Lake Powell I

Our family vacation began in the Portland airport. The guy in the security line ahead of me was about my age and just didn't seem to have a clue. He held up the line as he tried to get his belongings into the bins, then the TSA agant made him go back and take off his shoes, and only when prompted did this guy remove the keys and change from his pockets. After stepping through the screening device, he tried to push his way back to get his stuff. "It has to come through the machine and you get it on the other side," I explained. The guy looked a little sheepish. "Oh, thanks. This is my first flight experience." I refrained from telling him that it was Megan's third.

We had a very uneventful flight to Las Vegas, but the Vegas airport is just about the worst place in the world to have to change a baby. The designers apparently expected you to leave your tots at home when visiting Sin City, as the bathrooms had no good changing station. Megan was very glad not to be left at home though, as she was absolutely enthralled by the lights and activity in the City that Never Sleeps. In fact, Megan didn't want to sleep either as we strolled through several different casinos. She was still fuss-free and raring to go at ten pm - too bad her mom is such a party pooper!

From Las Vegas we drove to Page, AZ where we boarded a houseboat on Lake Powell, the lovely M26, the vessel that would be our home for the next week.

We spent the week putting around the lake, finding a different beach to anchor at each night.