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| Camp Bovey, Solon Springs, Wisconsin |
My parents, Les and Kay (Catherine) Scheaffer, were married 80 years ago today. When I was growing up, the celebration of their wedding anniversary was always a family event. In 1952, we were in northern Wisconsin with my cousins, the Buck family, and decided to take a short road trip to celebrate the day. Here is my father's story about that memorable trip.
Celebration at Tea Lake
"How shall we celebrate Les and
Catherine's 13th wedding anniversary?" Betty directed her question to
husband Dave and to Catherine as they sipped their after-dinner coffee in front
of the lodge fireplace at Camp Bovey. Les, with the older kids--Jeff, Caroline,
and the two Steves-- was playing a game of Crazy Eights around one of the
dining tables. Dave spoke up in his bluff executive voice, "Tomorrow we'll
celebrate at Tea Lake!"
To clue us in, Betty explained that
Tea Lake was the place in northern Wisconsin where David worked as a teenager
helping to build log cabins for a writer friend of his family, a professor at
the University of Chicago. The card players had been listening, and the two
Buck boys shouted their approval. They had heard their dad brag about his Tea
Lake cabins for as long as they could remember, but they had never been there.
Jeff, looking at his cousins, Caroline and Steve, "You can ride with me in
the Buick convertible with the top down." No further persuasion was
needed.
The fourth and last camping group
had left Camp Bovey a week ago, returning to their homes in northeast
Minneapolis. The Scheaffer family was now on vacation enjoying the quiet of
Lake Metzger and the pine forest around the lake. Nothing is as quiet as a
children's camp after the final busload has left. Catherine's sister, Betty,
and family had driven up from Chicago in their new Buick to make it a
two-family vacation, totaling eleven people--sisters and spouses, seven
children, and a dog.
There was an air of excitement at
breakfast the next morning, not the usual leisurely meal, but a sense of
"no fooling around, let's get going." It was Tuesday, August 26th,
the day of the big expedition. The kids were cooperative, cleared the table and
helped do the dishes while the mothers made a lunch and fixed a bottle for baby
Betty who was 4-1/2 months old. By 9:30 we all piled into the two cars. David
and I and the four "big kids," ages 8, 5, 4, and 3, had the privilege
of riding in the classy Buick. The two sisters, Catherine and Betty Anne, with
Tom, age 2 and baby Betty, plus Spottie, the dog, rode in the 1950 double ended
Studebaker-- double ended because people said you couldn't tell the front from
the rear.
Five miles of sand road took us to
the black top running east. David decided that we better put gas in the Buick.
Eight miles down the black top we pulled into a country gas station. The Studie
didn't need gas and the mothers weren't too pleased about this stop. We heard
them muttering to each other, "Isn't this just like men--as soon as the
babies get to sleep they think of a reason to stop--and the babies wake
up!" Catherine, who hadn't turned off the motor, pulled up next to David
and said, "We're going on. You can catch us. We'll see you for lunch."
There was a bit of an edge to her voice.
We didn't exactly know how to get to
Tea Lake except that it was somewhere close to Mellon, Wisconsin. However, each
car was armed with a Douglas County map and vague directions out of David's
memory. He thought that Tea Lake was close to the county line--though he wasn't
sure.
After two hours of driving, which
included probing into several deadend forest roads, it was obvious that David
was feeling his way. Not having caught up to the girls, we had to assume that
they had found a nice picnic spot and were waiting for us.
We had long since run off the edge
of the Douglas County map. Until now, it hadn't worried us that David was the
only one of our group who had ever been to Tea Lake. As we passed many little
lakes, I asked, "Dave, does any of this look familiar to you?" He
gave me a rather scornful look as though to say, "How can you have so
little faith in your leader?"
His reply, however, was "Not
yet--but relax, we'll find it soon."
Faithless and worried, I asked,
"What about the girls? I haven't seen the Studebaker." I got no
answer to this question as David slowed down to scan a little road, more like a
lane, leading into the woods. He put on the brakes and pulled over. Holding
onto the steering wheel, he stood up to get a better view. He was looking at an
opening in the forest, wheel tracks with grass in the middle, hardwood virgin
timber on each side: beech and walnut, maple and birch, a dark cool tunnel
snaking its way to the next curve and out of sight.
David grinned, backed up six feet
and made the turn into the road. He said nothing but we knew that he had found
the road into the Tea Lake camp. After three minutes of careful driving on this
twisting trail, its course dictated by massive tree trunks, we found ourselves
facing an opening with a small lake straight ahead and a log lodge on the west
shore.
