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LIFE JUST WOULDN'T BE THE SAME WITHOUT IT

I think I was around 10 years old. Give or take a few years. Too old to remember now and my only source of information from my childhood is gone. We were going to a place called Priest Lake...a new adventure. I can't recall who all went. I'm thinking me, Murray, mom, and I think the whole Arthur clan....maybe Kay and Scott and Steve.....anyway.....it was a long time ago... a different time, when things seemed simpler. It took forever to get there, actually only 5 hours or so, but when an 10 year old kid is on an adventure, it may as well been a lifetime. We made the turn into Elkins Resort and pulled into the past. Old log cabins, trees as tall as the sky, dirt roads, and nice people. I was too young then to notice the beauty of the water and the surrounding mountains. Didn't care at the time how many millions of years it took to grow into the paradise.....my heaven. We played in the water, we ran through the woods, we rode around on the logs that would one day become the swimming docks. We hung out in the "game room." Old pinball machines and a jukebox that played all of the songs from our youth. "The Night Chicago died" by Paper Lace. "Billy don't be a Hero" by....Bo Donaldson and the Heywoods(?) I think. "Witchy Woman" by the Eagles. Those songs that when we hear them today, take us back to that time. I met my first girlfriend there and drank my first beer. I met a girl who I thought I was in love with and would be forever, writing love letters back and forth, and even though I see her and her family once a year, I still consider a good friend. I swam the mile across the lake, starting a family tradition.

I took Kami there and she too fell in love with the place. For a long time it was just us, Kami, mom and me. Then Meagan, then Marisa, then Kyle. Murray moved away, yet every few years, the lake calls out to him and he shows up with his son , Ben.

Now a new generation travels the 200 some miles once a year to the place that my Grandma and Grandpa starting going to in the 50's. My cousins and their kids. People I only see once a year usually....at the lake. The place that beckons us. The place that we always go to even though there is a whole world out there we would love to see. The place we go "to soothe our soul." The times are different, more confusing. The people are different, more selfish. But the lake is, and always will be the same. Not physically, but mentally. It's the place we go once a year to relive the memories from our youth, and the place we go to make memories for our future. I suppose I will always go. Life just wouldn't be the same without it.

Darren Shoemaker

Good ol' Outlet Resort

I remember when at Priest Lake we spent lazy summer days, tanning on the docks, frog hunting, gazing up at the stars while laying on our backs, hiking, camping, swimming, all things and more that we used to do while residing at The good ol’ Outlet Resort.  The old red pumper truck, that when left unattended would overflow. Sitting on a large rock that was split in two from a day & time when lightning struck. Often times we could smell the stench of skunk lurking nearby while running between trailers in the dark.

I babysat for The Carper Family, along with other families during the summers as a means to have spending money or to buy school clothes. The Carpers trailer was closest to the boat shed. I listened to 8-track tapes of Roger Whittaker many a time. I was world champion playing solitaire! And with rabbit ear antenna I could get some reception to watch TV sometimes. One night in particular I watched The Shining, fell asleep & when I woke I left the kids, ran across the field back home, & crawled into bed. The parents were fetched & all was well. And to think I now have 5 kids of my own now! (Side note: I don’t watch scary movies)

Back in the 70’s the only fear while walking the dogs back out on the trails in the woods, or on the old log roads was running  into a bear. Only once did see a bear crossingLake-shore road while walking the dogs, but thank goodness the dogs didn’t see the bear and the bear didn’t see us. I did an about face and went back home.

We rode little 90cc & 100cc motorcycles through the trails, while wearing shorts, and once in awhile flip flops. Berdadish Rd. had the most awesome kelly humps. If there were two of us riding on one bike the person on the back would hang on tight, hoping not to fly off while hitting potholes. Gas was inexpensive back then and it didn't take much to fill up the little tank as we would do at The Outlet, then be back out for a few more hours worth of fun.

The Outlet Resort was a much different place during the summers I spent there. As kids we were allowed to sit in the bar, to play pool at the pool tables. Even when I was 21, with my oldest son who was then six months (now 22 & in The Army) I brought him into the bar with me, sat at the table, had a drink & handed him a lime that he gnawed on while the rest of us & a bar filled with people went about visiting having a few drinks. We would walk into the Outlet store from the beach or the docks to buy more suntan lotion, or ice cream bars while in our bathing suits. Our mail was mixed in with everybody else’s at The Outlet too. We would go in and sift through the pile of mail to see if a friend from back home had written a letter.

One day each weekend a few of us girls from The Outlet would hike the Wood Rat Trail to Hill’s Resort to clean the cabins & chalets after the guests were gone from their fun weekend at the lake. We were supposed to be 12 for this job, but I wasn’t. My 12th birthday was at the end of summer so I was close to being legal.  I think I had my first beer (age 14, which wasn’t legal) while at Hill’s Resort during the outdoor movie night. Anybody recall Near Beer? I’m more of a wine gal these days.

