NO service. The heat of the sun is forcing its way through the passenger window to press against my cheek. As much as I hate the heat trying to burn a hole in my skin, I’m feeling a settled calm. Part of that comes from being done with the rush around- getting ready, stocking the car with essentials, packing for two and prepping the house for friends who will stop in to check on the kitty.

Roadtrips are never as simple as you think. I know I’m forgetting stuff. I should have been packing two days ago. Oh wait. I didn’t even know about this trip two days ago. Come to think of it, roadtripping can be that simple if I can get everything arranged for three people and be out the door in a day and half.

Passengering to Lake Powell for the first weekend in May. It’s our first roadtrip of the season. Last year was a different story with day after day of epic powder at Snowbird I had no desire to leave. This year, it’s the opposite. I have no desire to ski. Instead, it’s off to the water we go to learn to houseboat, to relish the 80 degree temps, to morph jagged snowcapped mountains into raw redrock desert.

The call came two days ago. Slots had opened up for the houseboat course and did I want to rally? Hmmm. We had yard sales, tickets to Derby Day at High West, a Cinco de Mayo party and plans to ski with friends. Did I want to bag all that for a 5 hour roadtrip, a free stay at Defiance Lodge, driving a houseboat and powerboat around the Lake and a welcome invitation to bring my five year old. Yes.

1p.m. and now it’s nearly 6p.m. and we’re not there. 40 more miles. Never make specific plans with people at your final destination. You’re bound to be late. Like that old saying- Half the fun of your trip is your journey. We stopped in Salt Lake for gas and lunch. In Price for the bathroom and in Hanksville for Milk and birthday cake mix. Yep it’s my bday this weekend- Cinco de Mayo actually and I can’t think of better way to celebrate than out of town away from that dreaded question- how old are you? Wtf does it matter, is what I say in my head. J

So we make a cake, clink some Provo Girl and call it good from the bow of the 54-foot Escape.

Hello, Lake Powell!