Pick of the Litter from a Houseboat : Volunteer cleanup program at Lake Powell benefits nature as well as the human spirit.

Mammoth Lake Powell, where visitors rent houseboats and drift through cathedral-like canyons of water-worn red rock, is reportedly gaining on the Grand Canyon as Arizona’s most popular tourist site.

And this many-fingered man-made lake, which straddles the Arizona-Utah border about 600 miles from Los Angeles, has seemingly ignored the national recession. It drew 3 million visitors last year (up 4% over 1990)--and those 3 million have inadvertently created an inimitable, low-cost vacation opportunity.

That many visitors can create a pile of rubble. Sadly, the National Park Service, which administers the Glen Canyon National Recreation Area surrounding the lake, discovered that not all of us deem it necessary to clean up after ourselves. So, with the federal budget crunch on, NPS initiated a volunteer cleanup program in an effort to maintain the pristine beauty of the lake’s massive shoreline.

The crux of the program, begun in November, 1990, is a free five-day houseboat excursion on Lake Powell, during which one contributes a few hours of one’s time toward saving the environment.

When I heard about the program, I applied posthaste. In order to qualify, you must be over 18 years of age and able to bend, lift and hike over rough terrain. Period. (Unfortunately, this year’s trips are fully booked, but NPS is taking requests for information on 1993 voyages.)

For years, this Southern Californian had dreamed of being able to afford a houseboat vacation (the thousand-dollar-a-week variety) that would whisk me away to never-never land. Judging from its size (186 miles in length, with 1,960 miles of shoreline woven into 96 canyons), Lake Powell could be considered forever-ever land.

The lake’s northern point is Hite Marina in southeastern Utah; its southern point lies just beyond Wahweap Marina, where Interstate 89 crosses Glen Canyon Dam on the outskirts of Page, Ariz. In between, there is a dot on the map identified as Bullfrog, Utah. Trip 21 (there will be 26 trips this year) originated at that dot. The crew consisted of a Texan and three other Californians besides myself.

From Southern California, Bullfrog seemed almost inaccessible, surrounded as it is by Utah’s National Park Service land and Arizona’s Navajo Indian Reservation. My getting there depended on my 6-year-old Honda CRX.

With adventure in my soul, I departed La Quinta, Calif., last July via Interstate 10, and wound my way east and north through Arizona, intent on taking a shortcut--the Utah 261 cutoff at Mexican Hat. In my zeal I ignored the map’s reference to switchbacks. My car made it, but it took me much longer than planned and, as a result, I missed the last ferry from Hall’s Crossing across the bay to Bullfrog.

I was disappointed, but no need to panic. I simply waited for the 44-foot refurbished houseboat, dubbed The Trash Tracker, towing a 20-foot barge, to cross the bay the next morning and pick me up. Capt. Lee Heronemus (a.k.a. Captain H. on this cruise) claims he’s never left a floundering passenger.

A traffic signal would have been beneficial as we headed across Bullfrog Bay that morning. Speedboats towing water-skiers were busily performing figure-eights all around us. But the Trash Tracker, with her gasoline-powered outboard engine, bobbed with ease over the revelers’ wakes. We settled into comfortable deck chairs to do some serious sightseeing while our navigator steered a course for Moki Canyon, about two hours uplake.

Finding no available docking space in Moki Canyon, Captain H. headed further uplake--95 canyons to go as far as our happy crew was concerned. By noon, though, we’d claimed a private cove in Forgotten Canyon and secured the anchor.

The gentle tug of the scow’s towline reminded us that she was ready to go to work. After a lunch of submarine sandwiches and fresh watermelon, the captain herded his crew aboard the barge and we headed out for a few hours of search and cleanup in Forgotten Canyon’s half-dozen coves.

We made it a contest to see who could be first to spot a piece of trash (usually an aluminum can) on the shoreline. Then Captain H. would shore the barge so we could retrieve it. In between stops we used a skimmer to pluck water balloons and watermelon rinds from the water.

Our efforts reaped a huge reward. The Captain beached the scow so we could trek up a steep path for a firsthand view of the best-preserved dwellings in the entire Glen Canyon area of the Anasazi, the people who once lived here. Defiance House, the oldest cliff dwelling in the area, dates to about AD 1250. Its pictographs have defied the elements for more than 700 years.

This side trip inspired us. Overnight we became fanatics. Captain H. and crew spent the next three days crisscrossing Slick Rock, Annies and Lake Canyons. In the end we’d added a decrepit wooden table, the remains of two metal chairs, dozens of used paper plates, hundreds of aluminum cans and reams of toilet paper to our spoils.

We were ready to lie back and relax when we anchored in Iceberg Canyon. (With the temperature then hovering at 100 degrees, the name is a misnomer.) But after a quick, refreshing swim we were eager to board the scow and go to work again. Our endurance paid off because this turned out to be the day Trip 21 unearthed its claim to fame. Bill Orloff, an engineer from Yorba Linda, convinced Captain H. that the square-cornered object on the desert-varnished cliff side was too defined to really be a rock. He was right. With Bill’s wife, Pat, synchronizing our efforts, the crew went to work. Burt Becker, an engineer from Encino, wielded a shovel. Our Texan, Judith Anderson, put her shoulder to the task. And the author shot pictures of our motley crew uncovering the remains of a sofa bed that had long ago been discarded to posterity.

In the late afternoons we lounged on rafts salvaged from the day’s bounty. When the crimson sun performed its blazing vanishing act behind an austere canyon wall, we measured the kersplashes and tried to identify them. Was it a black crappie, striped bass or a rainbow trout?

Sleeping accommodations were flexible and creative. The Trash Tracker has one cabin with two double berths and two singles. But, in fact, most of us elected to sleep under the stars: the Orloffs and Judith Anderson went top deck with their bedrolls and some cushions lifted from the sleeping berths and slept under the full moon. The caption took the bow; I took the stern. Burt liked the seclusion of one of the cabin berths.

Is this a dream vacation you can afford? I purchased a $30 sleeping bag and a $3 can of bug spray. I packed my old clothes in an older duffel bag. We had to provide our own food for five days; my outlay for food totaled $31.

We had been in phone contact prior to the trip, and elected to have each member provide one lunch and one dinner for all. Everybody was on their own for breakfast, which turned out to be coffee and orange juice for everyone but the captain, who preferred bacon and eggs. The houseboat has a small refrigerator and stove. There’s one bath, with a shower, no tub and limited hot water.

My biggest concern had been the prospect of spending five days closely quartered with strangers. I worried for naught. Ranging in age from 51 to 62, we were a great team. (More than 90% of the program’s volunteers are able-bodied citizens over 50.)

Our crew agreed that in the beginning, this vacation was envisioned as just another lark. In the end, we each confessed that it had raised our level of consciousness. Magnificent Lake Powell, the nation’s second-largest, has been dubbed the “Jewel of the West.” This mere youngster joined our National Park System in 1963. But she’s already in danger of dying due to the carelessness of the species known as Man.

This author is one of the lucky ones. I came and fell in love with the wild. I came away a wiser, more thoughtful and, I hope, a more caring person.

GUIDEBOOK

To Beautify Lake Powell

All slots are filled, including standbys, for this year’s five-day Lake Powell Trash Tracker voyages, which run April to mid-November. However, you can get on a list now to receive information on 1993 trips. That information, including applications, will be mailed in August. To get on the list, write: National Park Service, P.O. Box 1507, Page, Ariz. 86040, or call (602) 645-2471. The approximately 200 spots on the 1993 active and reserve lists will be filled as applications are received, according to a Park Service spokesman.