August 18 – 23, 2000
DeRay, Jeanette, Ed, and Amy Hugh
I resisted the grandeur of Lake Powell on the
first day. The movement of the boat on
the water made me twice as dizzy and disoriented. Also, I’m still feeling a little miffed over
all the time DeRay has spent on the boat this past year—coming down and working
on it so many times, ordering parts, planning, scheming, paying for everything
himself, talking about it on the phone incessantly—it has consumed him, body
and soul. I told Ryan Lee, one of the
deadbeats who can’t even pay his dues, that he and his cronies could come and
build our deck since DeRay was always at Lake Powell. “We’ll
be over at 6 in the morning,” he promised.
That was two months ago OR FOUR.
Anyway, so we’re finally here on our maiden voyage
since it sank. Unbelievably, I kept my
nose in a book—editing Amy’s manuscript (she wrote a book on her experiences with one unbelievable boy on Red Cliff Access Wilderness Program) to be precise—as we ambled down the
channel. The first night we had slept in
the slip. The view on one side was the
parking lot with rows and rows of SUV’s, vans, pickups, expensive cars; with
grand boats as far as the eye could see on the other side. A visual reminder of man’s materialism in
diametrical opposition to our natural state in harmony with our
surroundings.
Amy
Amy, Ed, DeRay
Amy
DeRay & Eddy smiling because Amy's working
Jeanette
Oh Yeah!
Jeanette & DeRay
Jeanette
But waking up the second morning under the shelter
of the majestic sheer cliffs on three sides, the hanging gardens, the
glistening water; I surrendered; totally emerged in the beauty and wonder. The Pharaohs thought they were so wonderful
using thousands upon thousands of slave Egyptians to build the pyramids; how do
they think we got these many dimensional sheer cliffs into place with all the
colors, shapes, crags, crannies, streaks, ripples, rumbles, twirls, swirls,
juts, jigs, and jags? Stairs both
right-side-up and up-side-down, making it possible to either walk to or from
heaven. Handy. The story of the ages is etched in stone. Nature’s
hieroglyphics!
Amy
Jeanette & her Hanging Gardens
My brother, Lynn, in declining our invitation to
Lake Powell, wrote: “Actually we are afraid of water. Anything larger
than the old pollywog pond up to the corral is too much for me. I learned to swim in the pond out to the
herd, it was 18 inches deep and 8 feet across.”
I responded: “Sorry you can't go to Lake Powell. It's not about water; it's about scenery and
serenity and Southern Utah.”
But I was wrong. It’s the scenery, the serenity, AND THE
WATER. The water enhances everything; it
compliments and completes the scene.
Actually, it doubles the vista because the colorful cliffs are reflected
in the calm, still water; a shade darker maybe but definitely in Technicolor,
awesome depth and dimension.
In darkness, the stars are reflected
in the lake so if one tires of looking up at the stars, you can turn over on
your tummy and look down at the stars reflected in the still water. Is there anything more peaceful than lying in
bed studying the stars, seeing satellites and shooting stars both above and
below?
To swim in our alcove is ultimate contentment and
joy unsurpassed. Don’t they say that
water is the #1 creative tool for children of all ages; sand is second. We have both at Lake Powell – in abundance.
Our next door neighbor is a huge boulder growing
out of the lake; sheer cliffs on the other side. Excellent neighbors. Instead of sirens, there is silence; as well
as lizards, chipmunks, crows and itty bitty birds with long beaks. Does anyone know what they are? I’ll bet Mar would. The water is our grass; never needs mowing,
watering or fertilizing; refreshes and replenishes itself. Cacti bloom in our front yard.
“I love my
boat.
I’m sure glad
I got it for my birthday 15 years ago.
It’s my
favorite, next to my Buick.”
“I love our
house.
I love our
houseboat.
Catch my
drift?”
“The year I
got the houseboat was the happiest year of my childhood!” That was a welcome relief after hearing about
the worst years of his (Ed’s) childhood for so long.
In her spare time, Amy worked on my Ghost Beads*.
I want her to fix my necklace so I can get past the sentinels into heaven. I want to be prepared. It’s calm, peaceful, quiet, magnificent here. Is this heaven?
*GHOST BEADS: The juniper plant (sometimes
incorrectly called a Cedar) has long been considered sacred by the Native
tribes of the Southwest. The branches
have been used as smudges and in medicine bundles for centuries, and the
berries have been used as medicine for many ailments. The berries have a hard-shelled seed in the
center, which is a staple food for small rodents such as mice and
packrats. They chew off one end of the
hard little nut and pull out the fleshy part to eat. The hard shell is discarded. It is easy for us to drill or grind off the
other side of the shell to create a bead.