We camped out underneath the stars up at Shoe Tree camp. The next morning we smelled like campfire smoke and would jump into the freezing cold creek, making it a contest to see who would stay in the water the longest, better yet seeing who would be brave enough to submerse their body & head underneath the freezing cold water.

On a clear day Sundance Mountain rendered some of the most beautiful views of the lake.  Getting up the mountain in what I believe was a 72 Ford truck (3spd on the column), with a group of us kids piled into the back of the truck on an old dirt road was nearly unbearable for somebody who gets motion sick. Once up to the top of the mountain, then climbing up to see the most spectacular view from the lookout tower was beyond amazing! 

We had an old aluminum boat that we would hop into once in awhile and head over to Coolin to the Old Leonard Paul store to buy the .10 hard candy sticks that taste like root beer, sour apple, cherry, etc…to make a goody bag from a brown bag for the summer birthday person’s gift, along with maybe a PL t-shirt. One day I thought a friend and I (she shall go unnamed) should take the little boat out for a spin that had the outboard engine c-clamped to some very soft wood that was on the back of the boat. While spinning circles for the fun of it one of the pieces of wood had apparently rotted through, leaving only one side of the motor clinging to the back of the boat. The throttle was stuck since the engine was tilted sideways & we continued spinning circles. My friend, a little calmer than myself, sat hanging onto both sides of the boat, eyes wide open. Mind you, she was somewhat of a straight A student, who was hanging out with somebody like me who was somewhat of a thrill seeker. Poor girl had no idea what we were in for. I screamed loudly as we spun in circles, many campers from the Outlet campground gathered at the shoreline to see what all the hoopla was about. Eventually I was able to kill the motor. We rowed the boat back, tied it to the dock, & walked away shaking…never to tell a sole. She recently reminded me of this little adventure.

The group of kids from The Outlet had plenty of bonfires on clear starry nights, while talking for hours on end. We would gather wood from the forest floor, twigs, & as we got older…lighter fluid. Each would venture out and about to find the perfect stick to roast their mallow on. One year I specifically recall somebody flinging their marshmallow from their stick, attempting to salvage their golden brown marshmallow. Fail. The unfortunate victim across from the fire ended up with the marshmallow all on the side of his face. He survived without anything other than a mild singe on his cheek since he jumped up, flung the mallow from his face quite swiftly, then iced it afterward.

These were the good ol’ days at The Outlet Resort.

Gina
Posted January 3, 2010

".. no runnin'on the dock!"

"I remember when at Priest Lake ..... " Mona Bishop would sit out front of Bishop’s Marina with her hands on her knees wearing a straw hat with a flowered hat band.

The Tyee and the Ridley were moored at Bishop’s Marina then and if you dared, you could climb up on them. I can still hear Mona yelling, “Get off that boat!” Just after you entered the marina, there was a ramp down to the floating dock where the slips were. When you ran down that ramp it would bounce like trampoline, but if you did, you’d hear Mona yell, “No runnin’ on the dock!” She was a great gal and Russ was a great guy. I think of them still whenever I visit Coolin.

Jim
Posted in 2009

Dugout canoe at Hess' Point

I remember when Jim and Jean McBurney and I discovered the dugout canoe at Hess's Point described in the article by my mother in this same web page. At first  it seemed to be just a log, but we recognized that it had been worked on, and was hollowed out. I think it is more likely to have been 1938 or 39. Jim Ted McBurney didn't start coming out from Chicago to spend the summers until after 1937, as I remember it. But he did verify for us the approximate date when it had been made and used. I also remember watching the Tyee II being built by "Cap'n" Markham in Coolin, on the beach next to what was then Art Moore's Boat Storage & docks, and the Coolin Inn restaurant. I tried to get down to Coolin as often as I could from our cabin facing 4 Mile Island. I was fascinated by it and once I walked all of the way from our cabin along the shore in order to see it. Priest Lake has always been a special place for me. After I was ordained an Episcopal Priest, and took my vows in the Society of Saint John the Evangelist, and could only spend a few days, up to 1 or 2 weeks at the Lake, it took on a spiritual meaning for me, especially looking up the lake at the high mountains near the head of the lake. A few years ago (perhaps about 25) I was making a retreat at the Jesuit Retreat House in Gloucester, MA, and found a biography of Fr. Pierre DeSmet, SJ, who is said to have discovered Priest Lake, which he named for his Superior General, also a classmate, Fr. Roothaan. People found the name hard to pronounce, so they said, "It's named after some priest", and that is what it was then called. In that biography Fr. DeSmet was quoted as saying what a spiritual place the lake seemed to him, and that the Indians whom he met confirmed that by saying that it was a very spiritual place for them. I have many more memories, but this is enough for now.

