Desert Breakaway
Emily Hauser
You may have heard, somewhere or other, that “speed changes you.” Well, on this spectacular mid-fall weekend in Lake Havasu, Arizona, we’re learning the absolutely prophetic nature of that catchy little phrase. Young Kennedi Staub, a mere slip of a thing at three years old, knows it for sure. Riding along (at a nice 70 mph, thank you very much) in the family H2X one warm, star-studded Friday evening, she begins to cry — Daddy, it seems, isn’t going fast enough. The tyke must get it straight from mom Julie, who declares: “I love speed!”
It’s the Hahm Motorsports Breakaway 2004, and a great many sweet Bajas find they’ve been trailered out from California to Lake Havasu, Arizona, for a weekend of fun, frolic, hi-jinx-ery, and, yes, speed. Hours before Kennedi can bemoan her daddy’s driving style, things start off with a bang the instant folks hit the water. The rate of travel is easily matched, second for second, by the megawatts of the smiles. “This,” says Joe Stubbs, loving owner of a Stars and Stripes 275, “is why I bought this boat!”
Joe and his Baja have the pleasant duty of squiring around a bevy of lovely young ladies, who are garnering a great deal of photographic interest and have joined the weekend’s event as guests. Shelly Voors, Amanda Janes and Athalie Waugh can, however, be excused for not yet having boats to add to the armada, if only because they are still in high school. Not to worry though: Shelly plans to get her hands on her own Baja as soon as she can.
The rest of the country may be starting to batten down their hatches for the rattle of winter winds, but in the southwest, it is hot, ladies and gentlemen. The lake is perfect and still, a deep shade of indigo, and the mountains around us are so red, they seem to bleed right into the water. The sky — well, the sky is indescribable. Is there a word for this blue?
Of course, the 45-mile-long Lake Havasu isn’t really a lake, per se, but a reservoir created when the Parker Dam was built on the Colorado River 70 years ago. The name comes from the Paiute language, meaning “land of the blue green water.” And so, of course, where else would you expect to find London Bridge?
That’s right The London Bridge, of “falling down” fame, is right here in Arizona, transported and re-built, brick by brick (by brick by brick), all 10,000 tons of it, by a certain Robert P. McCulloch. Back in the late 1960s, McCulloch saved the bridge from the embarrassing fate of not falling but slowly sinking into the Thames. Some $2,460,000, a trip by barge and truck, and a great deal of painstaking reconstruction later, it was ready for the likes of our Bay owners to buzz along under it, right past what can only be Arizona’s only English village.
As the Breakaway’s first day draws to a close, the night air cools just right and the moon is so enormous, it’s like “a flashlight up there,” says Bernie Ouser, event coordinator and everyone’s favorite demo captain. Bernie’s having a blast, and the attendees can’t sing his praises enough. For some of the boaters, this is their maiden voyage, but rather than feel out gunned, Bernie’s got them keeping pace with the big boys, full throttle with the best of ‘em.
At some point, blonde cutie-pie Kennedi falls prey to her age and, along with big brother Shain, his friend Brendan and three-month old Broc, falls asleep under the bow. Mom and Dad — Jim and Julie Staub — get to cruise around for hours as the lake lulls their little ones into never-never land. Any bets as to what they’re dreaming about?
Saturday dawns at least as gorgeous as the day before, only more so — today we have all darn day! People have brought water-skis and wakeboards, they’re showing off and teaching each other, stories are swapped and there’s a very clear camaraderie in the air. The crowd is so varied, from infants to fully-ripened adults and everything in between, that it’s almost like a little village is formed. And this is, in fact, what so many of them say they were looking for when they went out and chose their Baja — good-God-Almighty velocity with, you know, fun people to hang out with!
As most of the weekend so far has been spent getting as close as a person can to living in a shark’s skin — sleek, fast, and oh-so-beautiful — it should come as no surprise that dinner is not a sit-down, sedate affair. No, we’re havin’ a roast-pig-on-a-spit, y’all! Pork body parts are rent asunder, juices drip off chins, and when all is said and done, prizes big and small are raffled off, to very human shrieks of delight.
If only Sunday morning weren’t our last! Bernie has planned a nice little run from our hotel, the Nautical Inn, to Havasu Springs, a spot known for its fishing and houseboats. An organizational whiz, he’s scheduled 45 minutes to an hour for the jaunt — the usual travel time. It’s still hot, though, and very quickly, spirits rise to meet the heat. Did Bernie not notice the weekend’s moniker? This is the Hahm Motorsports Breakaway, after all, and breaking away is what each and every boater here lives to do.
And — as you can imagine — we’re off! Twenty riotous and rather raucous minutes later, the fish are diving for deeper cover and the houseboaters are scratching their heads, as a pack of Bajas all but squeal (if water could squeal) into view. If the fish are of the talking variety, they’re probably already wishing us a fond farewell, as our speed-demon gang turns right around and does it all over again, this time heading in the opposite direction. Jim says that it all started with “a guy in an Outlaw.”
“He wanted to show off, and so did we. And it was on!” Kennedi, it seems safe to say, is loving every minute, right along with the bigger kids. Young Broc hasn’t said a word yet, but is that a twinkle in his eye?
(C) Baja Full Throttle 2004
