The Demise of the Kingfisher II

Yes. It happened. Our houseboat, the Kingfisher II, sunk last week in the Bullfrog Marina at Lake Powell. They pulled her up from 80 feet of water. Heck of a storm, they said. Four foot swells in the covered slip area means likely double that out on the buoys where the Kingfisher was. Sixty mile-an-hour winds and eight foot swells. Unrelenting, not letting her get her bearings or catch her breath. Keeping her disoriented and off-balance. It was more than she could withstand. Some things are like that.

They've got her at Offshore right now. The Captain heard from the president of our houseboat shareholders association. He sounds like he thinks she's not salvageable. I hear my father-in-law is going down on Friday to take a look.

I've spent a long time trying to figure out how I feel about this. I think I'm okay with letting this be the end of the voyage for her. For awhile we imagined that she could be repaired. We figured she'd need a new name... like maybe the "Born Again" (since the whole immersion thing definitely happened!) or perhaps the "Coming Up for Air" or something along those lines. But the more I think about it, the more I have embraced the idea that things change. Times change. I confess that while so many of the images in my memory of my time and the faces of the people who were with me at Lake Powell bring me soul-deep smiles inside, not all my memories about being aboard the Kingfisher II are happy ones. Perhaps I like the idea of being able to disassociate from that.

But, at the same time, I'm hoping there will be lots of years making new memories at Lake Powell... seeing my children and their friends (for now) and their spouses and children (in the future) jumping off the side of a different houseboat, coming down into the galley for Monte Cristo sandwiches, having toilets that consistently flush, riding around the grottos and inlets in a ski boat, and having to remind myself to inhale when the beauty of Lake Powell takes my breath away as we turn into the Escalante.

My kids have happy memories and for that I'm grateful. Had it not been for her existence, I would likely never have been introduced to Lake Powell -- now one of my favorite places on earth. For that, I'm grateful, too. I don't suppose Davy Jones' locker applies to inland lakes... but nevertheless... a fond farewell to the Kingfisher II.