David Allen, SSJE
Posted in 2009

The "gone" Priest Lake Cafe

"I remember when at Priest Lake "..... Living at the now gone Priest Lake Cafe and being snowed in in the winter and walking the 200 yards to Ward and Millie's and there not being another person there but the 3 of us. Millie in her house coat and Ward with that smelly old cigar. He would invite me to the back where they lived, and we would watch "The Untouchables" TV series in black and white. He had a store full of information as to what really happened "for real" and would explain to me what was right and what wasn't concerning what we were watching. Many is the time as a teenager I would carry brown paper bags full of groceries to struggling families that had found their way from Priest River to Priest Lake in the back of Ward's station wagon. No one was to know where the food came from but they all were aware of who was 'Santa'. I remember when at Priest Lake the dance hall for teenagers that we built on the side of the Priest Lake Cafe. During the summer it was difficult to find space to dance to the 45's that everyone would bring. What a wonderful life altering space and time was my stay at Priest.

D. Burns
posted in 2009

At The Blake's cabin

I remember when at Priest Lake..  I would spend weeks in the summers of the mid to late 50's at the Blake's cabin (on Hunts Creek at its outlet) and it was said that the cabin was the 3rd oldest cabin on the lake. The Blakes were my Aunt Shirley's parents. There was no electricity and no refrigeration. They used the creek as the fridge; burlap bags tied to a limb and submerged in the creek held anything that needed refrigeration. I remember waking up between the flannel sheets to the smell of the wood cook stove cooking bacon and huckleberry pancakes. I remember Uncle Carl tapping on my bedroom window and holding up the huge silver he had caught early that morning. I remember Stell Blake running out the back door, grabbing the broom on her way, and chasing a bothersome black bear right up the tree ! Then she'd pry a piece of pitch off the side of the tree and chew it like we would chew gum ! I remember learning to swim there---but stay away from the outlet of the creek--it was so cold ! I remember we would all travel in their old metal boat (looked like the African Queen, but on a smaller scale) across the lake on Saturday nights to the Linger Longer Lodge for a fancy dinner. I remember the painting of the old French trapper that hung over the cabins huge fireplace. That trapper's face scared me so much that I was afraid to look at the bedroom window when they would send me to bed for the night. My wonderful childhood memories of Priest Lake are so very special. But now its at Hills Resort or my good friend Al's that I continue to enjoy my passion --------- Priest, upper Priest, and all of its peace and beauty.

Rob McDougall
2009

It touches us spiritually

I remember when my wife and I made our first visit to Priest Lake. Our history with the lake is short compared to most of you. We enjoy a rather convoluted connection to the lake - as my wife's sister's husband's family (confused yet) have had a cabin on the east side, at the narrows, since the 40s or 50s.

Immediate family members each get a week during "the season" to enjoy the cabin. So by luck of marrying well (I love you honey), we were lucky enough to be invited to the cabin during my wife's sister's week - starting about 1992. With our first glimpse of Priest Lake, my wife and I became converts to a new religion. After a couple years of those few precious days at "the cabin", we needed more.

We bought used touring kayaks and spent a week camping on Kalispell Island. The experience was indescribably life changing and we have not been able to quench our thirst for the beauty of the lake since. The years since have been kind to us - we still have those yellow and blue plastic kayaks and you can find us paddling for miles north and south of the narrows on any given summer day. We also have a pontoon boat now and are blessed to have a slip at Granite Creek - which we are privileged to call our home base.b

Being 60ish we cherish every moment we are there and are saddened by those who abuse it or take it for granted. Priest Lake has enhanced our lives beyond words and with each visit we discover a peace and tranquility found nowhere else. My wife and I are water people - we are drawn to it - it touches us spiritually - and some day our ashes will be scattered upon it.

Gerry & Valori Steinauer
2009

Mary

I was 13 years old, and lucky enough to spend two weeks at Reeder Bay in July. There were lots of kids there, my age, younger, and older. One of them was Mary (not her real name, but it'll do), who was 16 years old and absolutely lovely.

At 13, I was emerging from the fog of childhood just in time to be thrust into the wilderness of puberty and desire ... and Mary, oh my. Mary. I've follwed Mary's life. Her parents divorced; she grew up, moved to Seattle, married, bore a child, divorced, took a lover at Priest Lake, left him, remained beautiful, suffered a mother's death ... But on that particular summer day, on that wide beach at Reeder Bay, Mary organized a game of tag in the water ... someone was "it" and had to tag someone else.

