Growing Up On Tionesta Reservoir- Part 2

 

Uncle Bud's campsite on the water.  His green Scout is there so it had to come down the scary trail- there was no other road access to these sites. His boat, which I think was called the Sea Bee, is docked at the shore.





Uncle Bud, Aunt Leona and their son, Gib at their campsite.




Uncle Bud's boat on the reservoir







Uncle Bud on the aqua-plane

 

 

 

Uncle Bud on his aqua-plane, pulling himself right up to the boat near the engine.



Uncle Bud's camp by the water. My Mom and Dad under the canopy.  Aunt Leona and Grandma Kay on the tailgate of Uncle Bud's Scout.  Grandpa Joe toasting this very good life.





Grandma Kay and Grandpa Joe at Uncle Bud's campsite



Our boat, the Lone Star, with its powerful McCulloch engine. Uncle Ron was always the driver. Aunt Maureen is standing next to him. I think it is cousin Jim in the water.

 

My dad in the foreground. Charlotte, cousin Jim, Aunt Mar in fluorescent bathing cap (can't have lake water mess up all the work with the curlers), Uncle Ron at the ladder, and cousin Carol is probably in the water.




Uncle Ron giving Charlotte a rare chance to drive. He always drove the boat.



Charlotte with her Kodak Brownie camera. It was an antique even then, but took great pictures and she used it in many different countries when she traveled. Ron captaining the boat as usual.

 




Char on the prow of the boat.  The windshield slid underneath where it opened.

Scotty Joe, as I was called when I was litle, showing off early fishing skills.  We must have had a problem with the boat engine.



 

Uncle Ron with Scottie Joe. Big smile because I am having a blast. Teeth apparently optional.




Water skiing on the Tionesta Reservoir



My dad with his single "slalom" ski.  He was one of the best skiers.

 

 

 

Skiers: Charlotte, cousin Jim and his sister Carol



Skiers Aunt Maureen and cousin Carol



Aunt Mar and Uncle Dale



Jumping the wake was exciting. Uncle Ron also liked to give the skiers a chance to play "crack the whip." He would turn the boat hard, and it would feel like it was going to capsize, with water now spraying from your hand on the side where us spotters were gripping on for dear life. The skiers shot out beside, and sometimes even in front of the boat. He would counter steer so they didn't get too much slack and they would pull arms apart and up to minimize the "snap" when the ski rope went taut again.



Skiers




Looks like Maureen, Charlotte, and Jim, skiing. Our boat had the best driver and a very powerful engine. At one point we towed 7 skiers at one time. What was funny was I wrote about Tionesta when I was at school at Penn State. My friend Barbara introduced herself to me in that class. Her family had camped at Tionesta, and nearby us. We may have even seen each other back then. She remembered watching our skiers- she said everyone noticed because there were so many that they expected us to start doing pyramids on each other's shoulders.




Skiers



Letting go of the rope was an awesome trick. If they could maintain balance, the skiers just slowly sink back into the water as they lose momentum.

Cousin Carol skiing




Skiers way out beside the boat. You can see our little dot of tent or canopy in the woods beyond Uncle Bud's camp.



Getting the skiers up and out of the water requires a burst of sudden power. I didn't really remember that years later when I was driving the boat with my Aunt Tami, who is Ron's wife, while he was trying to ski. We were a bit clueless and hesitant (and laughing like fools). We drug him slowly behind the boat, without powering up so he could pop out of the water. We slowly dragged him behind us, almost pulled his arms out of the sockets, caused his legs to cramp up trying to keep his skis in front of him, and because of his crouched position, gave him a slow-motion lake water enema. He was not nearly as amused as we were. He was yelling instructions at us. With colorful descriptive language. We figured it out eventually. He did not have as much fun skiing as others did when he drove.



Dad and Aunt Mar skiing one-handed






My wild Dad skiing a little close to shore. He had great balance and would often "catch air" when jumping the boat wake. He could dig his slalom ski in hard on a turn and send a huge plume of water in the air. It was a thrill to watch him.



