Lakeside in the High Sierra

LAKESHORE, Calif. — After five hours of driving, night had finally caught up with us. Through the forest we caught glimpses of the lake and the flames of campfires, and by the time our high beams fell on our turnoff, we were ready to collapse. We unpacked the car and walked down to the dock. Huntington Lake, this unexpected gem in the middle of the High Sierra, lay before us, dark and still beneath the stars.

It had been a spur-of-the-moment getaway, and we had been running late all day. We'd packed the car and left Los Angeles in a blur: Interstate 5 to Highway 99. We turned right at Fresno and hit the mountains head-on. It was the middle of August last year, and we were feeling the dog days of summer.

As we drove north, fighting the monotony of the Central Valley, my wife, Margie, and I listed the things we might do during the week ahead--swimming and sailing, hiking and fishing. But that night in our cabin, a bottle of Merlot and a deck of cards between us, we knew this vacation would be a success if we did absolutely nothing.

Huntington may not have the star power of Lake Tahoe, the prettiness of nearby Bass Lake or the convenience of Big Bear Lake. Four miles long by half a mile wide, it is a little scruffy, and it doesn't get as many visitors as some lakes. But for us, this is the appeal. There are no big resorts here, no fast-food restaurants or fancy eateries, no deafening powerboats and Ski-Doos. This is a no-frills kind of escape, reminiscent of a bygone era. At 7,000 feet, surrounded by dark green forests, granite domes and peaks, it is just short of heaven.

When the sun rose the day after our arrival, the sweet indolence of a morning without an alarm took over. I filled the percolator with water (no automatic drip machines here), lighted the propane stove and stepped outside to remind myself what this world looked like in sunshine.