If you hail from some part of the country lacking convenient access to the Colorado River, then it’s likely that the most you’ve seen or heard of Lake Havasu is the wild parties and wanton hedonism depicted in various episodes of MTV’s Spring Break. However, to those who frequent the beautiful reservoir separating California from Arizona, Lake Havasu is one of the most picturesque, clean, and boater-friendly destinations in the West. Wanting to spend a few days exploring “Arizona’s playground,” we took the 2009 Kawasaki Ultra 260LX and Honda Aquatrax F-15X out for a few days with a few friends. What we ended up with was a fantastic four-day trip, covering almost 200 miles of the lake’s endless desert scenery, and a good feel for both the Honda and Kawasaki’s cruising aptitudes.

Arriving at Cattail Cove to a warm, clear Arizona morning in early June, I was welcomed by my father and a few of his close friends at the launch ramp. Once all the gear was loaded onto our 28-foot Commander Cat for the ride back to the campsite, we launched the Kawi and Honda and sped off toward our cove, all the while trying to curb the excitement that had me pinning the Kawasaki’s throttle wide-open for the majority of the ten-minute ride back to camp. Having camped here almost every summer with my family during grade school, I will always carry a deep love for the fresh smell of sage in the morning and that unique taste of Havasu’s water (no, it doesn’t taste like death, as some lakes do). The bow spray hitting my face at 65 mph and the mild winds bristling my newly-buzzed hair brought back a flood of good memories and I couldn’t resist giving a spirited “Whoohoooo!!” as I carved along the blue water at top speed.

Arriving back at home base, we tied up the skis and I made the rounds, shaking hands and giving bro-hugs (you know – those close-fisted man-hugs like they do in Top Gun, where you don’t have to feel awkward about hugging another dude in public) to all my dad’s friends, who had already been camping for a few days. Rob (aka Rob Lobster), who flies all the way out from Chicago every single year for the week-long “guys’trip,” was already busy dishing out ice-cold Bud Light to the crew. Meanwhile, Jim, Jack and my uncle Mark unloaded and set up their tents. The air was already warming up – this was going to be a beautiful day.

(Above: Sunday morning at the campsite. Where's breakfast, Rob???)

The rest of the afternoon was spent on not much more than relaxing. But, I still burned through almost a full tank of gas in each of the runabouts – it’s hard to keep from rocketing around the lake and enjoying some of that first-day excitement when you’ve got two beautiful new state-of-the-art watercraft to play on. For the late afternoon, we were met by some cool breezes from the northeast and partial cloud cover, which wasn’t all that bad; it was definitely better than some of our unforgettable trips years before, in which the temperatures reached upward of 128 degrees Fahrenheit and the humidity-soaked late-August Arizona desert brought violent monsoons and electrical storms every afternoon. Plus, the clouds this evening made the sunset simply breathtaking.

(Above: Simply too beautiful for words. If my point-and-shoot Canon was able to make it look this good, imagine being there in person. It was like the first time I heard the Beatles.)

Wanting to log some time on my CWB Transcend wakeboard, we geared up Sunday afternoon for a refreshing wakeboard session in our cove, which adequately protected us from the winds that had blown out the glass on the rest of the open lake south of the London Bridge Resort. And, since most of the weekend crowds had already headed back home, we pretty much had the lake to ourselves by now. Now, even though we’ve said it a thousand times, I’ll say it again: You can’t expect a PWC to kick up as gnarly a wake as a professional ski boat. That being said (again), the Aquatrax did a fantastic job of pulling me up and out of the water, and created a modest wake capable of practicing my boardslides getting used to the loose, surfy feel of the new Transcend board.

From the air I did catch, the Transcend board and Answer bindings performed flawlessly, providing great pop off the wake and nice smooth landings. Awesome. The loose feel of the board was appreciated when I came down a little off-center in a couple of landings. Instead of the fins tracking straight and ripping the board in the direction it was pointed, the looser feel of the Transcend was very smooth and forgiving and allowed me to dig in and regain control. Plus, the Answer boots were just about the most amazing sport-specific footwear I’ve ever worn – it was like good sex for my feet.