We stopped, silently admired this
tea-colored lake with flecks of sunlight decorating the surface like a piece of
snow flake obsidian. David and I turned around to look at the kids who had been
so patient during this long search. It was afternoon and we hadn't eaten since
breakfast. David drove to the edge of the lake and broke the silence, saying,
"Let's eat. We're all starved."
* * *
Part II
To have found Tea Lake at all was
some sort of a miracle. Considering how we had probed and groped and stumbled
into the correct woods lane, how did we expect the girls in the other car to
find it? Nevertheless, David and I looked over the heads of the kids, back
toward the road, hoping to see the Studebaker emerge from the trees. No such
luck. Not a sound--not even any birds flitting in the branches. The kids were
less concerned, especially now that they had eaten the picnic lunch.
Jeffy Buck turned to his father and
asked, "Dad, where is that cabin you built when you were sixteen?"
David smiled, motioned us back into the car and drove around the end of the
lake. "Everybody out! Now we're going to see my log cabin." He led
the way to a log outhouse, a two holer. "There it is--and I built it all
by myself."
At that moment my five year old
Stephen let out a yell and a sob, holding the back of his hand as a yellow
jacket flew away. I rushed over to comfort him, but before I got there,
something like a hot iron struck me in the scrotum. I grabbed for my crotch and
then felt something crawling down my leg. A yellow jacket crept out and flew
away. We had stepped on a nest. David ordered all of us into the car.
"We're getting out of here!" he shouted. Before we got to the end of
the lake, I was retching with nausea. David slammed on the brakes. I jumped out
and threw up. Then I began to feel faint. We drove around the lake to the main
lodge.
A man came out, evidently the
caretaker. He and Dave half carried me into the building and onto a couch. In
this 80 degree weather I was cold and shaking like a car on two cylinders.
There was one quilt on the couch. They covered me, but I was still shaking
uncontrollably. They pulled a rug from the floor and put that over me.
I was fighting to stay conscious,
drifting in and out ... David was scared--the easy grin was not there--neither
was it time for bluffing. I could
imagine his thoughts-- As a former football player, college and pro, I've
seen people hurt-- concussions--don't let them fall asleep--make them hang onto
consciousness -- Tea Lake was my idea and now look-- now look -- Les is
fighting for his life -- where are the girls? Where are Catherine and Betty
Anne? What a wedding anniversary this turned out to be.
Caroline suggested hot tea. David
looked at her with doubt, not used to suggestions or orders from an eight year
old--but Les is her father--no harm in trying--Caroline had never seen a person
fighting for consciousness--her strong, healthy Dad--a hero laid low. I wanted
to reassure her and also to tell her that I don't like tea, but words wouldn't
come. I was lost in a haze.
David and the caretaker boiled
water, made some tea. I couldn't sit up to drink it. They propped me up, poured
some in my mouth. It dribbled down my chin and neck. I just wanted to give up
and sleep. Faces disappeared as a mist enveloped me.
. . . I was back at Camp Bovey on
the shore of Lake Metzger--I decided to look for that rod and reel I had lost
in twenty feet of water--I waded in, walked out with the water rising over my
mouth, my nose, now over my head--no problem breathing, not in this crystal
clear water--I had always claimed that you could drink straight out of this
lake -- fish swam by, black bass and crappies--some stopped, we smiled--no sign
of the fishing rod so I walked back in--David and Caroline were standing on the
shore waiting for me . . .
The rug was still covering me,
heavy. The haze was thinning. I was vaguely aware of eyes, pairs of eyes
focused on me, no nose, no mouths, like surgeons and nurses observing an
operation. The ceiling lights suddenly came on--operation over--I felt nausea
and diarrhea--said so--David helped me up, rushed me to the outhouse behind the
lodge. When I came out I knew that I had licked it, that I would survive.
We piled into the car and headed for
Camp Bovey, 90 miles to the west. We would find the girls there, worried sick
about their husbands and family. Long before we got there the sun had set, but
as it got dark a moon rose behind us.
We finally came to the sand road to
camp. As we turned into the Camp Bovey lane, David said, "We'll sure have
a story to tell the girls--hope they weren't too mad about our running off with
the lunch." But as the cabins and the lodge came into view--THERE WERE NO
LIGHTS IN CAMP! NO GIRLS! NO BABIES!
"Les, feed the kids! Put them
to bed! I'm going out to look for the girls!"
* * *
Part III
"The Girls' Story"
(As told by Catherine)
Our last words with the boys were
rather sharp. They went something like this:
". . . just when baby Betty got
to sleep, you had to stop, and now she's fussing . . . we're going ahead. . .
you can catch us . . . see you for lunch."
Then Betty and I drove east on the
black top road for about twenty five miles, constantly looking back, expecting
to see the boys catching up to us. Maybe we were driving too fast, but a big
Buick should be able to catch a little Studebaker with no trouble.