This is what we call a “Ghost Bead”.
At Red Cliff Ascent wilderness program, where Amy
worked during part of 1999, they used the following legend.
The Legend of the Ghost Bead
When a person dies and begins that journey to the
next life, there is a path that person must follow. The way is not always easy. Spread out along that path there are 100
warrior sentinels that guard the way into heaven to keep those that do not
belong from entering. To pass these
sentinels, a ghost bead must be given to each.
Somewhere along the path is old man Coyote, the
trickster. He is cunning and sly and the
teacher of hard lessons. He would trick
a person out of a bead if he can, so just to be safe, an extra ghost bead is
carried.
Upon reaching the end of the path to the afterlife
a person must still have a personal bead; one that is kept sacred throughout
this next stage of existence.
To make sure that the beads would be in possession
when a person dies, a necklace is made for that person and is worn throughout
this Earth life. One hundred and two
beads are placed on this necklace, one for each sentinel, one for Old Man
Coyote, and one for the person to keep.
A ghost bead necklace is always made for a person by another. A gift has more power than something that is
made for selfish reasons. Selfish things
are not the way to the next life, so something that is to be taken on that
journey must not be made for selfish reasons.
à
Amy made one for me on March 18, 1999. She had been sitting there working on it but
I hadn’t paid any attention to what she was doing. We were watching a profile on Steven
Speilburg and he had just thanked his parents when he won an Academy Award and
told them publicly how much he loves them.
“How do you get your children to
love you?” I queried. “Are we feeling sorry for ourselves?”
Amy teased. Then she stood up and set
the necklace down on my lap and walked over to get the book so I would know the
significance of the gift.
While we were riding bikes one day, my Ghost Bead
necklace broke and we couldn’t find all the beads. She gathered more and was repairing the
necklace on the houseboat as mentioned above.
In the center, she put a small carved wooden love spoon that we bought
while we were in Wales last year. I’m
ready.
à
On Sunday, Amy and I had to undo the despised
anchors so we could move to a sandy beach where DeRay could reinforce the swim
platform. “This will probably take an hour,” he cautioned us. That was 9:30 AM. We pulled out at 2:57 PM. This is DeRay’s baby.
“Hi gorgeous,”
“Thanks.”
“I wasn’t
talking to you, Fatso. I was talking to
your wife. You’re handsome.”
We slept in until 8:30 on Tuesday. It takes awhile to relax. You don’t know how sick you are until you get
better – That is, stressed, tired, worn out, exhausted with society’s pressure,
time commitments. I think civilization
wears us down. Cement. Brick. Steel.
Metal. Glass. Plaster. Shingles. Asphalt. Boundaries. Restraints. Are they all an affront to the natural man
who gathers strength and vitality from natural resources?
It is so quiet.
It is so peaceful.
It is so beautiful.
It is so still.
It is so calm.
It is so dark.
It’s salve for the soul.
It’s just us – Dad, Mom, Ed, and Amy.
We don’t necessarily have to be fully dressed,
have our hair combed or makeup on.
We’re family.
I had jumped in the lake after doing the anchors
and later when the boat was in the shade (4:30 YEAH! We were in the shade until around 12:30 so,
all in all, we had less that 4 hours of August sun. Heavenly.), Ed and I went
topside. I took my wet shirt off and was
lying on the deck in my sports bra (the kind people wear to the mall and
everywhere else).
“Nice chest,”
Ed says.
Telling the story later, DeRay says, “He never says that to me. He always says ‘Nice Belly’.”
Well, some have it one place and some another!!!
It must be the Body Pump class. No one has said anything like that before!
Later he said, “Nice
butt” . . .”but don’t write it.”
Ed doesn’t like to drink water because he doesn’t
like to go to the bathroom. We lecture, “Ed, when we were kids, we didn’t have
bathrooms on our houseboats. The
pioneers didn’t even have motors. They
pushed their houseboats every inch of the way across the Plains!”
Since we put the hot tub in the basement at home,
anyone sleeping in the kitchen/bedroom has to pass through Amy’s bedroom to get
to the bathroom. With a 4-year-old,
Brent’s nocturnal habits, and Jan’s TV, she thought the parade went on in
perpetuity. Having to be to work early
and needing her sleep, she finally relented and moved upstairs into her old
bedroom.
So we get on the houseboat and she has an earache
which the wind bothered; plus she claims Ed’s snores “I DON’T SNORE” so she moved to the bedroom down. You guessed it, we all marched through her
bedroom every time we went to the bathroom, got a drink of water or got up at
the ungodly hour of 6 or 7 or 8. She
can’t win. Face it, Amy.
