Recreation Ho! for the Colorado

Benign though it may seem here, this is the Colorado River, the same one that flows wildly through the Grand Canyon; from a dozen or so river trips in the Canyon, I give it nothing but my respect.

The COLORADO RIVER

Summer and fun on the Colorado River are synonymous. And, with little argument, I can attest that there's no better place to be than in, on, or very near the cool waters of the great river. In my quest for summer fun, I start about as far north as you can go on the Colorado River and still be in Arizona: Glen Canyon Dam near Page. I choose a half-day morning boat trip through the remaining 15 miles of Glen Canyon. Here the Colorado has current as it flows from the dam down to Lees Ferry. It's the first river trip I've ever been on that requires donning a hard hat at the launch site. Early in the morning in Page a big air-conditioned bus picks us up. As we drive past the neatly manicured lawns, our driver boasts of the town's new department store and nine-hole golf course set amid the sand and sagebrush. Then we enter a two-mile-long tunnel built in 1958 to bring in supplies during construction of Glen Canyon Dam. The tunnel is dark, and the walls are moist with water seeping through the porous Navajo sandstone. The . The single-lane road descends 800 feet into the Earth. Reemerging into daylight, we are at the base of an impressive 710-foot-high mass of concrete Glen Canyon Dam which backs up water for 186 miles. Here the hard hats are issued, just in case someone decides to throw something off the bridge high above us, we are told. My only thought (and sincere hope) is that this is not the morning the Monkeywrench Gang succeeds in its desire to see the dam's demise. A hard hat, I suspect, would be of little use in that event. My fellow passengers and I are offered life jackets, but I'm the only adult who takes one. Benign though it may seem here, this is the Colorado River, the same one that flows wildly through the Grand Canyon; from a dozen or so river trips in the Canyon, I give the great watercourse nothing but my respect. Preparations complete, I hop aboard one of the baby-blue pontoon boats with 20 or so fellow passengers. As we start downstream at 7:30 on this July morning, we find the air surprisingly cool in the shade of the canyon walls. The water is persistently cold, averaging about 47° F. as Along what some call Arizona's West Coast and on the lakes formed by a series of dams, the mighty Colorado River attracts droves of swimmers, boaters, picnickers, hikers, and anglers.

(PRECEDING PANEL, PAGES 6 AND 7) Tour boats carry passengers between Glen Canyon Dam, near the river's northernmost point in Arizona, and Lees Ferry, a onetime river crossing run by a religious zealot and now the takeoff point for river runners.

(RIGHT, ABOVE) Taking a break from the river, a tour boat passenger finds the ideal spot for a siesta at Beaver Falls in Havasu Canyon.

It is released from the depths of Lake Powell behind the dam.

Kyran Keisling, our guide for the morning, gives us our orientation. As we float away from shore, and before he starts the motor, Ky asks if anyone has any questions. "Yes," says one woman, "will you stop if we fall out?" Ky reassures her that he will.

First stop, about seven miles downstream from the dam, is an Anasazi petroglyph site. Along a sandy path lined with tissue-white evening primrose, we walk the short distance to a panel of elegant bighorn sheep pecked into the polished rock. One of the guides gives a convincing discourse on the meaning of the symbols, but rock art interpretation has always struck me as a highly speculative pastime.

Back on the boats again, we proceed downriver. A great blue heron perches statuelike on the branch of a tree. Young mallards stay close to mom up on a beach. Large trout swim in the clear green water. My eyes follow the swirling conchoidal fractures in the burnished sandstone walls of Glen Canyon. I breathe in that vital, rich smell that all rivers possess.

Our group is quiet, perhaps moved by the scenery, perhaps not yet awake. To liven things up a bit, Ky, in the best riverman tradition, regales us with some tales. The canyon was made, he says, when Paul Bunyan dragged his ax through here. And a sandstone arch high on the wall is where he tied up his ox.

At Three-Mile Bar, just three miles above the takeout at Lees Ferry, the river is its shallowest. When releases from the dam are at their minimums, our big boat would not be able to navigate this stretch.

Just above Lees Ferry, a rich current of history swirls about us. On one shore are the remnants of a road used by Robert Brewster Stanton during his ill-fated 1889 survey for a railroad through Glen Canyon and the Grand Canyon. (See Arizona Highways, February '94.) On the opposite bank stands a magnificent old cottonwood marking the landing where

the way to its mouth south of Yuma. Recreationists here thrive on the mechanized, which, to be totally forthright in my biases, is not my preferred cup of tea.

Nevertheless, here I find myself one morning at the Lake Havasu Marina on what promises to be a toasty day in late July. People jockey their trucks into position, deftly back their trailers down to the launch ramp, and unload some pretty fancy-looking machinery into the water. Metallic cruisers with 400-horsepower Mercs rev up with guttural roars.

We follow suit, but with a definite difference. Ours is a 12-foot aluminum boat, its yellow paint dinged in numerous places, powered by a fierce 10-horsepower motor. Two tiny wooden oars serve as backup. The boat's name is Gawn Fishin'. It was bought by my husband on an impulse one Sunday afternoon. He reminds himself that the boat turned out to be two feet shorter than advertised, the motor worked only in the bucket of water in the previous owner's driveway, and the trailer was in probate. But he is gratified to recall that he paid only about twice what it was worth.

