A summer journal
The summer the lake became home.
One rented lake house. Two families that didn't know each other. A month that turned into the best years of my life.
"I had no idea who they were. Turns out it would be the best vacation I'd ever had."
Strangers, then a second family.
When I was a young teenager, my parents decided to go halves on a lake house with friends and rent it out for a month. I'd never met the other family — I was nervous the whole drive up, wondering whether I'd even like the people I was about to spend a month with.
Turns out it was the best vacation of my life. Their kids became my best friends — like extra siblings I never knew I needed. We spent every minute together and I cherished every bit of it.
Every night, we made the most of it.
They let me invite my friends up constantly. We all stuck together — playing games, learning to wake surf when none of us had a clue what we were doing (somehow everyone got up and was surfing in no time), mini-golf, go-karts, ice cream runs. Every night was something.
When there wasn't anything to do, we made something out of nothing. Walking around being dumb kids. Massive games of manhunt with everyone. The kind of stuff you only get away with when you're young.
One night we grabbed the fire extinguishers and sprayed them — no idea what they'd do. Next thing I know there's a cloud of white everywhere and I'm freaking out. Looking back, it might be the funniest memory I have from up there.
On the water
Drive off into the sunset. Look at the views. Hit every wake the boats made.
A community that just wanted a good time.
Right next to the house was a sandy beach where most of the boats would gather. Music loud, everyone hanging out, no problems — just a community on the water. We'd toss a football, eat, relax. It was always a good time.
They told me to whip them harder.
We had two jet skis — one supercharged, ours hit 70 MPH. One day my buddies are on the tube behind me yelling "whip us as hard as you can." I'm 14, of course I said bet.
So I'm doing 30–40 MPH on a tube, cutting side to side, trying to throw them. One hard left, the tube clips a big wave and sends them skipping across the water like a flat rock. Hurt them a little. Funny forever.
The scariest moment of my life.
First week of having the house. My buddy on the regular ski, me on the supercharged one, flying at 70. For some reason I thought turning at that speed was a good idea. The ski caught a wave and launched me.
All I remember is black, then skipping across the water — it tears your skin at that speed — terrified the ski was about to come down on top of me. It didn't. Minor injury, major story.
I couldn't see five feet in front of me.
I was 14, still a year shy of my license, refilling at the marina. Whoop-whoop — red and blues. The cop pulled up, told me my numbers weren't right, told me to get it fixed, and left. I went back to filling up.
Two minutes later, the worst storm I've ever been caught in hit. Hail. Couldn't see the houses from the no-wake zone. Hugging the shoreline, hyperventilating, crying because I had no idea if I'd make it back. After fifteen of the longest minutes of my life, I found the right house and jumped straight into my mom's arms.
Coda
Every wave, every wipeout, every dumb idea — I'd do it all again.
Gavin Carnevale · Summers on the lake