After driving for a half hour with
no sign of the boys and the kids in the Buick, we were a bit worried. David had
said something about a gravel road being at or near Tea Lake, so we were
looking for that too. It occurred to us before the day was out that David had
not been to Tea Lake since he was sixteen years old, and that roads may have
changed in that eighteen year interval.
Regardless of that logic, we saw a
wide gravel road going south, and we took it. We kept looking back, hoping to
see the Buick entering our cloud of dust--but no cars of any kind. After three
miles we came upon a sand road that dead-ended at our gravel road. There was a
rusty sign on a tree pointing east, which said "Auto and Truck
Sales--Mellon, Wisconsin." David
had told us that the Tea Lake people bought groceries in Mellon, so we decided
to turn on this road and go east again.
*We drove for less than a half mile
when we saw a small rut road going along a marsh and into a woods. It looked
like a road that would go to a lake--Tea Lake?
We turned in. Just before we got to
the woods, the road came to an abrupt end at a broken down bridge which once
crossed the little swampy creek. There was no going forward. To back up 200
yards to the sand road was more than I was willing to tackle. So I walked back
to find a spot where I might turn around. I found a place that looked possible,
sandy but hard. I stomped on it and jumped up and down. It felt firm enough to
me.
Back to the car, I reassured Betty,
told her to get out to reduce the weight and to guide me. In reverse for thirty
feet, I then swung the rear end out of the ruts onto the broad sandy spot. The
wheels began to spin and throw sand, the right rear wheel sinking deeper and
deeper. It was evident that we were badly stuck.
"What shall we do now?"
"Let's get some boards from
that old bridge."
We did that, but it didn't help.
They were thin and rotten and just broke into little pieces under the wheels.
"What shall we do now?"
"Let's wait for the boys or for
some other car to come along. "
Neither happened. It was going on
two o'clock, and we were suddenly aware that it was well past lunch time. It
occurred to us that the lunch and baby Betty's bottle of milk were in the
cooler in the Buick. Luckily we had a baby bottle of sterile water from which
even Tommy would take a sip or two before the afternoon was over. We also had
six graham crackers. As we got hotter and hungrier during the afternoon our
thoughts about "the big boys"--David and Les, were not too
charitable. We couldn't help but imagine them eating and enjoying the wonderful
lunch we girls had made for the Anniversary Picnic.
The happiest ones in our little lost
group were the two babies and Spottie. Tommy seemed to be content with graham
crackers and enjoyed digging in the sand, finding pretty stones. Baby Betty was
fine as long as there was still water in her bottle. Spottie raced around
exploring and resting in the shade, or coming up to be petted. He was not a
very big dog, but somehow he made us feel safe, our protector.
We walked out to the Mellon road and
waited. One hour--no cars! Then we walked to the gravel road where, some place
in the distance, came the sound of sawing and chopping, but no people, no
trucks, nor any logging road that we could see.
"Shall we follow the sound and
try to find the wood cutters?"
"No! No! We're lost enough as
it is!"
"O.K. Let's make a sign and a
barricade. If any car does come along they will have to stop.
So we scraped up a large pile of
gravel, carried some tree branches from the edge of the woods and then wondered
how we could make a sign that would get people's attention, Betty said,
"We can use one of the baby's receiving blankets for a big sign."
"A good idea! We can use my
lipstick to print the word HELP! Then we
should also leave a note."
In the ditch we found an empty
cigarette carton. We flattened it out and wrote -- "Two ladies with
babies--car stuck in old logging road--1/2 mile east--Please help!"
The afternoon was hot, no breeze,
and time passed slowly. We walked back to the car. Mosquitoes were flying out
of the marsh and biting all of us except Spottie. We got into the car and hoped
that help would come soon. We truly believed that we would be rescued. With the
car windows open a crack for ventilation we were kept busy killing mosquitoes.
Then about five o'clock we hard a
car, looked out the back window and saw a pickup truck coming toward us. A
young husky teen boy got out, looked at the car, then at us and said,
"I'll be damned. It's true! What are you doing back in here?"
"We were looking for Tea Lake.
Do you think you can get us out of the sand?"
"I'll try, but I don't have a
rope or chain."
He tried to lift and push us out but
we were stuck too deeply. He saw that we were disappointed and said,
"Don't worry. My dad can lift that Studebaker out single-handed. He's really
strong. He sent me out to get some food for supper. The men are going to work
till dark, maybe finish tonight."
"We heard some sawing and
chopping. Was that your lumber camp?"
"Yeah. My name is Johnny. We
better get in my truck and go get my dad. He's going to be mad that it took me
so long."