Based on experience, I insist we gas up beforehand. From there we putt out onto the lake. Darting around us and throwing rooster-tail spray are some fast little contraptions, half boat, half ski, called Seadoos, or Waverunners. They look like they might be fun. Besides they're supposed to be easier to ride because you sit on them rather than stand, as on true jet skis.

I inquire about renting one (a person can rent just about any kind of toy here from jet skis to tubes to paddleboats to parasails). The young man at the floating lakeside Stand says things are really slow for this time of year, and he'd be happy to oblige.

He demonstrates the start and stop switches, the kill switch, and the throttle, but he is careful to note that there's no reverse - and no brakes. I sign the release form, reading all the fine print.

"You can do anything you want to on it," he says. "Just don't hit a stationary object or another boat. And take everything out of your pockets." I wonder about that admonition and ask why. "Because it'll fall out if you don't," he says, smiling.

Astride the soft seat of this turquoise and white machine (which sells for about $3,500), I am dumped unceremoniously into the water. "Have fun. You'll be surprised how far you can go in an hour," he says.

I idle slowly out through the no-wake zone, deciding the safest course is straightahead and slow at first. No wheelies or endos just yet.

The throttle is amazingly sensitive, and in no time I find myself zooming along at 15 miles an hour.

A plumed tamarisk provides fine shade for the ... lawn chair, And the water beckons for a reviving swim.

Expecting to want earplugs, I discover the machine isn't really that noisy. In fact, I'm unconsciously taken in by the ease of travel sort of like riding a horse, only a lot smoother. I daze off and feel the distinct sensation of hydroplaning across the waves.

Toward the end of the hour, I get brave and try a couple of wide 360-degree turns.

But as the time draws nigh, I'm ready to turn in the Waverunner and get back into something tamer. Enough fun in the fast lane.

Back in our little yellow fishing boat, it's time to find a nice quiet cove and have a picnic. Afternoon temperatures are rising, and the wind stirs up a sizable chop on the big lake. We continue on a kidney-bruising ride and pull in to a gravel and shell beach. A plumed tamarisk provides fine shade for the cooler and lawn chair. And the water beckons for a reviving swim. As we float and paddle in the cove, I am awed by a hot-dog jet-skier roaring by and performing all kinds of stunts. For me, a good book under the shade of the tamarisk is the essence of a fine summer afternoon by the river.

Little did I know that just around the corner was the "party" cove, complete with a houseboat blaring rock and roll. Boats gather in the cove, draped with young women in bikinis whose description outstrips the sensitivities of a family magazine. To the taunts and cheers of sightseers, kids tiptoe out to the edge of a slippery precipice, screw up their courage, and jump off the high rock into the lake. This scene doesn't take long to wear thin, and the sun is beginning to get to us.

(ABOVE) For many, just visting the river isn't enough, they line its shores as permanent or part-time residents in a variety of accommodations. These houses hug the bank of the river at Imperial Oasis. (RIGHT) The gentle current through 15-mile-long Topock Gorge invites relaxing and contemplative activities such as canoeing and watching for wildlife. (FAR RIGHT) A tour boat out of Page speeds from Glen Canyon Dam to Lees Ferry.

Time of year. I guess I am getting older — it does seem hotter than it used to.

Back in the boat and time to head in. As all the other boats on the lake careen past us, the Gawn Fishin's motor starts to make a funny missing sound. It's done this before. "Think it'll make it?" my husband asks with a grin.

"Sure," I say. "But do you have a spare sparkplug?"

"Nope," he answers.

At least we're still on the water. And maybe, for quite some time.

WHEN YOU GO

Half-day float trips through Glen Canyon on the Colorado River can be booked through Wilderness River Adventures, P.O. Box 717, Page, AZ 86040. For information and reservations, call toll-free 1 (800) 528-6154. In summer, morning and afternoon trips leave from their Page office. Page is 282 miles north of Phoenix. A nearby sight to see is Lees Ferry.

Motorand oar-powered boats launch at Lees Ferry for trips of up to two weeks on the Colorado through the Grand Canyon. Contact Grand Canyon National Park at P.O. Box 129, Grand Canyon, AZ 86023, or call (602) 638-2401 for a list of river companies that run the "Grand."

Lake Havasu City is on the lower Colorado River, 206 miles northwest of Phoenix. Near town are full-service marinas that provide lake access. Lakeside concessionaires rent jet skis, parasails, and other toys. There are motels and parks for tent and RV camping near towns along the river, including Lake Havasu City, Bullhead City, Parker, and Yuma. Houseboating, powerboating, fishing, camping, and swimming are all closeby.

West of Yuma on the California side of the river, see the Quechan Indian Museum on the site of old Fort Yuma.

Other access points along the river and lakes include Katherine Landing on Lake Mohave, various marinas on Lake Mead, and Willow Beach below Hoover Dam. Selected stretches of the lower Colorado provide wonderful canoeing, too. North of Lake Havasu City is Topock Gorge, within the Havasu National Wildlife Refuge. Canoe rental and shuttle service are available through a company called Jerkwater's, 1 (800) 421-7803. Paddling also is a possibility downstream in the Cibola and Imperial wildlife refuges between Parker and Yuma.For additional information on facilities and accommodations, contact chambers of commerce in Page, 645-2741; Bullhead City, 754-4121; Lake Havasu City, 855-4115; Parker, 669-2174; and Yuma, 782-2567. All area codes are (602).