by dense vegetation and beaver ponds. Others involved significant bushwhacking yet still were navigable. The terrain of the canyons was varied from wide and vast landscapes to tight slots with steep, overhanging walls. We would stash our boats and backpack spending a few days exploring these wild wonders of the desert.
While on the main channel of the lake, we would stop for lunch and do short day hikes into beautiful narrows marred with the more unfortunate signs of humans – trash and graffiti. The sounds of boats and music filled the channel. The quiet desert felt far away.
When exploring side canyons, if we were at least a mile from the easy, accessible main channel, the motor sounds would disappear, the footprints would grow less frequent, and the rock walls would remain untouched except by those who have called this land home for thousands of years. I could feel the life of the canyon, sit beside it’s high walls, and just listen... to the birds, the wind, the water flowing into potholes and in some magical moments the only thing I could hear was the beautiful, pure sound of silence.
Get a glimpse into what 30 days of paddling Lake Powell looks like:
About:
Diana and Brett Davis enjoy exploring the natural world by human powered means...by boat, bike, ski, or just on foot. Check out more photography, stories, and life lessons forged through adventure on The Lesson Collective.