Picture
Of me
In a boat
On a river.
Photographer,
Bob,
In kaleidoscope
Eyes...
Apologies to John and Lucy
Friend Bob Dunham and I had set out to canoe down Utah's Green River for a couple weeks. Excitedly arriving at the banks of the mighty Green, we quickly noticed that the spring runoff that year was going to be a bit much for our little thirteen-foot Coleman (loaded down with us and two weeks of supplies).
Bummer! The decision was: (a) go ahead with the trip as planned and die; or (b) do something else. Bob talked me into "b." We opted to tour the southern half of the Beehive State by truck instead.
Southern Utah is incredibly beautiful. I highly recommend it. Travel between Arches, and Zion, and Bryce, and Natural Bridges reveals some of the most spectacular terrain America has to offer.
Anyway, Bob knew this big fellow named Delbert who lived in Moab. When Delbert learned of our canoeing disappointment, he insisted on taking us on a two-day powerboat tour of Lake Powell.
What a place. I felt this eerie sense of sadness and regret hanging over the area. I kept wondering what Glen Canyon must have looked like before it was filled with water. As we floated like phantoms above the water-filled chasm, I kept wanting to dive down amongst the submerged trees, just to see how things might have been.
Motorboating is loud, jarring work; the whine of the motor just about drove me nuts under the hot sun. Fighting back, I opened my mouth and vocalized the drone, matching the motor's fluctuating pitch. That's when Bob snapped this picture.
