MY FIRST VISIT TO A NUDIST CAMP

 

In another post here, I wrote about sneaking into Fraternity Snoqualmie when I was a boy. But back in 1966, after reading in the “Everett Herald” about two nudist camps in the area, do you think I’d be satisfied with sneaking into only one of them? The Lake Associates (now the Lake Bronson Club) was much closer, just up the hill from Sultan, where my Dad was pastor of the Methodist church and where I went to high school.

I managed to get my bicycle seven miles up the Sultan Basin Road, having to walk and push most of the way, before coming to a mailbox that sported in large letters, "L.A.," beside a driveway blocked by a swinging bar gate with a combination lock. A bit further, on the other side of the road, was a little gravel pit, and in there, in some brush, I hid my bike. Then I walked around the bar gate and slowly made my way along the long driveway. Eventually I could see buildings ahead. There was no sign of people; it was a weekday and probably not busy; but I left the driveway and crept through the woods until I passed the buildings. Snapping my way through the thick underbrush seemed terribly noisy to me, and more than once I heard sounds of life coming from the buildings--a door closing, a voice--but no one seemed to take notice of my ruckus. I figured that these were the office buildings and the recreational part of the camp was further ahead. Back on the driveway I continued on...and on...and on... Eventually the road narrowed and then turned into a trail. Not knowing what else to do, I pressed on into the evening. As I sneaked through the camp, darkness sneaked up on me. I lost the trail and made my way by moonlight into oblivion. I was completely lost.

I came to the top of a hill and looked down over a ridge to see two small lakes beside each other in the distance. I didn't know of such lakes. Nothing was familiar. I kept walking. After awhile I heard a dog barking in the distance. A house! A dog would mean a house! I stumbled on toward the barking.

Hours later I came to a yard surrounding a house in the woods. Lights were on in the house, but I couldn't see a thing in the yard. The moonlight was gone. Then I heard the dog that had been barking come running toward me. After all I had been through, I wasn't about to be bitten by a dog, so when I heard the dog at my feet, I kicked. The animal let out a cry and ran off. Later I felt awful about this, because not only did the dog help me find my way, but it was a nice dog and had run up only to greet me. I went to the door of the house and knocked. No answer, but there were sounds coming from inside. I knocked again, louder. Finally the door opened, and there stood four frightened teenagers, one holding a baseball bat. And I knew them! They were even friends of mine! Their foster parents were away; they lived deep in the woods; they heard no car drive up; and someone was banging on their door. They had been terrified, and were surprised and relieved to see me.

These teenagers attended our church, and I didn't dare tell them that I got lost exploring a nudist camp. So I told them that I had hidden my bike at Winters Lake (a place to swim beside the Sultan Basin Road) and had gone hiking and got lost, and they were more than willing to drive me back to my bike. Happy for an excuse for a drive, all of them piled in the car, the oldest at the wheel, and we tore down the dirt road through the woods. They were familiar with the road and comfortable with the speed. I wasn't, and wondered if they were traumatizing me intentionally. At Winters Lake, I got out of their car, happy to be alive, and went down a slope into the underbrush, and called back, "Here's my bike. Thank you very much!" They drove off. Unfortunately the Lake Associates gate was three miles farther up the road. Knowing it was terribly late, I mostly ran up the hill three miles to where my bike really was, hopped on it, and coasted almost all the way to town in the darkness. Mom and Dad were still awake and worried sick, having called the police to search for me. I told them the same story I had told my friends. This was my first visit to a nudist camp. 

Little did I know then that I would later live in that nudist camp, my wife would clean the lodge, and I would be insured driving their truck.

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For the complete contents of the Butter Rum Cartoon, click HERE.