We also found out that our sad lumbering bodies on a couple of slowly and noisily deflating tubes had no place in the middle of a boat lane, and we were the subject of much ridicule.

The Oasis

Written By Louisa Mow in Page, Arizona
Crossing the Navajo Reservation was slightly traumatic, in the sense that we all tried very hard to glue ourselves to the totally inefficient AC in our car. We looked out the windows desperate to see some semblance of water, getting much too excited when we saw a mirage in the distance or a roadside tap. The water in our car was running low and our bodies were losing valuable liquids fast. So we were excited to drive as fast as possible to Lake Powell. We weren't entirely sure what we would find, but the thought of a lake was a dream come true in the scorching deserts of Arizona.

All of us were very sweaty when we reached the town of Page, located on the outskirts of the lake and littered with hundreds of churches with an assortment of denominations. The sun was low in the sky when we crossed the bridge over Powell Canyon. A 500ft drop off into the abyss below. The other side of the bridge was a spectacular man-made dam, and the heart of the creation that is Lake Powell.


The road wound with the bend of the cliffs, and then flattened out to a remarkable view - a violet twilight illuminating pink sandstone pinnacles rising up out of a deep purple lake. The water twisted and turned through Canyons, explored by boats and jetskis. As we drove down to its banks (almost getting stuck in the sandy dunes), we saw cars parked in the water with people dipping their feet in the cool water from the backs of their trailers.

We parked our car, set up camp, forgoing the lid of our tent so we could sleep under the stars, and ran down in the heat, diving into the water with no hesitation. Any further travel plans were halted at that point, we were quite happily settled swimming and admiring the wonders right around us.


Unfortunately, we had no boat for exploring the lake, so we thought that an equal replacement for such would be a couple of $5 Walmart floaty inner tubes. Needless to say, our adventures of the lake took us a slow and pathetic 50m (I'm being generous) from the shore.
We also found out that our sad lumbering bodies on a couple of slowly and noisily deflating tubes had no place in the middle of a boat lane and we were the subject of much ridicule.

On our last day, we visited the iconic Horseshoe Bend, just minutes down the road. Ila stayed in the car with the AC as it was midday, 46° heat and the hike to the bend had a strong vertical incline. The outlook was a sheer drop. There were no railings and nothing to create a barrier between you and the edge, and you pray that the soft sandstone ledge won't collapse. But it was beautiful, with the wind brushing against your face as you looked out at a vermilion canyon bend with a blue-green river 500ft below. It was spectacular and one of the most amazing places I have ever been. When we got back to the car and I showed Ila the pictures we took, she shot out of the car and started hiking up through the blazing sun, no questions needing to be asked. There was no way she was going to miss it.


Afterwards, we went south to Lee's Ferry and picked apricots, plums, and green apples at an old orchard by red cliffs and braved freezing temperatures as we dove into icy river rapids nearby. It was very hot so I still maintain that the cold was worth it. Our road then headed south to the Grand Canyon.


Words don't ever do it justice but I'll try to in my next post.