As long as it was warm, I was a "water-dog", Mom would have to make me get out because I was getting prune skin.

Me and Dad with our dog, Sniffy Beagle





Me and Sniff and Dad with his stogie



Me with Dad with Sniffy trying to drink the lake dry



Dad and me on the inner tube

 



His son Louie, with my Dad's best friend Ron, and his wife Karin. Our dog Sniffy doing what he did best.

 

Dad's friend, Ron, with Louie, and my Dad

Ron M. And Louie




My mom, looking classy as always, while catching some rays.




Aunt Maureen soaking in that summer heat




Me about to "surprise" cousin Carol, even though she knew I was there.  Charlotte proves that Maureen wasn't the only one setting her hair in the wilderness. 

Me and cousin Todd.  Still too early and chilly to swim, but we are ready.

 

 

Cousin Todd and me playing in the bathtub. There was a steep drop-off in the lake, so this worked for when no adults wanted to swim with us. That was actually the bath tub we used for years, with water heated on the fire. Adults would use it standing in it and pouring water over themselves.

 

 

Me on the path from our camp to the lake

 

Charlotte surveying our paradise





Uncle Ron, Grandpa Joe holding up the "big fish" they caught, my Dad with his fish still hidden, Sniffy and me.




Dad with his huge Muskie, and me. He had to convince me that they did not come into shallow water to eat little boys.





Grandma Kay, Charlotte, Carol, Maureen, Mom, and me holding Chippy- keeping her safe from hawks.  We attended church on Sundays, even while camping. At first we went to the firehall in Tionesta. I liked going to church where you could siton the bumper of a firetruck. Eventually they built St Anthony's Catholic Church with the help of campers like us. Father John Kuzilla was Grandma Grandpa's favorite priest. He had a modern outlook that they liked- they were used to the pompous and stodgy priests in Cleveland. Grandma would sing "Shout from the Highest Mountain" even after church. Fr. John was a humble priest who was so accessible. He sometimes came back to camp with us and took off his collar to have a beer with the fellows. We were not overly religious, but he made it worth the trouble- it was not an easy task to "go to church.”

Getting ready at camp with no running water, with the women doing hair and getting dressed up a bit, then the hike to the Lake to get in the boat.  It would take several trips ferrying everyone to the Dam. Ron was not supposed to drive too fast which would  would mess up everyone's hair. Then the hike up the cliff to the cars.  A short trip into town to hear an inspiring but short sermon. Then reverse the procedure to get back to camp.

Years later, when Grandma died, no church would hold her funeral mass in New Castle, because she was "not a regularly attending member there". Grandpa said that meant they hadn't donated an offering every Sunday. We called Fr. John Kuzilla  and he drove to New Castle to say mass for her. He lived his faith without making a fuss, but he was an inspiration to many.

Grandma Kay, Uncle Ron, my Dad, and Grandpa Joe enjoying the fall foliage

 

Aunt Maureen watching over me- too cold to swim

 

Me standing on a tree stump at the water's edge



I don't remember why, but they let a huge amount of water out of Tionesta Dam and lowered the reservoir for a time. The stump in the foreground is the one I am standing on in the previous picture. We knew there was a big drop-off under the water when swimming, but it was surprising to see how much. Grandma Kay has her foot on a stump that was always under water.



Same picture without Gram or Scotty Joe

 

Grandma and me



Charlotte sitting on our dock that was now almost a ladder

Charlotte sitting on our dock that was now almost a ladder

Char and Scotty Joe standing where we once would have been underwater






Same stump, but looking the other direction

 

Same stump, but looking the other direction




Uncle Bud and Char checking out our docks



Scotty Joe with the sun setting on Tionesta Reservoir (back with normal water level)



Believe it or not, this is our driveway at Skinny Timber, right after Grandpa bought it. It had just been logged. This was actually one of the nicer sections, but the Scout was used to driving through worse. Charlotte and I on the tailgate.