Head Out To the Lake: Step 144

Wisconsin is probably best known for its cheese and the progenitors of that product the cows: Guernsey, Holstein and Brown Swiss. While its license plates proudly proclaim it America’s Dairyland, many people wonder if the state might have been better served by taking the title its neighbor asserts. Minnesota bumpers display plates with 10,000 Lakes emblazoned on them and their DNR counts 11,842 lakes of ten acres or more. The Wisconsin DNR reports, in this running dispute over which one has more, approximately 15,000 lakes, many smaller and unnamed but with a lot more water largely due to the greater depth of most Wisconsin lakes.

Having lived in both places I can assure anyone who wants to know they both have enough lakes for everyone desiring to fish, ski, sail, swim, or whatever. What they both forget to tell the tourist is the mosquitoes are large enough to be named the state bird in either place. When someone is young, equipped with a vehicle, and looking for something fun to do with friends, insects, even the size of birds, are not a deterrent.

Growing up in Milwaukee whenever anyone spoke of the lake they were talking about Lake Michigan. However, if they added the words up to or out to they were referring to one of the aforementioned smaller lakes. Among these inland or outlying lakes the one my friends and I were most likely to head out to (thus, outlying) was Friess Lake.

One of the great tests for my ’58 Rambler was how well it handled the rolling hills on Hubertus Road after we turned off of old highway 41 and headed to the lake. Unfortunately when they put the freeway in they didn’t take this into account, because now cars pass over Hubertus in favor of the much more level, despite its name, Holy Hill Road. Fortunately the pride of American Motors held together over every hurdle.

Although the car had no difficulty making it into the parking lot, sometimes getting a self-conscious teenage girl out of the dressing room required a skillful approach to shift her into gear. I’m not certain about the first time I went with Marcy out to the lake, but I know on at least one occasion I was grateful Randee was there. Compared to the bathing suits my daughters wear the suits most girls wore that summer were like full-length robes.

Naturally none of the boys gave a second thought about what they looked like in their suits, and they were out in the water as fast as they could change and go. Once the girls became acclimated to the water, which had a much more favorable temperature than Lake Michigan, the fun began. We would toss the Frisbee around, chasing and diving to catch it before it skimmed the surface of the water. After thirty minutes to an hour of catch there would usually be a good splash fight. Once in awhile a couple of girls would sit on guys shoulders and battle each other to see if they could knock the other couple into the water. The rest of the time was spent treading water just out beyond the drop-off point, or if the girls were feeling less self-conscious we might find ourselves lying on air mattresses floating on top of the water.

To me the best part was driving home after everyone had exhausted himself or herself having fun at the lake. Quiet would fill the back seat and Marcy would put her head on my shoulder as we drove for three quarters of an hour (only a half hour now on the freeway) back to town. Once we were through the town of Hubertus, except for the turn onto highway 41 I gained great satisfaction perfecting my one-armed driving skills.

Do you remember summer at the beach? Share with us in the comment section.

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