We all piled into his truck, the two
babies on our laps and Spottie in the back. We got down to the gravel road just
in time to meet Johnny's dad. He was mad!
"What the hell is this all
about? I sent you out to get food!"
Johnny jumped out and quickly told
his dad about our predicament--the stuck car and the hungry babies. He looked
at us and calmed down. A slight smile crept across his face.
"Let's get these babies fed
first. Follow me to The Corners. We'll take care of the stuck car when we get
back."
It wasn't far to The Corners. We
would have found it ourselves if we hadn't turned onto the sand road. The
Corners included two good gravel roads, a gas pump, a little grocery store, and
a minor miracle--the lady at the store had a tiny baby and a supply of baby
formula in the ice box. She also had a beautiful warm smile. She knew the men,
heard the story, and quickly warmed up a bottle.
While Johnny and his dad picked up
food for the lumberjacks, Betty fed the baby and shared a bottle of pop with
Catherine. Tom drank a glass of milk and ate a homemade cookie that the kind
lady laid out for her sudden guests.
Since the men were anxious to get back
to their logging camp, we thanked the lady profusely as she followed us out to
the trucks. She smiled and said, "You're certainly welcome. One mother can
certainly help another. I'm sure you'd do the same."
Johnny took the food for the loggers
and his dad said to us, "Crawl in. I'll get your car out of the sand.
Johnny said you were looking for Tea Lake. I drove in there once--great virgin
timber! It's about ten miles from here."
"We just want to go home now,
back near Gordon, Wisconsin."
In fifteen minutes we were back to
the Studebaker. Johnny's Dad didn't lift it out with brute strength, but used a
heavy rope and we were ready to go in no time.
"Can you find your way home
now?"
It was getting dark. We were
hesitant.
"I'll lead you back to the black
top and see that you turn west. It isn't that far."
We were embarrassed that we weren't
carrying any money to offer this man or his son, after all the bother we had
caused. Betty impulsively stripped off her wrist watch and offered it to him.
He laughed, pushed her hand back and said, "I'm glad you have a half tank
of gas. You better get on the road going west. Be sure to keep the moon behind
you."
At the black top, windows came down
and smiles were passed around generously as Johnny’s dad pointed west, made a
"U" turn, and we began to retrace our route to Camp Bovey. Two hours
later, lights on, we came to the gas pumps where we had separated in the
morning. Their lights were on, so we decided to stop and ask if they had seen
the Buick. Also, Spottie had been whining, telling us he wanted to get out. As
we were talking to the man, Spottie jumped out to stretch his legs and find a
tree.
As we got on our way looking for
Simms Road House and then the Flamang Road to camp, Betty said, "Won't the
Boys be glad to see us!"
"I hope so. As a 13th wedding
anniversary I'd say that the number 13 is not my lucky number."
We rode along quietly for about a
half hour when Betty said, "Spottie is pretty quiet in the back seat. He
must be tired." She shifted baby Betty carefully so she could turn around
to see Spottie. She looked in every corner of the car. Spottie wasn't there!
"Catherine! Spottie isn't with
us. We must have left him at the filling station!"
"Oh, no! Shall we go
back?"
"No. Not now. We've gotta get
home. He'll wait for us. David can go back in the morning."
Another hour, mostly quiet, and we
came to the Flamang Road to camp. Two miles north we saw a bobcat cross the
road, then Ox Lake where we heard the loons and the coyotes. Just before we
came to the camp road we saw headlights coming fast. We stopped and flicked our
lights.
It was a blue Buick convertible.
David! He stopped, head on, six feet away, jumped out and ran to the
Studebaker. In a voice that was both relieved and confrontational, "Where
have you been all day?"
Betty in a quavering
voice--"Lost . . .stuck in the sand . . .eaten by mosquitoes . . . Why
didn't you find us? Where have you been?"
Betty began to cry. David said,
"Tea Lake. You were supposed to follow us. Les almost died -- stung by
bees!"
Catherine started to cry. Tommy and
baby Betty woke up. David mellowed and did a big dimpled grin for the girls --
"Everything is going to be all
right. Let's get back to Camp and get something to eat. Les is there feeding
the kids and putting them to bed."
Sure enough--back at Camp Bovey all
was quiet. With the help of the older kids, Caroline and Jeff, the young ones
were fed and put to bed, An hour later the four parents sat around a table in
the dining hall eating warmed up spaghetti and telling their stories of a 13th
wedding anniversary that went awry.
Shortly after sunrise David was on
his way to fetch Spottie, who was waiting, watching, and wagging his tail
thirteen miles southeast of Camp Bovey, never in doubt that his good master would come.
