THE END OF THE ROAD?

Two moved to Arizona from Missouri. Since 2018, they've been volunteers for Lake Mead National Recreation Area, and when they're not out on a patrol boat or interacting with visitors, they split their time between a Temple Bar trailer and their permanent residence in Lake Havasu City.

"I thought it was gorgeous," Cecilia says of her first time seeing Lake Mead, on one of the couple's summer water-skiing trips from the Midwest. "You can ski for miles and miles and not see anybody." And the combination of an east-west river course and prevailing Southerly winds makes Temple Bar an ideal spot to head out in their boat for a morning ski. They've spotted burros and bighorn sheep in Lake Mead's numerous coves, and they've hiked to remote locations such as Salt Spring, where water collection boxes from the mining days can still be found.

But the receding shoreline - a result of drought and increased water use by Southwestern states has made recreation a challenge. As recently as the 1990s, Lake Mead came right up to Temple Bar's restaurant; now, it's about three-quarters of a mile away. For decades, the Park Service extended the site's boat launch ramp to accommodate the changing reservoir, but in July 2021, the ramp was abandoned, leaving boaters high and dry.

The site's current concessionaire, Guest Services International, has since deployed a Mobi-Mat, a type of portable launch ramp, adjacent to the abandoned one. So far, it's working fine. But the 2021 ramp closure

sparked worries that ending the site's concessionaire contract could be under consideration.

The effects of such a move would be far-reaching. Arizonans looking to enjoy Lake Mead would have to travel to Nevada to reach lakeside areas with visitor services. People exploring via boat would be without a vital refueling station, limiting the places they could reach on the east side of the lake. And Arizona would lose its only way of generating tax revenue from recreation at the country's largest reservoir. (Two other developed areas in Arizona, Willow Beach and Katherine Landing, are part of the recreation area but are downstream from the lake.) Lake Mead public affairs officer John Haynes says the Park Service's short-term vision for Temple Bar is “to continue to provide all the services we can, unless we get to the point where the lake is so low that it's not effective to stay open anymore.” He adds: “The goal is to keep it open. Right now, we're trying to find creative ways to provide services out there.” Indeed, providing services at a place like Temple Bar seems central to the purpose of Lake Mead National Recreation Area. As spelled out in the 1964 legislation that created it, the recreation area the nation's first must be operated “in a manner that will preserve, develop and enhance, so far as practicable, the recreation potential.”

And if the Arizona side of Lake Mead were out of reach for most visitors, a lot of recreation potential would be wasted.

NA PONTOON BOAT CRUISE UP VIRGIN CANYON, southeast of Temple Bar, one thing is clear: Despite the dire headlines, there's a lot of water in Lake Mead. In fact, while the receding shoreline has created a few hazards for boats, much of the reservoir remains more than 200 feet deep.

On the Nevada side, across from Temple Bar, Elmore points out the Temple, the steep-walled monolith for which the site is named. Along the way are other landmarks, such as Gilligan's Island, which is no longer an island; Gregg's Hideout, a cove named for an early river ferry operator; and Striper Bay, spelled on some maps with an extra “P” which is either a typo or a nod to the area's rowdy days. And atop a lakeside cliff, Elmore spots an inoperative “wind talker,” a device that dates to his childhood. “If that was blinking, you knew it was windy,” he recalls.

Back on land, Duncan, who manages the site's operations for Guest Services International, leads a tour of the Temple Bar area, including Heron Point, an overlook with a dramatic view of the reservoir; the campground, which is shaded by tall palm, eucalyptus and olive trees; and the nearly 100 trailers, some of which date to the 1950s. By Park Service rules, tenants can spend no more than 180 days per year in their trailers. (Most of them abide.) The site's marina is the smallest such facility on the lake. That, plus its location near the river channel, makes it the marina most able to adapt to low-water periods, Duncan says. Cables attached to underwater concrete anchors hold it in place, and a system of winches is used to move it in response to changing lake levels. That keeps the marina's rental and private boats, including one owned by crooner Wayne Newton, in plenty of water.

Guest Services operates Temple Bar's concessions via year-to-year contract extensions, which Duncan notes can make it difficult to make long-term improvements to the site's aging facilities. But now, there's reason for optimism. This past July, the recreation area released its plan for maintaining visitor services amid declining water levels. While nothing is set in stone, the plan indicates that ending the Temple Bar concessionaire contract is not in the Park Service's short-term plans.

As Lake Mead's water level has declined over the decades, the shoreline has moved farther from Temple Bar's amenities, posing challenges for recreation. Two months later, Mike Gauthier became Lake Mead's permanent superintendent after previously serving in an interim role. Duncan says Gauthier was instrumental in securing funding during a recent period of exceptionally low water. That, plus the release of the low-water plan, has Guest Services discussing potential upgrades at Temple Bar, and the Park Service has committed nearly $1 million for equipment needed to move the marina during periods of drought. “It was nice to have that commitment,” Duncan says, adding that the Park Service has been a good partner. “They're not going to turn around and close us down,” she says.

Already, the Mobi-Mat is bringing some boaters back, she says. Once word spreads, more will follow. And Duncan, Elmore and other people who love Temple Bar hope visitors will keep following that paved road to a desert oasis that somehow feels both intimately familiar and entirely unexpected. “It's so peaceful,” Duncan says. “People come out here, and they don't get it. And after one night under the stars or out on the lake, they get it.” Elmore adds, “It's a gorgeous place.” And what he says a little later is about the lack of cell service, but it's about more than that, too: “It's not for everyone. But it's for a lot of people.”