Laura Lake



After the frustrations at the far too busy western campgrounds, Laura Lake is a treat.  Last night, Gary and I did a count of the campgrounds and found that only 13 of the 39 sites were filled. In our loop, our friends the Battens were the only other campers. 

We sit in the quiet and read the stacks of library books we brought along. Sometimes, Gary turns on the radio to listen to classic music.  Mozart, Bach, Beethovan, Sibelius, each sounds wonderful in a forest setting.

Laura Lake is not the biggest or fanciest of the lakes, but I have loved it since I first brought my son Chris here around thirty years ago.  Some years later, I nagged Gary until he was willing to take a side trip off Highway 8 to take a look at it.  He was smitten, too. Since then we have come here every summer for at least a week or two. 

Each summer I follow the trail around the lake to find old friends, birds, wildflowers or critters.

There is something about the light filtering through the trees, something about the quiet splash of waves, something about the soft whispering of the pines.  We have been here in every season, even hiking in during the winter.  We swim, we hike, we light campfires, we wallow in beauty.  

Sweet.