By now, we had been joined by two more cronies: Brian and Dave. For the long trip north, we packed our tunnel-hulled powerboat full of supplies (namely, beer) and crammed Uncle Mark, Rob Lobster and Dave into the cockpit along with Joe, who would pilot the 70-mph Commander all the way upriver. Meanwhile, the PWC crew readied for a long – possibly turbulent – ride north: Jim, with his Ultra 250X; Brian on a Yamaha GP1200R; Jack aboard his Sea-Doo GTX; I decided to haul some ass on the Aquatrax and test its fuel efficiency (which had previously been called into question after I had to fill up for a second time in two days).

(Above: Another beautiful and peaceful Lake Havasu sunrise.)

(Below: It's like Wild Hogs, but more like Wild Carps.)

Lumbering away from our campsite, I felt like I was part of a flight of P-51 Mustangs escorting a B-17 Flying Fortress. The Commander Cat took its time mustering the speed to plane out (tunnel-hulls don’t plane so well with a belly full of brews, two full gas tanks,  and four full-grown dudes), but once she did, she cranked up to a 60-mph cruising pace in mere seconds. We on the watercraft kept up a loose formation, taking time to gingerly weave in and out of the contoured banks and otherwise save our energy for the hour-long ride ahead of us. Rounding the Crazy Horse Campground, site of the annual Mark Hahn Memorial 300 endurance race and renowned IJSBA World Finals, the wind was still. I reflected on the water’s glassy surface and instantly traveled back in time to this year’s Mark Hahn race in February, where gale-force winds and angry, ocean-like water conditions swallowed Jet Skis and tested the will of everyone racing the six-hour endurance event. What a difference.

We cruised through the large open body of water north of London Bridge and into the Lake Havasu National Wildlife Refuge, keeping up a steady 45mph pace. No skiing, camping or fishing is allowed on this part of the lake, the preserve spanning 30 miles (and approximately 300 miles worth of shoreline) north all the way to Needles. Once again riding in a formation of sorts, we cruised through the shallow river section – dodging the reeds protruding from the sandy bottom – and I was blown away at the water’s resemblance to the crystal blue waters off the Florida coast. The light-colored sand in this part of the river, coupled with clear blue skies and clean clear water, produced a translucent bluish-green hue in the glass. Soon, the rolling hills and sand dunes gave way to enveloping red rock cliffs.

(Above: Heading through the narrows, just north of the Sandbar, is awe-inspiring.)

After passing “The Sandbar,” an aptly named mound of sand known for the wild parties that take place on its surface during holiday weekends (or, used to take place, before the antics were nixed by authorities), things took a turn for the marvelous. The canyon walls sprouted abruptly from the emerald green water as we lazily wandered up the snaking ribbons of the Colorado River. The water was noticeably cooler up here, but not so much that we’d complain about it dousing our skin in the near-100-degree heat. Also, a slight current can be detected up here, as the Colorado River feeds the 648,000 acre feet of Lake Havasu, where it will wait to be pumped into two aquaducts and sent elsewhere.

Arriving at Topock Gorge Marina, we were all definitely ready for a drink and some shade. The wind had chapped our faces and left us with dry, thirsty mouths -- for which the only cure was White Russians and Coors Light. While the White Russians weren’t as strong as we would’ve liked, and the beer wasn’t was cold as we would’ve preferred, the food was decent and the ensuing bull session kept us ribbing each other and laughing until we were all completely sobered up and it was time to top-off the boats and head back out.

(Above: Topock Gorge Marina. Not much to look at, but it'll do. Note the almost-full gas gauge after a 40-mile ride. Booya!)

