Life On The Houseboat

It's 105 degrees today on the lake.

That’s the air temperature.  The water temperature is 85.  

And it’s 96 degrees right now inside the houseboat.

We are living on the lake without electricity or running water. 

That's not to say that we do not have power or water, but everything is limited to what we brought on board 

and our tenuous relationship with our generator.

This is a big boat -- 75 feet long, and two levels -- and it takes a lot of management to make for smooth sailing.

Mr. C (actually, it's Captain C while we're on the lake) runs the generator periodically throughout the day to charge those huge batteries that we depend on when the generator is not running.  The batteries must be a ready resource to keep the refrigerator running, the electric fans, and even the water pumps that we are counting on when we turn on the faucet or flush the toilet.

But it's a tricky business, 'cause when the generator is running, we can't swim off the back deck.  CO2 poisoning, and all that.  And since it's 95 degrees inside the houseboat right now (did I mention that already?) the 85 degree water is the better alternative.

Also, we can't run the generator full time because it eats a lot of fuel; and is consuming the same fuel that we will need to get this big boat the 40 miles back to the dock.

So life on the houseboat takes constant monitoring, and is a constantly changing thing.  Our Captain C does an amazing job of keeping everything running while the rest of us lounge about and play.

We set up "camp" every year in the same spot.  Contrary to what you might think about houseboating, we don't just motor around on the lake all week -- we are anchored, quite firmly, to shore.

After trying a few different locations, Mr. C has settled on what he feels is the ideal place, and so it is that we return every year to Cumming Cove.  (Do you see us there, tucked back in the back corner?) 

Lake Powell is a huge lake created by the Glen Canyon dam.  It's 186 miles long tip-to-tip, with over 2,000 miles of shoreline (that's longer than the entire USA West Coast shoreline, by the way), and some 96 major canyons to explore.

The sky high canyon walls are staggeringly beautiful, red and regal, gigantic in stature, creating a very firm resolution about our significance in this world.  Yes, we feel tiny in comparison, even in our 75' boat.  

Mr. C is super cautious about anchoring the boat to these gigantic rock cliffs.  We've spent enough time out here to know (and experience) how fast the winds can whip up ~ literally in an instant ~ and start buffeting the boat about as though it were made of paper.

We listen to the marine radio squawking when this happens, people who are inexperienced and thus unprepared, their lines or anchoring insufficient, or even worse, snapping under the pressure, the winds then free to send their houseboat crashing into the rocky shore.  And this says nothing about their water toys ~ the jet skis, the ski boats, etc., being battered or set free to roam the storm on their own.  It's a sad way to spend the rest of their holiday, cleaning up after (and paying for) their innocent mistake.  You cannot underestimate Mother Nature.  She wins every time.

So our setup, now finely honed after 19 years of houseboating, takes a couple of hours.  Six huge ropes are criss-crossed from both the bow and the stern (the front and the back) of the boat to keep us tautly in place.

Then Captain C stretches an additional rope from the back of the boat across the balance of our narrow cove, which is secured to another boulder on the opposite shore.  This becomes the anchor for the Mastercraft, and serves the additional purpose of creating a swimming boundary for the little ones.  They call this their "swimming pool".  The jet skis are usually tied off on the side of the houseboat.  It's quite a process, and it feels like hard work when the thermometer is hitting three digits.  

But it's all necessary to have a safe and fun-filled two weeks on the lake.  All that's left to do now is that very important cool-down swim.