Recently, I went camping with my son and his family. We all drove to Clinton Lake (about an hour away). My son towed his camper, his wife towed their boat, and I towed my 5th wheel. We had a caravan of sorts.
During our trip, we spent a lot of time on the lake with my son’s boat. His daughter learned to water ski. The water was warm because it was made to cool the Clinton Nuclear Power Plant. September water temps can get up to about 85 degrees. October, 75 degrees.
I wanted to water ski as well. I tried using the junior skis bought for her. They were the only skis we had. Unfortunately, they were to handle under 120 pounds. I am a hundred pounds OVER that weight, and when I tried to stand up-too soon, I pulled my ham string, causing me to limp around for about 10 days. I had to be pulled back on the boat.
However, it was still a wonderful trip. I especially, was transported back to my childhood, of camping and skiing. Dad had a pop-up camper and a boat. While we visited many different campgrounds for weekends, we always spent lot of summertime camping at Petenwell Flowage, now called Petenwell Lake. This is the second largest lake in Wisconsin, at about 23,000 acres of water.
My dad would tow the camper with a station wagon, and as soon as I got my license, I would tow the boat with our Ford Maverick, instead of Mom driving. We were a caravan of two, but we always met up with others there, for our “circle of campers” group. There are many teenage memories from that lake. Every year we would go there for summer camping. Dad, and either my brother or I, went back home during the week for work.
Dad loved fishing. I loved water skiing. We both had our fill. Our camper was backed up next to the lake, and we beached the boat right below it. Fishing from the boat every morning, and skiing the rest of the day. Walleyes for breakfast and dinner every day. We logged hours, not minutes on Petenwell Flowage.
Our camper was a Palomino pop-up. One can see the lake behind my brother. I believe the picture was from 1972.
Not sure what our boat was, some fourteen-foot runabout from the ’60s, with a 40 horse Johnson outboard. It was once a police-use boat on the Chain O’Lakes but there had been an accident (illegal or unapproved perhaps), and rumor was that it should be sold quickly and discreetly. My dad was in the right place at the right time (suspect it probably drinking in a bar with Lake Villa connections, and he bought the boat over beers). In any event, Dad came home one day with the boat behind his car.
The red and white fiberglass boat had a covered bow, and chromed horn, siren, and spotlight, along with a big hood ornament with green and red light signals. It could have been a DUO, a Sears, or perhaps an Owens, but there was a slight flair on the sides as it moved to the back, almost like a fin. I have not seen the exact boat in my searchings.
We ran that boat locally everywhere, but early years mainly on Deep Lake and Loon Lake because Dad had friends with bars on those lakes. Also, with the undisclosed reason of the boat accident, he never took it on the Chain. After Dad passed away, I took that boat many times on Lake Michigan. (I know…only a fourteen-foot boat, but we just lived one mile from the lake and a lone county boat ramp.)
I only have one partial picture of the boat. It was a PM (Pre-Marylyn) or BW (Before Wife) photo. Either way, you can see in the picture, along with my high school girlfriend, how the side of the boat rail slopes up-I still want to re-discover the name of the boat.
That picture was taken on Lake Michigan. One gets up quickly waterskiing in that cold water, and one does not like to fall back in. And, after going out a half mile or so in lake Michigan, you encounter great wave swells. Hit them right, and you are five or more feet in the air! I loved wave jumping on skis.
In ’77, I found the love of my life working at J.C Penney’s. We both were employed there. After a few dates, I discovered she lived on Crooked Lake. Her mother helped me by arranging to dock my boat there, since I was dating her daughter. She told the organization that it was her boat. I spent several summers at that lake sharing O’Brien skis with the Edwards family. Everyone were skiers.
While I have shared stories, and few old pictures, this is a blog about books. And of course, I have a book or two. The first is “The Golden Age of Water-Skiing” by Kevin Desmond, 2001. This great cover photo is a couple giving the “Skiing Salute”, each holding a ski in the air.
In the book are stories of famous skiers, and trend setters. There is the whole history of water skiing-beginning with water walkers, floating on wooden planks. The author also discusses some famous skiing shows and events, like Cypress Gardens, and the Tommy Bartlett Water-Skiing Show. Not only did I love personally water skiing, but also several times Dad took our pop-up near Lake Delton at Wisconsin Dells. Tommy Barlett shows there were always attended.
