Priest Lake

The Initial Cruise
Dad bought a "get away" lot on Priest Lake, Idaho, and probably then told Mom how much fun this camping spot was going to be for all of us. Mom was a good sport for most ventures Dad was up to, so off we went to see the new lot.
The 5 of us , Mom, Dad, myself, Nancy and Marianne, the baby, piled in the Plymouth one fine Spring day, heading for the wilds of Idaho. Of course, Dad knew a short cut- after our stop for lunch at Dhiarea Dolly's-( named after the fact and the truth!) We headed up a one-car-wide dirt mountain road, bumps and all, one side mountain, one side wide open canyon. We rounded a curve after several miles, and ran right into a 5' high snowbank! No one told the Idaho mountains it was Spring. There was no place to turn around, so Dad started backing down the mile or more to a wide enough spot to turn around. A few minutes was all it took for Mom to holler "stop"!  With a comment that "Merritt, you're going to kill us all"- we hiked behind Dad and the car, Marianne in Mom's arms, Nancy holding one hand, and me holding her coat tail.
After a turn around and another long ride, we finally made it to the Grandview Motel on beautiful Priest Lake, and got a room for the night. All of us. Long night!
Morning light barely peaked over the lake, wind blowing and gray skies, and Dad loaded us into a rented kicker boat, headed again for our little piece of Heaven, according to Dad. Now Priest Lake is huge, and near  as I could tell, there was no way to tell one lot from another. But our intrepid father never let the facts get in the way of his idea of fun. The farther we got out to the middle of the lake, the harder the wind blew. White caps everywhere and water on our feet in the leaking boat. Nancy and I, all of 5 and 9, were handed empty coffee cans and were told " Bail girls, bail! Merritt Johnson, you're going to kill us all!" It was a long voyage, Anne a baby, crying, Nancy and I and Mom sure we were going to drown, and Dad grinning from ear to ear saying "Isn't this fun?!"

The Fun Stuff!
We spent many years enjoying Priest Lake- the clear clean water, the beautiful forrest, hours of swimming. First Dad built a "kitchen"- a long board between trees to hold the camp stove and the dishpan. Water was hauled from the lake to drink, wash dishes, and for Mom to wash diapers. ( Did I say what a good sport Mom was?!) Next my father, the king of napping, built a love seat out of logs  to snooze on. He could take a nap there, going to sleep on command, Army training no doubt, but it was so uncomfortable the rest of us sat on stumps and rocks!  The crowning building project was the bunk house.  (After the outhouse, of course). It was big enough go a double bed, built of logs, and lumber and one crib, hauled in by boat. Nancy and I spent one soaking wet 4th of July laying in an old Army pup tent kicking each other while Mom and Dad and baby Anne did whatever they did in the bunkhouse- we were not let in despite the rain and the reading and re- reading many times our one comic book. At the time, I thought they were just mean- but maybe thee was a little "afternoon delight" going on in there!
I did truly love our times at Priest- I spent many happy hours building rafts and navigating up and down our cove, and I still puff up with pride when I remember my first swim-in to our lot, while the rest of the family went on ahead by boat. We picked and ate a lot of huckleberries, watching for bears all the time. ( I never saw one!) Nancy love to fish and visit with our neighbors, the Hughes. Mr. Hughes, Mike, was a gruff speaking man who enjoyed Nancy's company. (The Hughes had a real cabin, which we never had while we owned the lot.) I took my first boyfriend one family camping weekend, where Dad embarrassed him by asking him to chop wood for the fire and he didn't know how.Dad was not impressed!
Mom was the good sport who cleaned up the baby Anne, as she crawled in the dirt, washed her  diapers in a bucket of cold lake water, and made meals while killing ants and swatting mosquitos.All this while packing in and out all the things we used by boat. And she smiled!  Dad loved being outdoors, and in a place with no phone and no clients. No Farmer Brown could call with a problem, no will had to be drawn up, no divorces taken care of. He fished to his heart's content, built with logs using his skills learned and enjoyed as an Eagle Scout, and snored loud enough while napping smooshed on his love seat to keep away any critters!
Priest Lake was a wonderful part of my growing up-an idyllic spot where I was free to read as long as I wanted, swim until I turned blue, and eat s'mores until I was sticky. Our family was there alone-together. At home we all went our separate ways, but at Priest Lake we had each other, the water, the campfires. That's where I first found the Big Dipper, the Little Dipper, and Dad tried to teach us the other constellations. It was a wonderful magical place.
I've gone back to Priest Lake once, and it's still beautiful there. The water's still clear, the stars are still unbelievably bright- but the family I love, the ones I grew up with weren't there. The me that was- was no more. The memories are still fresh and strong. So Priest Lake, thank you. A wonderful young and fresh world, like no other place or time. What a memory!