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Looking back at the Roads End Camp

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Every once in a while I’ll receive an email from someone who used to visit Havasu Palms back in its Roads End heyday. I love it when people share their stories with me. Here is an email I received a little over a week ago. I wanted to get his permission before I posted the email. When Mr. Danielson granted his permission, he mentioned he recognized one of the men from the book, and I believe the above photo is the one he was referencing.

I was looking for information on “Roads End Camp” and happened across the website.  I read your story.  I used to camp there from 1957 through the summer of 1964 with my parents.  Have always wanted to go back, but too many wars and interventions got in the way.  I’m sure the only things I would recognize now would be the road and Pilot Rock.  I once buried “treasure” there, on the sandy shelf in about 4 feet of water .  I have ordered your books from Amazon (paperbacks) and looking forward to the old pictures.  We used to fish under the bridge and over at Parker Dam.  My dad got to know one of the divers that cleaned the underwater gates.  He could tell some stories about giant catfish down there.  I remember the time we were ‘asked” to leave Squaw Dam because it was on a reservation.  We had been going there for years.  Vidal Junction was a place at the edge of the world then, the last sign of civilization (well almost).  Your sister is right, “…the best of times”.

We never met and I was recovering from my first tour when you first saw Roads End.  I get the feeling that the camp (Havasu Palms) became special to you too.  I’m sure the family connection played a major role in that; but back then, the way it was, the place could put a spell on you.  Reading your story has saddened me, but helped to put a touch of closure too.  Knowing what I do now, I wouldn’t want to go back.  I’ve never gone back to Pico Rivera since leaving.  Too much change, too many memories of how it once was.  I once walked across “London Bridge”, before it moved to Arizona!

 Thank You,

 Joe Danielson, CMS USAF (Ret)

My Claims to Fame

Antique manual typewriter isolated on whiteMy claims to fame in high school were that I drove a boat to school and that I typed all my notes.

The first made me cool – the second made me nerdy. So I suppose they sort of balanced me out.

Living on the California side of Lake Havasu at Havasu Palms, I took a 12-mile (round trip) boat ride each school day – beginning in my sophomore year. A friend who lived with my family for a portion of my sophomore year shared the boat ride with me, but for most of the time, it was a solo run.

My boating adventures included numerous engine failures – being caught in storms – once I sunk the boat (okay, I did make it to shore, but it was going down fast) – and once I rescued a drowning man (okay, he wasn’t drowning exactly; he had foolishly put an engine on his canoe, and when I found him his canoe had capsized and he was precariously holding onto the tip of the craft in frigid water).

As for the notes – those were typed on an old red Royal typewriter my grandfather had given me. The keyboard – now attached to a computer instead of typewriter — remains my preference over pen and paper. Had laptops been invented back when I was in high school, then perhaps the typing thing wouldn’t have seemed so nerdy.

Dark Nights and Fast Boats on Lake Havasu

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Racing down Lake Havasu south from Lake Havasu City, heading toward Parker Dam isn’t such a terrific idea once the sun has set, especially when you pass Havasu Palms. This was especially true a few years back, when navigation lights were even scarcer than they are now.

I remember one year- when we were still at Havasu Palms – a boat raced past the park and veered right, into Whipple Bay, instead of staying in the center of the main channel. This landed the boat on the shoreline across from Havasu Palms’ mobile home park along Whipple Bay.

As was the routine when an accident occurred near the park, someone came to get one of us from Havasu Palms management. After all, it wasn’t like they could call a local cop.

They found Don at the restaurant, and informed him a boat had just crashed on the other side of Whipple Bay; they heard it. Don immediately drove from the restaurant to the mobile home park.

Sound carries exceptionally well across the water. When Don arrived, he could hear shouts of help coming from the darkness, across the bay.

Standing at the shore Don called out, “Is anyone hurt?

“No, we’re fine!” He heard them call back.

Sadly, we’ve seen our share of boating accidents over the years, and often people die. Don was relieved to hear no one was hurt.

The next moment Don heard them call out, “We need a ride to shore!”

Don paused a moment, then shouted back, “You’re already on the shore!”

(Photo: Whipple Bay at Havasu Palms, California)