Let’s take a break from Hawaii, shall we?
Back in the stone ages, Ryan was a high school senior. 10 years ago next summer, if you can believe it! Because they were bad-a, hard-core 18 year-olds, Ryan and his buddies liked to switch the first few letters of the names of places, people, random items, etc., just for kicks. For example “Ryan Holt” was Hyan Rolt. “Tony Christensen” was Cony Thristensen. “Sand Hollow” was Hand Sollow. Super mature, huh. But I guess I married the kid partly for his goofy, “keep me young” attitude, so all’s well that ends well. Fortunately, the only name that really stuck was Pake Lowell. To this day Ryan rarely calls that grand old Lake Powell anything else.
Lake Powell was, and is, one of the places nearest and dearest to Ryan’s big, shiny heart. I think he has a secret plan to retire to a houseboat and live out our eighties clad in neon swimsuits, chugging along the nooks and crannies at 5 MPH. Not a bad idea, really. I mean, have you ever star-gazed from the top of a houseboat? I am convinced you can see right through to heaven.
Last week we took a quick trip to Utah to visit Ryan’s family, see a few dear friends and renew our acquaintances with the Lake. We set out pretty early (for us) and made our way from St. George to Kanab and on through the red desert to the prettiest shade of blue you ever did see. Soon the water was set out before us; quite like a never-ending dessert buffet. All you can think about is partaking until you pop.
We spent the first day with Ryan’s sisters, Crystal and Katie, and my awesome in-laws, Norm and Laurene. We buzzed around the Main Channel and spent the afternoon drifting (and wakeboarding) through Last Chance. Unfortunately, all I have are i-phone pics. It made my teeth hurt to think about bringing my camera on board the Cobalt. I’m kind of selfish like that. On the way in for the evening we stopped at Antelope Marina for dinner. If you are smart you will say yes to the pizza and skip the fish tacos. Take my word for it. Saturday morning we met up with Norm’s daughter, Lindsay, and our niece and nephew A and M. Just when I think I am over the baby bug they pop up out of nowhere. It’s a plot, I tell you.
We spent the afternoon in my favorite crevice of Lake Powell, Navajo Canyon. The sagebrush dusted cliffs literally seem to grow right out of the warm green water and juxtapose themselves perfectly against the bluest sky you’ve ever met. (See how I did that? I have always wanted to incorporate ‘juxtapose’ into a sentence, and now I have. Big fat dream come true, right there.)
That man of mine is sure going to make a great papa one day. My heart was a warm melty puddle of hormones hanging out on the floor of the boat watching him with interact with the kiddos. He’s a natural. Basically a kid-whisperer.
LP, you treated us right. But then again, you always do. I mean we even managed to avoid blistering sunburns for the first time, ever. Thanks for that. In the wise words of yearbook-lingo, “stay awesome” Pake Lowell. We sure do love ya.