Standing at the flybridge helm, I found myself reflecting that this was one of the most peaceful underway moments I could recall in an extended nautical career, and perhaps the first time I'd handled a vessel whose progress could be described as stately. A moment later, it occurred to me that this was what houseboat cruising on Lake Powell was all about.

As most westerners know, Powell is the country's second-largest (after Lake Mead) manmade body of water, formed in the 1960s by damming the Colorado River above the Grand Canyon. And it's all too easy, when trying to describe Powell, to fall into the trap of mere statistics: 185 miles long, nearly 2,000 miles of shoreline, 27 million acre-feet capacity, and on and on. About all these numbers tell you is that it's impossible to take in the whole lake at once – and that's one of the lake's many charms.

Powell is not particularly accessible: the nearest sizeable town, Flagstaff, AZ, is 130 miles away, and the closest cities – Las Vegas and Phoenix – are twice as distant.

Even so, most visitors come, as Lynne and I did, by car. It was late in the afternoon when we arrived, and from the road the only views were really glimpses, patches of blue tucked in among stunning pastel buttes and cliffs. Our rental houseboat was waiting for us at brand-new Antelope Point Marina, but because the lake's level is currently about 100 feet below maximum, neither boat nor water was visible from the marina parking lot. Even when we descended to the floating piers, little of the actual lake could be seen.

And anyway, I was too busy staring at the double line of houseboats to consider much of anything else. Ranging in length from about 40 feet to more than 70, they clearly aimed almost entirely at creature comfort, with few concessions to seaworthiness.

Acres of windows, no side decks, and flat bows low enough to scoop up even a moderate sea gave this unreconstructed ocean mariner some pause. What startled me even more was the sheer size of our craft – 59 feet overall, with a beam of 16. The main cabin looked like a modern studio apartment with a steering wheel at one end, and aft of it were no less than four double sleeping cabins and two walk-in heads. On the upper deck, besides a second steering station, were the obligatory wet bar and water slide.

Propulsion was provided by a pair of outboards and electrical power by a big generator, all tucked under the after deck. Our 59-footer was the smaller of two vessels offered by Forever Resorts (www. foreverhouseboats.com), one of the two major rental firms on the lake. The only difference between our boat and its 70-foot big sister was the latter's upper deck hot tub. (It drains into a bilge tank before you get under way.) The other major houseboat rental firm, Lake Powell Resorts and Marinas, has boats that range from 44 to 75 feet. Weekly rental costs vary widely according to both size and season, but range at both operations from about $1,400 for the 44 to nearly $10,000 for the 75.

Visitors to the area should note that Lake Powell Resorts, managed by National Park Service concessionaire, Aramark, also operates a sprawling hotel facility with restaurants and swimming pools a short distance from its Wahweap marina complex. They also have a number of rustic lodges available in the area.

For those who prefer to sleep afloat, a lake houseboat, we soon discovered, is essentially a movable vacation base. Most skippers (if that's the word) spend a couple of days anchored in a particular spot, and many families, having located a perfect cove, may stay put for an entire week. A typical houseboat is mother ship for a covey of small craft – kayaks, ski boats, PWCs – which are really essential for full enjoyment of the lake. What this means for the houseboat renter who can't bring his own water toys with him is an extra cost of a couple thousand dollars for a week's rental of a runabout and a PWC. Perhaps this potential tab explains why the typical houseboat can accommodate eight to 12 passengers.

In any event, we didn't get under way until the following day, after a shopping trip to the large supermarket in Page, the lake's only waterside town, and a thorough briefing by the marina staff. Curiously – at least to me – the boat's lower helm station had nearly all the boat's gauges, the VHF-FM radio, the compass, and the GPS. There was no depth sounder, and even with the lake's reduced depth it wasn't a significant absence: The main channels were so deep the average sounder wouldn't have registered anyway, and even with the boat's bow on the bank, the stern was in quite deep water.

Navigation on the lake takes some getting used to, especially if you're accustomed, as I was, to the orthodox version. The buoyage system has little or nothing to do with port and starboard: rather, most buoys, whether red or green, are midchannel marks. The numbers on them indicate the statute miles from Glen Canyon dam, the lake's official south end. And although it would seem easy to find one's way in such a linear body of water, some of the side canyons and bays are so wide and long it's easy to mistake them for the main channel.

Most piloting is visual, based on identifying the majestic landmarks all around you. A lot of the most significant buttes have names that ought to make spotting them easy - such as Gunsight, which does indeed look like the sight on an old-fashioned rifle's muzzle. At least it does when viewed from the proper angle. From other directions, it's just a nondescript pile of rocks.

Fortunately for me, Forever Resorts, the charter firm, provided us with a copy of Boating and Exploring Map and Guide to the Glen Canyon National Recreation Area, which contained not only a map of the entire lake and its tributary canyons, with the navigational landmarks named, but also color photos and brief descriptions of just about everything you might want to see or explore - and all on a single, multi-folded sheet. Though shops around the lake offer a raft of guides and charts, this is the only one you really need.

The only other unfamiliar aspect of lake houseboating is anchoring. Our vessel had four 22-lb. Danforths, and rodes that were led permanently to cleats on the boat's quarters and both sides about halfway aft. To moor, you picked a soft spot on the bank and held the bow into it while the crew took the anchors out to shore at about 45-degree angles and dug them deeply in with a shovel provided by the management. It's not complicated, but with the lake level rising or falling, you may have to adjust the tension on the lines once a day or so.

Even at the populous, western end of the lake, there's room for literally hundreds of houseboats to find reasonably private "anchorages," and the farther up the lake you go, the more secluded the coves become. One thing to avoid is trying to see it all, because at houseboat speeds that would take half a lifetime. Better to slow down, take it easy, and savor some of the most magnificent panoramas this world provides.

Tony Gibbs sits on the board of directors of BoatUS and is a former editor of The New Yorker and Yachting. This story originally appeared in BoatUS Magazine and edited by MadMariner.com updated February 23, 2009