One night we lay in bed topside talking about the
houseboat sinking. It scared Ed half to
death. As he drifted off to sleep, he
was clenching the rail with both hands. “You could go to sleep with your life jacket
on,” suggested Amy.
“Hey, we’re on
an air mattress, we’ll float. We’ll be
OK.”
“We’ll wake up
floating on our air mattress. ‘We don’t
know how the boat sank. We’re sticking
to our story.’” Amy
got that line from reading in the logbook.
July 22, 1999. Repairs Removed
Port Out Drive, changed waterpump from Port to Starboard and exhaust Hose,
underway to Empty Septic and Bildge. Bleu Exhaust Hose Again, Towed to Bullfrog
Pump Station (what a Task) Towed to Beach Engine Repair exhaust Again, underway
Again Not over 1300 Rpm’s, getting Dark Locate Spot Just off main chanell. Boat
Took on Water, Attempt to Save, LOST Cause
BOAT SANK.
“All lies,”
DeRay says, but the sinker stuck to his story.
It cost $22,000 for parts and recovery; the owners
(i.e. DeRay and two or three others; always DeRay with a different one each
time. Cai, an unowner, even went down a
couple of times.) did all the labor themselves.
Insurance paid around $18,000.
DeRay loaned them $10,000.
Amy bought the groceries and fixed all the
meals. She has the uncanny ability to
fix gourmet food effortlessly. It’s so
nice to have grown children to take over the arduous responsibilities and give
us a break. I don’t mind passing the
baton on at all.
We have gone into complete remission since we got
home; neglecting simple household tasks such as making beds, wiping off
counters; picking up or taking out the garbage.
Even eating.
We rested from the summer on Lake Powell; now we
have to rest from Lake Powell. August
25, 2000
HUGH
HISTORY VERSION: It was actually 6 PM
when we got gone, in a driving rain. We
stopped at Robintino’s for a pizza and salads, arriving at Lake Powell at 1:10
AM. It’s always a relief to get
there. It’s always welcoming.
Left Bullfrog at 10 AM. Dump & fill, just to be sure. Water in gas so Dad is working on that
problem while Amy drives. I slept and edited
Amy’s book. I obsess on everything I do
anymore. Once I get started, I can’t let
it go. Our regular spot was taken; thank
heaven, because we found a spot on down with hanging gardens, sheer cliffs on
three sides; so far from the main channel that we didn’t even get waves; and
only sunny from 12:30 to around 4. Can
you imagine such a haven in August?
Lovely swim. Amy fixed a Mountain
Man breakfast; Bagel sandwiches for lunch and a gourmet salmon dinner; corn on
cob and summer squash all cooked on the grill – a melt in your mouth type of dinner. Windy.
Relaxing. Reading. Napping.
After Amy’s specialty breakfast, we pulled anchors
and went just around the corner to a sandy beach where we didn’t even have to
anchor; the wind kept the boat pushed up against the shore. DeRay strengthened the swim ladder; he said
it might take an hour. It took
five. Ed had a bath and we swam and
sanded and got sunburned. We went back
to the same spot. Hamburgers for
dinner. Staring at the stars at bedtime.
We’re perched.
We ain’t moving. We like it here. Ed & I swam in the morning. There was a huge wind (the boat didn’t
move). Amy sent me on a rescue mission
to save the chair that flew overboard.
It seemed safer in the water than on the boat so I stayed in. Amy joined me but was too cold so DeRay
joined me. He stayed in an hour after I
got out. Amy & DeRay learned to play
Scrimmage; Amy tried to teach me but I failed.
It is so quiet. It is so
peaceful. It is so beautiful. Ed feels lonely. He likes a bigger group. I like doing dishes for four. Perfect.
Amy fixed delicious Dutch Oven.
It is so still. It is so calm. It is so dark. It’s salve for the soul.
We slept in until 8:30 AM. It takes awhile to relax. You don’t know how tired you are, until you
get rested. We read, swam, played games,
napped. Amy made Pigs in a Blanket with
Corn Meal in the Dutch Oven. Amazingly
good and beautiful. She would have won a
Grand Champion at the State Fair!
Amy suggested that we clean and pack while we’re
in the shade. DeRay & I swam before
breakfast. We were cleaned and packed by
11 and were off to tour. We went down
the canyon a little ways and decided we would have enough of a tour just
getting back to Bullfrog. We got back
around 3 PM but it was 5:05 before we got off the boat. The propane place closed at 5 so we had to
take the tank back empty. It is supposed
to be refilled when it gets down to 30%.
It was actually a little below that when we got on. Oh well.
We stopped in Hanksville for hamburgers & malts and got home a
little after midnight. It was two by the
time we got the van unloaded and the food secured.
No comments:
Post a Comment