Mary was a superb swimmer --- she actually knew how to swim, how to make speed in the water. I was (and am) an unremarkable swimmer. Mary became "it" and searched around. I was near. She swam toward me, in waist deep water, in her blue and white bikini. Dear lord, I can still see her, slender, muscular; hips, curves, buxom, churning toward me. There was no hope of evading her with my swimming skills, and no desire to avoid her with my 13 year old mind awash in Desire.

I remember making a feeble attempt to evade her; felt her tag me. Then I leapt to tag her back --- although I could not swim well, I was young and strong and male and 13: I could leap. And I tagged her. Although she could outswim me, I probably was stronger. I tagged her, then bolted away. The water boiled, she swam after me. And tagged me. I leapt, and tagged her, leapt away. The water boiled as she swam after me and tagged me a third time. I leapt towards her, tagged her again ... touching her breast. I did not mean to. Could not take it back. Also, did not want to. I was 13, and powerful chemicals flooded me.

I was not familiar with their force of those things. There was a pause, the water settled. She looked at me, in a contemplative way. She swam away to find a less troublesome victim. In the evening I was on the beach again at Reeder Bay. She came walking down the beach, holding the hand of a ten year old boy. She was wearing warmer clothes, a grey sweatshirt which (to my eyes) did nothing at all to hide her beauty.

She wore sandals, short pants, which shouted to the world (I thought) the fact of her luxurious legs. She greeted the band of kids I was with, and then she continued strolling down the beach towards Elkins Resort, holding the hand of that boy. I would have liked to kill him, that I might substitute my hand for his, in hers.. Many years have passed.

Mary has had an interesting life, and I have had my own interesting life. I have married, I have a child, I have brought my family to Priest Lake many, many times. I have been to Priest Lake over a hundred times since that hot July day. Mary and I are not close. But Mary, as a young woman, gave me a day of magical desire, on the edge of becoming a man. I will remember that day when it is time for me to draw my last breath. I hope that my son will have a similar experience. He will be 13 in a three years.

Leofwyn Wolfssen

It was my pleasure to remember "when"...

I was two the first time we summered on Priest Lake at Indian Creek Diamond Match Camp. The following year we moved up the lake to a more remote camp named Camp Nine, just north of Canoe Point and before you reach Lion Head. My brother 4 and baby sister were the only kids in camp! The only way in at that point was by water (1951). My father was head of the logging for Diamond Match and in order that we could be with him, a cabin was set up for my family just over the small creek & foot bridge from the main camp. The mail boat arrived daily and supplies were brought in by barges that docked at the massive docks . Logs were boomed down the lake by tugs and the camp closed each winter once the ice froze over. We spent the next three summers there in that magical place swimming, picking berries, fishing and loving the sand. Our first summer there a logger brought a newly born fawn (whose mother had been killed) to my mom as she had an infant with a bottle. The fawn quickly became a pet of the camp and later the town of Coolin. This would have been 1951/52 – does anyone out there remember Fauleen? If so we were the kids in Camp nine who fed her with the baby bottle. I have faint memories of Steve’s, Bishops Marina, and Headquarters near Coolin. The family returned several years later – after being transferred to Montana. We returned by taking the Steelhead(name of the supply and mail boat) back into the camp and spent yet another wonder but too short of vacation here. Then one other trip was taken in by road – passable as it was. I have always wanted to return someday and take a tour of the lake again. Thank you for this site – it was my pleasure to remember when..

Carie (Mathison) Graham
Jan. 9, 2009

When I was twelve

I remember hiking up to the old buildings at the CCC camp on Horton Ridge in the mid 50's when I was 12. There were 3 of us, me, my cousin Fred (aka Fritz) and Billy from the cabin next door. I had a crush on Billy. Billy grew up to be a city manager and now has grandchildren, Fred worked for Boeing and has 2 sons, while I married briefly and became a wildlife biologist with the federal government. I remember Grandma cooking Pennsylvania Dutch food and all of us eating dinner on the screened porch talking or listening to waves lapping on the beach. She made apple dumplings (eaten with sweet milk) for dessert or, my favorite, "breakfast" cakes. These were labor intensive yeast coffee cakes covered with holes full of butter, brown sugar and cinnamon. We ate them for breakfast or dinner. Grandma cooked and baked on a wood stove. We used Coleman lanterns in the cabin after dark and me and some of my cousins still own Coleman-like lanterns even though we don't use them. There was no East Shore Rd until I was in 6th grade so we didn't have a phone or get mail. That came later with the road. My father stored an outboard at Bishop's Marina which I thought was a HUGE magical place, and we took the boat to the cabin loaded up with people and supplies. Leonard Paul was still running the store. We drank water from Horton Creek but it was no different than the water in the lake except colder. Staying at the lake in the 1950's with Grandma was like a dream and I am so lucky to have had the chance.

Sandra (Diehl) Bruce
2009