And that brings me to a prize book from the library. It is a beautiful hardbound copy with the original dust jacket of “Tommy Bartlett’s Guide to Water Skiing” by Tommy Bartlett, published in May of 1959.
That girl on the cover had the same type of life jacket that I grew up skiing with. It was just a foam band that went around the waist. I learned a lot of tricks and performance tips from this book. It discussed skis, boat types, and how to maneuver in lakes safely, as well as jumping, slalom skiing, and other competing promotions.
Our boat was a good size for most skiing. It could pull two skiers, if both were using two skis. One good slalom skier though, could cut sharply enough to put a drag on the engine. Tommy Barlett recommended that if pulling two skiers, they should have the same length rope. We always had one about five feet shorter, and the person with the shorter rope was in charge of instigating the switch across. Back at Pettenwell Flowage, one of our campmates and I would have the boat driven by the swimming beach, and we would zip back and forth, trying to impress the girls sunning.
Tommy Barlett’s book reminded boat drivers that 18 to 23 MPH was the optimum speed for most skiing. A few years after college, with the boat sold, I relied on friends with water toys. Water skiing went to the side of the road (or side of the beach), and Jet Skis were popular…and faster. I had a friend with several such Jet Skis. We used them a lot on the Chain (Chain O’Lakes).
One day, I received a call from this friend, that he had another friend with a racing Jet Ski just bought, and would I like to try it. We were on the water in about 25 minutes: the three of us, a boat, and the Jet Ski. One person would suit up in a life jacket, and take out the Jet Ski. The other two would wait in boat. This machine had a gauge that marked the maximum speed. The two other guys had top speeds of 68 mph and 69 mph.
Thinking I could beat those speeds, I jumped on and drove off to a smooth part of the lake. Boy, was that Jet Ski quick! It went faster than I should be going, faster than anyone should be going. At those high speeds, one could not read the speedometer, as it was shaking so much. You would be shaking as well, also being pulled back, holding on the steering handlebar. You would wait until you slowed back down and then read maximum speed. I just went for broke (poor choice of words). Speed skimming on the water, I hit the wake of passing boat. As the Jet Ski went up in the air, I felt I was losing control, so I let go of the handles. The Jet Ski came back down, the engine killed, and as I flew back, my right foot kicked the steering. At 65 MPH, who knew what would happen?
I remember hitting the water, and dizzily bobbing back up the surface-with a THROBBING foot. I dog-paddled back to the Jet Ski, and pulled myself back on it. I looked down to my right foot, and saw my big toe, sticking out at a right angle to the other toes. My water shoe had been knocked off. The toe was broke, or at least out of joint. I took an immense deep breath, and pulled the toe further out, and then let go. It snapped back into place. Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face (but I told myself I was not crying).
The boat, who’s wake I had hit, pulled over near to me, and the captain asked if I was OK. I mumbled that I was. He said “Wow. You did 2 and 1/2 cartwheels before you hit the water. That was crazy.” He then roared away. I started up the Jet Ski, circled around to find my floating water shoe, and gingerly put it back on, then drove back to the boat, with my friends waiting.
I sadly told them that I had only gone 65 MPH, and climbed back into the boat. I grabbed a cold beer, not to drink but to rest on my still throbbing big toe. I did not want to tell them that I had gotten in an accident (the owner of the boat was not well known to me, and I did not want him think to think I was a liability that may sue). They had not seen me cartwheel in the air. I passed on my next few turns to go back out, finally saying it was time to head home.
Eventually, I did make my way to the hospital. The bone between the first and second knuckle of the right big toe, was broken into four parts. The Doctor asked me who set the bone because it was done well, considering the extensive break. When I told him that I did-while bobbing on a Jet Ski, he laughed, but added that he was also impressed, because it must have hurt. I reminded myself again that I hadn’t cried, even with those streaming tears.
An accident on a Jet Ski, and a more recent accident on water skis. Why am I still considering buying new adult skis for my son for Christmas? Do I really think that I will be skiing next summer?
I just might. Alexander Pope said, “Hope springs eternal”. And of course, there was that Little Engine puffing, “I think I can, I think I can.”
Thanks for reading.
Librarytomes 