The Honda’s fuel level had only dropped two bars on the ride up, which was pretty impressive. The second bar had disappeared only moments after hitting the No Wake zone for the marina. On the way back downriver, I was less reserved with my throttle finger, and went through a good part of Topock Gorge at WOT, racing my dad’s Commander and otherwise ringing out the Honda’s turbocharged 1.5L engine. The wind started picking up. By the time we exited the Lake Havasu Natural Wildlife Refuge at the north end of the lake, the winds had picked up and produced some nasty conditions. There were rollers and white caps, cross wakes and brutal chop – just what I needed to open up and stretch my legs a little. It’s funny, after completing something as brutal as the 2009 Mark Hahn race, I actually enjoy challenging myself in less-than-perfect circumstances on occasion.

(Above: Pit stop at Moabi Regional Park. Dave and Joe (seated) shoot the breeze on the Commander Cat, while Rob, Mark, Jack and Jim look off in the distance -- probably at some babe on a passing boat.)

However, upon exiting the refuge and cracking open the throttle, I felt something hit me. No, it was not a powerful epiphany about the duality of human nature or the impact of globalization on world markets. More like a small pebble whacking my chest at high velocity. This was no cause for alarm, as getting hit by insects on this part of the river is nothing exceptionally rare. But then, a couple seconds later, I felt a white-hot needle prick of pain on the left side of my chest. I had been stung by a bee! Sunuvabitch! I paused momentarily to laugh at the poor bee getting trapped in my Jet Pilot A-10 life vest, flicked out the stinger, and clamped down the throttle to begin my jaunt across the angry lake.

While Jack and Brian struggled to keep from being knocked silly in the nasty chop on their Sea-Doo and Yamaha, Jim and I sped at near top speed on our Ultra 250X and Aquatrax F-15X. He could pull me at full speed, but just barely; the Honda put up a damned good fight. We booked it all the way to a sheltered cove on the west side of Crazy Horse to wait for the other two riders, while Joe sped by in the Commander at full throttle, flaunting the Cat’s stellar rough water driveability. The boat simply danced across the wakes like a cat dancing across a hot stove, barely skipping across the water, supported by a cushion of air.

For the remainder of the trip back to camp, the Honda was ridden hard and I turned-and-burned through most of the fuel left over from the ride up (with exception to the two gallons I put in at the Topock Marina). Pulling onto shore back at camp, she still had two bars left on the fuel gauge. Naysayers be damned, the Honda just rode over 80 miles – half of those in rough, windblown conditions – and still had some fuel to spare. I spent the rest of the daylight hours running a homemade buoy course with the 260LX, honing my skills and getting drenched in perfect, 77-degree lake water as the sun burned into the horizon at my back.

(Above: Another magnificent sunset. Could you really pack up and leave after experiencing this slice of heaven?)

Packing up around 4 pm on my final day in Lake Havasu, I realized I had burned through three tanks of gas in each runabout – and I had the blisters to prove it. The 260LX had swayed the group’s initial opinion of being a knockoff of a Yamaha FX Cruiser, and made believers out of everyone who felt the pleasure of riding the untamed beast at almost 68 mph across the lake. It still is about as frugal with gas as Paris Hilton is with a new credit card, but it hauls more ace than… well I don’t know what, but it definitely hauls some ace – which is just what Kawasaki wanted. And I’ll be damned if it’s not one of the most beautiful PWC ever made. The Honda, which initially carried the tough stigma of being a horrible rough water craft (held over from the older F-12’s notoriously rough riding hull), had completely changed everyone’s opinion. When polled at the end of the trip, almost all its riders had fallen in love with its predictable, sensible, reliable nature and potent new engine – just what Honda wanted. Both were winners, and both made this annual outing just that much more memorable. Enjoying a Monster Energy drink on the long road home from the Grand Canyon Sate, I couldn’t help but ponder what wild adventure (and cool new watercraft) next year’s trip could bring.

(Above: Please. Someone help associate editor Justin Stannard kick his Monster addiction, before it's too late.)

And here you go: Another GoPro clip from Personal Watercraft Illustrated: