More on my fear of water

After my early experiences with water—the scare I received on Jenny Lake in July 1951 and my near drowning in the Owyhee River in July 1955—I had an active fear of any water I couldn’t see the bottom of, such as a lake or a river. I could deal with bath tubs or swimming pools, but I never became much of a swimmer.

When I was a Boy Scout, we used to go to Scout camp every summer at Camp Billy Rice, which was located in the mountains north of the Boise area somewhere east of the town of Cascade. The camp was located on Warm Lake, which was anything but warm. If you jumped or were thrown into the frigid water, it would absolutely take your breath away. And if you stayed overly long in the water, you would begin to believe that you had no feet or legs or other body extremities. The water temperatures were that numbing.

I managed at camp to pass the short swimming requirements for the various rank advancements, but my fear of water kept me from actual swimming and thus from earning my Eagle rank. I was a Life Scout by the time I quit Scouting, and I was only two merit badges short of Eagle—swimming and lifesaving.

By the summer of 1967, just after I graduated from high school, I finally worked up the courage to try water skiing for the first time. We were at a youth outing on Lake Lowell, a reservoir south and west of Nampa, and I decided to go for it. I made it up onto the skis and let the boat pull me around for a while. And I actually survived. Of course, I was wearing a life jacket and that made it difficult to sink into the dark watery depths below me.

I can remember going water skiing only two other times during my life: The first was on Lake Washington during June of 1971, when I was spending a week visiting Dana Blackham, whose family lived in Seattle and owned a boat. Dane and I had been missionary companions in Brazil while we served in Maceió. Later we were roommates at Brigham Young University. He served as the best man at our wedding reception. And I let him take me water skiing again.

The other time was at Pineview Reservoir up near Huntsville and Eden in the Ogden Valley on July 17, 1999, two days before my fiftieth birthday. It was another youth outing. This time I was there as bishop. I suspect I had not actually planned to ski that day, but before the outing was over, I was out there on the water being pulled around by Sheldon Panter's boat. I had a difficult time, as I remember it, getting up on the skis, but finally I made it. For a little bit anyway. I am not as young as I used to be.