Advertisement
Published: March 13th 2019
Edit Blog Post
The next morning, a little more prepared for the road ahead this time, we headed back out onto the Apache Trail to find a spot to launch the boat. This being Sunday morning, we were hoping the traffic would be lighter, and it was. Other than the blind corners, I felt less nervous as we worked our way west. There was no relief to be had from the washboard surface though — that was just grin and bear it.
Pretty soon we arrived at the first launch area, a dirt road down a sandy wash, leading to a good natural gravel ramp in a narrow part of the lake. There is camping allowed there too, but several of the folks we had seen yesterday had already left. We maneuvered the truck to a parking spot to the left of the ramp and unloaded the Sportboat.
A word about our new roof rack system for carrying the boat, it has been an unqualified success. Last year, with us just strapping the boat atop the truck, we were constantly having to fool with it. It would get loose, change position, or (worst of all!) loudly squeak. Not this year though, it’s
been solid as a rock and never makes a sound — we don’t even think about it.
We slid the boat in and then dug out the motor. It’s the first time we used it on this trip, and it was buried in the back of the truck, so that took a bit of doing. Soon we were set though, and out on the lake.
Apache Lake is a striking body of water, really like nothing we’ve boated on before. The arid desert canyon walls rise steeply from the water, very rocky, with almost nowhere to land. The shoreline and the slopes are covered in saguaro and other types of cactus, so it’s like sailing through the set of a cowboy movie — a strange juxtaposition.
We headed east through the twisting channel, past a rock outcrop Island, so jagged it would be impossible to land a boat on. Too bad, I like to explore islands. After a mile or so we reached a floating boom, placed there to keep vessels away from the towering Roosevelt Dam. That’s the uppermost, and oldest structure on the Salt River system. Originally built of masonry in the early 20th century,
it was capped over with concrete in the nineties. It’s an impressive piece of work.
I tried a little fishing, as there is supposed to be both largemouth and smallmouth bass there. You would not know it by me though, but I will blame murky conditions from recent runoff for my abject failure.
We did find one low sandy area along the shore though, so we made that our lunch stop. Sandwiches and drinks while sitting in the folding camp chairs we brought— basking in the warm sun by the water, who needs fish?
After a bit we made our way back to our launch site. We headed a bit farther east, but the wind was coming up, and as the lake got wider, a chop began to build. So we just headed back to the truck and set up the chairs again to enjoy the great surroundings.
After a bit we loaded back up and headed back towards our camp. We stopped at the big marina on Roosevelt Lake and took a walk on the dock to look at the boats. There were some surprisingly large ones, mostly houseboats of course, but also a Fountain
Offshore that must have been over 50’ long. On this mud puddle? Are you kidding me? There were also a few sailboats, some upwards of 30’. They were sequestered in there own section of the marina, of course. Typical of the “boating apartheid” you see everywhere.
The impression I got from a lot of the boats was that they probably didn’t leave the dock much, if at all. They seemed to be floating drinking platforms, not that there’s much unusual in that. What I did find interesting was that, like most marinas, there was a bar on shore — but there were also not one, but two more located right out on the docks — I bet this is a wild place in the Summer.
Back to the campsite we went, leaving enough light left for me to make another hike around the shoreline, continuing my life-long fruitless search for arrowheads. I knew that this would be an ideal place to hunt for points, and I had spent time everyday here seriously looking. Even a crummy discard would have made me happy, but I found no points again. I wasn’t totally shut out though as I did find some worked and flaked flint, and a small pottery shard — maybe next time?
We had intended to head north next, up toward the Grand Canyon, Lee’s Ferry, and Lake Powell. The forecast up there for the next few days is awful though, so we are going to circle around the Superstition Mountains and head over to Lost Dutchman SP and wait out this latest weather set back. That’s a tough place to get into though, so we’ll keep our fingers crossed that we can find a spot.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.165s; Tpl: 0.01s; cc: 12; qc: 48; dbt: 0.0507s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb