Thirty-five years before I married into the Grant family, my future in-laws were given a gift.
 
The year was 1933.  The gift was a boy.  His name was Jack Harvey Grant, and with Jackie’s birth, he joined his parents, Sammy and Vi Grant, and his two-year old brother, Carson. 
 
On the day he was born, the Grant family was also presented with a dilemma.  
 
In addition to the gift of life, my future brother-in-law was also born with a serious defect.  Jackie Grant was born with a deformity in his spine.  It was called Spinal Bifida.  And with that birth defect, Jackie’s care became an “ever-present” challenge for the whole family.
 
The prognosis was not encouraging.  Jackie was told that he would likely never walk, nor have a long life. While surgeries held promise, they also held pain.  They were expensive, and, there were no guarantees.
 
Sammy and Vi weighed treatment options for Jackie.  They had to make a tough choice early on.   Multiple surgeries were recommended.  The hope was that he might live a longer life, but again, there were no guarantees.  As they weighed their options against the risks, they decided to do their best to surround Jackie with as much “quality of life” that they could. 
 
Over his lifetime, Jackie never walked, but he also never lacked for energy, or the drive to learn.  It is also certain that he never lacked for love.  His entire family made sure of that.
 
Sammy and Vi sought ways to enrich the lives of both of their boys.  Vi tried to expand their world and expose them to different things.  She wanted Jackie to experience as much of life as he could.  She stubbornly refused to let Jackie’s disability restrict and be an obstacle.  So, Vi looked for ways around it.
 
The answer was around them, or maybe more accurately, it was above them.
 
Within ten years after Jackie was born, the Grants moved just a bit east to Highland Park, California.  But wouldn’t you know it, with the move they became our neighbors.  I was eight when I first remember seeing Jackie.  You couldn’t miss him.
 
I was three years younger than Jackie, so I watched him navigate his wheelchair all around our neighborhood.  He was an expert.  His disability certainly didn’t limit his ability to get around. 
 
I also saw something else.  Jackie’s mind and his motivation to learn was certainly not disabled either.  He loved to learn, and he learned and did all that he could with the “abilities” that he did have.
 
From our neighborhood in Highland Park we had a pretty good view of the San Gabriel Mountains.  Even on smoggy days, they were close enough that you could almost always see the outline of the mountains rising above the valley.  You couldn’t miss them. They formed the northern border of what has been nicknamed the Los Angeles Basin.
 
The mountains drew the Grants.  They offered change and variety.  The views and the change of pace offered new ways to stimulate Jackie - and everyone else for that matter.  Regular get-a-ways became infectious.
 
But once again, the Grants were faced with a choice.  They could take day trips up to the rugged, but largely undeveloped San Gabriel Mountains - which they could see from their home.  Or, they could take entire weekends, or longer, to head a bit further east to the more populated and developed San Bernardino Mountains.   
 
The drive to the San Bernardino Mountains was more than two hours each way, but places like Big Bear, Lake Arrowhead, and Crestline seemed to beckon them.



My future in-laws weren’t the only people to be drawn from the LA Basin to the local mountains.  The draw to the mountains started ramping up about 100 years earlier.
 
The search for food stuffs and other resources was the primary motivation.  With the mountain topography and geology being opposite to the hot and arid climate in the valley, the mountains added variety. 
 
Following the 1849 California Gold Rush, the LA Basin began to expand.
 
Hunting for food and searching for other raw materials became more pronounced as larger numbers of people migrated west.   
 
Twelve years after gold was found in northern California at Sutter’s Mill in 1848, Billy Holcomb discovered gold while hunting bear near Big Bear.  “There’s gold in them hills”, could soon be heard in high in the San Bernardino Range – in what is now called Holcomb Valley.
 
While the quest for gold drew prospectors, it was water and timber that the growing population needed.  These were pursued in earnest.
 
For Mormons migrating from Utah, lumber had been a staple building material.  It was not adobe.  While the valley floor did not have a lot of usable timber for building construction, the mountains did.  In the second half of the 1800s, sawmills began to spring up.  Equipment and remains of the mills can still be found scattered throughout the mountain.
 
Shouts of “timber” began to echo through the mountains.  Horse-drawn wagons lumbered up and down the old Mormon Trail that followed Waterman Canyon.  Supplies went up, logs and lumber came down.
 
While logging and mills flourished, the main trail took a beating.  First wagons and mules traversed the steep trail.  Over time, the trail slowly got wider to allow loads from either direction to pass by.  Eventually, it began to “look” like a logging road. 
 
“Where there is a will, there is a way” aptly summarizes the ingenuity and spirit it took to haul materials up and down the mountains.  There was even a stagecoach line that used the logging road to trek up Waterman Canyon.  Evidence was found at the Squirrel Inn in 1982.  It was two empty money bags from a Wells Fargo stage.  The bags certainly added mystery to the discovery.
 
By 1911 automobiles started to replace horse-drawn carts in making the trip up and down the mountain.  Eventually the logging road was overhauled to make it easier for automobiles to use. 
 
On the climb up, switchbacks were littered with rocks that had been used “to brace a rig” that had a broken axle or an overheated engine, so it wouldn’t slide back down the mountain.  Of course, the rocks didn’t go away once the vehicle continued lurching up the mountain.  Mostly, they just became yet another obstacle to navigate and overcome. 
 
Out of necessity, roads and infrastructure slowly developed mostly to haul materials up and down the mountain. 
 
Finally, by the 1930s the “Rim of the World Highway” was engineered and built.  This allowed for workers and supplies to get up the mountain quicker.  It also made it easier to try to go up – even in snowy and in-climate conditions.  Easier and quicker trips also began to draw tourists.
 
But besides timber, water was the other raw material that drew attention to the mountains.
 
Since the LA Basin was a desert, finding sources of water was essential to keep pace with the growth.  Lots of ideas and technology were being developed to retain and move water.  Advances in iron works and steel production provided materials to reinforce structures and give them internal strength.   Dams, reservoirs, and pipelines helped tap and hold the water from natural springs, as well as retaining runoff from rain and snow.  Natural valleys within the mountains themselves lent themselves to being potential reservoirs, and eventual lakes.
 
In the 1880s, the first dam was built in the Big Bear Valley.  This formed Big Bear Lake.  At the time, this became the world’s largest manmade reservoir.   This dam allowed for more consistent water source for irrigating the citrus in Redlands, and in Oak Glen.   
 
In 1891, the Lake Arrowhead Reservoir and Power Company started.  In the early 20th century John Baylis was a champion for conservation.  He bought huge tracts of land to control the harvesting of timber.  As a result, he built the Pinecrest Resort, the Arrowhead Skyland Inn, and Thousand Pines Camp.
 
Then in 1910, a new dam was built at Big Bear Lake.  This tripled the size of the lake.  In addition to providing more water, it created a side-effect: tourism.  People began to come to the mountains to enjoy the lake, the surrounding mountains.  They also came to ski - with the first ski lift opening in 1938.  This in turn prompted lodges and other services to spring up.
 
Lake Arrowhead, Lake Gregory, and eventually Lake Silverwood were developed to retain runoff and contain the flow of water from the north, and from the Colorado River to the east.    
 
The management of water became a major enterprise in 1950 for southern California.  In 1950, the California Aqueduct began piping water from Mono Lake which was 300 miles away in Central California, just east of Yosemite.
 
Capturing, and selling water that flowed freely from natural springs located at base of Waterman Canyon, supplied a major water bottling company.   
 
Raw materials prompted development.  Dam-building created a host of jobs and interest.  Concrete and materials were hauled up to create the dams for the four lakes.  In the process, all the hauling of timber and materials related to dam-building slowly created community and infrastructure within the San Bernardino Mountains.


 
Well before Carson Grant and I were married in 1968, his family “discovered” the San Bernardino Mountains in the 1940s and 1950s.   Motivated by a desire to enrich and stimulate their boys’ lives, my future in-laws regularly packed up on Friday evenings, left Highland Park, and made the two-hour drive east. 
 
The draw to the San Bernardino Mountains by the Grant family, and especially Carson, was fierce.  Moving to Highland Park was the first domino to fall in the progression of events that led to our sojourn at the Squirrel Inn.  With the Grants being our neighbors, it also slowly primed me to a love for the mountains as well.
 
In 1954, I turned 18.  That same year Jackie Grant died at the age of 21. 
 
Jackie never knew me as his sister-in-law.  Yet, his life and disability played a major role in my love for the mountains, and in the story of the Squirrel Inn.  While he died young and prematurely, the love of the mountains had already burrowed itself deep within the soul of the Grant family.
 
Taking weekend trips to the San Bernardino Mountains was the second domino to fall in drawing us to the mountains.  By the early 1960s, Carson was prepped to buy his first and second summer cabins near Crestline.
 
And, wouldn’t you know it, all the development within the mountain, including Carson’s love and personal connection with the mountain, and my own personal journey were all on a converging path that fall of 1980 - as we sat in the car that day and watched the fire march toward the Squirrel Inn.
​

The Rim of the World Highway is a 101-mile-long engineering marvel. 
 
Switchbacks, overhangs, and overlooks dominate the first 14 miles upon leaving San Bernardino.  Driving the road requires full-time concentration.  At times it is nerve-racking.  Yet, there’s a rhythm to driving the mountain: weaving back and forth.  It’s like climbing a gigantic staircase.  The scenery shifts as the elevation rises, especially above 4000 feet. 
 
For the 10 miles, between the Crestline turnoff and Running Springs, the road skirts the rim of the mountain.  The views are awe-inspiring and dramatic.  On clear days, pull offs are perfect places for photo ops.  On snowy days, they are places for the highway patrol to enforce “chain control”.
 
Since it was completed in 1934, the Rim of the World Highway has made access to the San Bernardino Mountains easier and more predictable.
 
The contrasts between the mountains above, and the valley below, can be vivid – especially following a heavy snowfall.  It is dramatic, and the world sure looks different from atop the rim of the world.
 
 
PANORAMA & PERSPECTIVE:
 
Growing up in Highland Park, California, the local mountains were just eight miles north of us.  To fully appreciate them, I had to look skyward.  I had to crane my neck.
 
Whenever I went to the mountains my perspective shifted.  Instead of looking up, I now had to look down.  This was really true when I was perched 4000 feet above the San Bernardino Valley.  From the rim, I had a panorama view stretching out before me.  The wide-angle views were spectacular.  My minds-eye couldn’t take it all in.  In broadening my horizon, it gave me a “bigger picture” of the valley.  And, it gave me a different “point of view”.
 
At “pull-offs” along the rim, we would park and soak up a completely different perspective on the world.  The views could be varied. 
 
On clear days, usually around sunset, Catalina Island could be seen in the distance – with the Pacific Ocean shimmering around it.  The expanse of the views was breath-taking, and awe-inspiring.  God felt closer.
 
While in the valley, all I could see were the forests.  But, in the mountains – I could see the trees – and even the bark – close up.  I could hear the wind.  See wildlife. Smell the pines. It was majestic, and it was inspiring.
 
There’s power in a panoramic view.  My outlook feels different. My senses are heightened. I feel smaller.  The change helps me relook at things around me.  It renews my balance.  Replenishes me.  And, that is good for my soul.
 
And, maybe another way to say it is this, “Altitude affects my attitude”.
 
 
ESCAPE & RETREAT:
 
Long before the discovery of gold, and the migration west, the indigenous population used the mountains as respite from the desert heat in the San Bernardino Valley.  Summer forays to the mountains countered the harshness of desert life at the base of both sides of the mountain range.  Access to completely different plants and animals provided variety.  Going up and down in evaluation was also a natural thermostat.  Temperatures in higher elevations were always cooler. One went up in the summer and back down in the winter.
 
For some, there is a desire to escape the traffic, smog, and steady flow of people. In a world of tall pines, blind turns, and temporary residents, the mountains seem less crowded.  It feels like there is more space.
 
For me, surrounded by forests and vistas, life always felt more basic.  The pace seemed less hurried. Few of our homes in the mountains had air conditioning.  Somehow, this was normal.
 
For most of my 30 plus years living “on the hill” there were no stoplights.  Yet, with the Rim of the World Highway, the “mountain world” became assessable.  Within 30 minutes, we could get from San Bernardino to the Squirrel Inn. 
 
I remember living and teaching in Los Angeles, but on the weekends and in the summers, we would head to the mountains.  Come Fridays, we wanted to escape from the city.  This sure worked to our advantage at the Squirrel Inn.
 
Retreat facilities, camps, resorts, and mountain learning centers popped up.  Lodging and support services expanded.  Vacation homes on or around the lakes gained popularity for those who could afford them. Weekend, seasonal escapes, and periodic reprieves still provide a sense of respite today.   
 
 
HOT SPRINGS & HEALTH: 
 
Therapies and physical well-being was another natural focus of the mountains. 
 
Located at the base of the San Bernardino Mountains were hot springs and thermal pools of a fair degree of notoriety.  For over 80 years, Arrowhead Springs was a health spa, hotel, resort, hospital, and a Hollywood hangout.  Recuperation and retreat were sold as a commodity – along with the bottled spring water company that was started in 1894, and is still sold today.
 
As early as 1820, Roman Catholic priests called the hot springs “Agua Caliente”.  By the middle of the 1800s, Mormon families from Salt Lake City settled in San Bernardino.  The hot springs, fertile valley, and the heavily forested mountains attracted them.  A logging road went past the hot springs, and followed the Mormon Trail up the mountain.  Now, it’s called Waterman Canyon after a Mormon governor of California in the 1880s.
 
David Noble Smith was affected by the death of his father from tuberculosis. He turned the hot springs into a health spa, and began to give treatments using the hot mineral water.
 
In 1868, a hotel was built on the site.  In 1885 Dr. Smith died, and three days later, the hotel burned down.  The hotel was rebuilt a year later in 1886.  The Arrowhead Springs Hotel became the largest one in San Bernardino, but unfortunately it burned down in 1895.  This cycle became a pattern.
 
In 1905 a third Arrowhead Springs Hotel was built.  And by 1930, a group from Hollywood bought it and promoted as a luxury resort.  It was frequented by movie stars.  Yet, in 1938, it was destroyed by a forest fire. 
 
Finally a grand six-story hotel was built, and opened at the end of 1939.  It catered to the Hollywood crowd.  But, with World War II upon the country, the hotel became a naval hospital in 1944.  After the war there were attempts to bring it back, but air travel other exotic locations like took priority. 
 
From 1962 to 1991, it became the international headquarters of Campus Crusade for Christ.  The hotel, restaurant, and facilities drew conferences and retreats to the area.  This in turn, encouraged me to do the same with the Squirrel Inn.
 
In addition to the natural therapies of the hot springs, the air in the mountains was thinner.  Physical exertion is much more exacting above 4000’ than it is at sea level.  Just the act of breathing was more pronounced.  Climbing 20-30 stairs at a time really gets your heart pumping.  Catching your breath was noticeable, yet the alpine air was refreshing.  All of this was good for me.
 
 
TOURISM & YEAR-AROUND OUTDOOR RECREATION: 
 
Outdoor winter activities have always been an option in the higher elevations surrounding southern California.   But, accessibility and ease have long been the challenge.
 
Building dams and creating major lakes helped expand recreational options.  Yet, it was the building of the Rim of the World highway, and subsequent State Routes 138 and 330 that became game changers.  Infrastructure, community, and support grew as well.  After 1934, the new highway allowed the mountain to be more easily assessable year-around.  On top of this, work was available during the Great Depression.  Also, the rapidly growing Greater Los Angeles population now had destinations that offered four seasons of recreation that were only an hour or two away. 
 
Lakes expanded summer options in include water sports.  Outdoor winter activities could now be easily accessed.  In the push towards year-around weekend tourism, it became the perfect storm. 
 
In 1938, Big Bear opened its first ski lift.  Soon hiking, camping, exploring, boating, skiing, and even hang-gliding brought more options to alpine and cross-country skiing.  
 
Wouldn’t you know it, ski resorts began to develop and encourage winter recreation.  Weekenders flocked to the mountains.  Tourists also started staying longer and longer.  The number of year-around residents began to grow. 
 
During World War II, three Air Force bases were within 40 miles of Lake Arrowhead.  As the Inland Empire of Riverside, San Bernardino, and Redlands grew, summer cabins were converted to year-around homes.  Daily commuter traffic increased as residents headed to jobs “down the hill”.
 
 
BATTLING THE ELEMENTS
 
There are lots of rewards of living in the mountains, but there are risks. While the desert environment is blatantly harsh, life in the San Bernardino Mountains brought its own set of obstacles. Paradise comes with a price.
 
With the San Andreas Fault being at the very foundation of the San Bernardino Range, earthquakes are common.  The geology that brings the hot springs, at times can be unstable.  Homes built on hillsides, can be shaken.
 
Roads and construction carved out of hillsides are subject to gravity.  Nudges from seismic events happens from time to time.  The perils of rocks and rock slides on the roads cannot be taken lightly.  Brakes and tires take a beating in “normal” mountain driving – and more so with hazards in the roadway.
         
Each form of precipitation has its own challenges.  In the semi-arid climate of Southern California, sudden and torrential rains can “run off” more than they “soak in”.  Dry creeks quickly become wet and overflowing.  Hillsides loosen, and can let loose of some of those pesky rocks. 
 
Clouds create their own set of dynamics.  During a 30-minute trip up the mountain, one can experience driving below the clouds, in the clouds, and above them.  Driving in the clouds, and in foggy and wet conditions – especially at night can be harrowing, and quite disorienting.
 
While snow and ice adds to the charm of the mountains, slick, inclined, and curved roads have chased more than a few prayers from my lips.  Tire chains and 4WD vehicles are a normal part of winter driving conditions. Encouraging groups to “be careful” heading back down the mountain after a retreat at the Squirrel Inn could happen at any time we had winter guests.
 
Forest fires regularly ravage the mountains.  Extremely dry conditions whipped by Santa Ana winds from the desert, could instantly turn an errant spark into a blazing inferno.  While fires are a known hazard, the path of a fire is largely unpredictable.  Residents are alert and aware.  And while we owned the Squirrel Inn, we were ever vigilant of the danger of fire.
 
         
RETREAT & THE RIM OF THE WORLD
 
The stark contrasts in climate between the mountain and the valley - which are only a short drive away from a huge population center - drew people to the mountains.  The development, infrastructure, and community helped make it more assessable.  The search for respite, recreation, and retreat were internal motivators at work utilizing the San Bernardino Mountains.
 
By 1910, The Arrowhead Mountain Club was one of the first places in the mountains to develop for the purpose of retreat and respite.  Part of its property rested on what would become the Rim of the World Highway.
 
And, the clubhouse for the Arrowhead Mountain Club was called The Squirrel Inn.

​

“Where’s the Inn?”
 
After 20 minutes of having a realtor show us a piece of property, my curiosity had finally gotten the best of me.  The question just popped out. 
 
My husband and I had been looking for land to develop in the San Bernardino Mountains for a while, and this property had 50 acres.  It was the right size, and I loved the location.  It seemed like it could possibly work.  I was dying to know more about this place.  But, I was a bit confused.  
 
I had yet to see anything  that looked like a traditional inn.
 
Oh, there was an odd collection of structures.  Each oozed with history.  But, it looked more like a settlement, or a camp.  One had three stories, with some common areas inside – something like a lodge.  Another had a round “mini watchtower” - that doubled as a porch.  Still others looked like cabins that had been expanded with lots of random additions over the years.   
 
It was an eclectic assortment of summer residences – with a few other unique features thrown in.  One of those was a croquet court.  Another was an impressive cable footbridge suspended over a flowing creek.
 
While I wasn’t particularly interested in owning eighty-year-old buildings, I was fascinated.  Everything spoke of an era gone by.  It was nostalgic, and even quaint.  And, I was really intrigued. But nothing stood out as an inn.
 
The relator told us what he knew.  The property had been owned by a group of businessmen.  They called themselves the Arrowhead Mountain Club.  By the 1890s, members had begun building summer cabins.  And, everyone in the mountains had always referred to the place as The Squirrel Inn.
 
Later on that day, my husband and I began to talk about it.  And, as we talked, I began to seriously wonder, “What would it be like to own this place?”
 
 
 
Footprints of an Era
 
For four long years, The Civil War dominated the United States. 
 
By 1865, President Lincoln had been assassinated.  General Lee had surrendered, and the fighting had come to a halt.  Survivors struggled to overcome personal loss and brokenness, and move forward.  
 
With the separation and loss of family, homes, and way of life - some wandered far and wide to find work.  Others explored new ideas and ways of doing things.  Inventions flourished.  And for still others – business risks were to be taken.  Fortunes were won, and fortunes were lost.
 
By 1869, railroads were beginning to dot parts of the country.  The transcontinental railroad was finished, and it linked the wide-open west with the populated east.  It allowed business interests and expertise from the east coast to travel more freely and easily to California. No longer was sending goods and people around the tip of South America the only option for getting to the other side of the country. 
 
In 1885, the French began trying to build a canal through the isthmus in Panama.  The hope was to shorten sailing time even more.  The wheels of imagination and possibility were being stirred.  Dirt needed to be moved.  Bodies of water needed to be formed, or rerouted.
 
The same year that the French started the Panama Canal, construction also began on the Big Bear Dam.  The motivation for this dam was to provide a predictable source of water to the citrus groves located below in the City of Redlands. At the time, it created the largest man-made reservoir in the world.  The dam was developed by creating a series of rock arches which only used cement as mortar.  As a result, the demands for cement, and for roads, were fairly minimal, especially when compared to amounts that would be needed for the next dam to be built on the mountain.
 
 
Footprints in the Forest
 
As the Mormons began to settle in San Bernardino in the 1850s, they began to log the San Bernardino Mountains.  They also developed logging trails to better move up and down the mountains. 
 
A host of sawmills were in operation by the 1880s, taking advantage of the available 160 acre logging tracts.  In 1885 John and George Dexter, and the Warren families settled above the Squirrel Inn near Twin Peaks.  The Dexter family owned the saw mills, and they also designed and built most of the cabins in the area.
 
Yet, by 1890, the national shift was towards preserving and conserving the forests.  Areas were designated as national parks.  Yellowstone became the country’s first national park in 1872.  And in California, both Sequoia, and Yosemite became national parks in 1890.
 
Conservation within the San Bernardino Mountains became official in 1893.
 
President Benjamin Harrison declared the creation of the San Bernardino National Forest Preserve.  Over 700,000 acres were designated to protect the watershed from being destroyed.  While some privately owned land continued to be logged, this act halted most of the free independent logging.
 
From 1901 to 1909, Teddy Roosevelt became President. As a young man, he spent time in the west, and was a fierce advocate of forest conservation as well.
 
Soon thereafter, the US Forest Service established the office of the San Bernardino National Forest Preserve just up the road from the Squirrel Inn in Twin Peaks.  While the area was known as Strawberry Flats, because of an abundance of strawberries on the flat crest – there were issues around using the name Strawberry or Strawberry Flats.  As a result, Twin Peaks became the accepted name.  By 1916, the population of Twin Peaks was big enough to have its own post office – which included the Squirrel Inn. 
 
Even though harvesting timber had been slowed down by the turn of the century, a lot of work had already been done by lumber companies to develop and maintain the logging roads.  Routes had been fairly well established. Tolls were collected. The hazards of hauling loads through the mountains while encountering wind, rain, snow, rockslides, earthquakes, and fire were already well known.  And for the most part, experienced and professional drivers drove the teams, and later motorized vehicles, up the mountain roads.
 
The stage was set to support an increased amount of retreat and recreation traffic – including massive amounts of cement needed for a new dam.
 
 
Footprints Up the Mountain
 
The Push:  In late spring each year, once the winter weather broke on the mountain, a steady stream of vehicles pushed up the few logging roads from San Bernardino.  Steady and determined. Like colonies of ants marching to an anthill, traffic was often “bumper to bumper”.  
 
The reasons were threefold. One was to build the Little Bear Creek Dam, which was eventually known as Lake Arrowhead. The second was to escape the heat and enjoy the cooler mountain air.  The third was to haul lumber, supplies, and people back down to the valley.
 
All the movement was to leave quite a footprint.
 
Roads & Rigs: In 1895, a group of southern California and eastern USA businessmen, decided to build a dam just east of Crestline.  This was to supply irrigation water to the valley below.  Suddenly, the routes and conditions of the roads up the mountain became really important in developing the supply line for building the dam. 

There were a couple of choices. 
 
Daley Canyon Road was a wagon road from Del Rosa up to Little Bear Valley.  It was steeper than the Arrowhead Reservoir Toll Road - which went up Waterman Canyon.  As a result, wagons on the Daley Canyon Road were more prone to go out of control.  Rigs carried bells to alert upcoming traffic.  Logs were dragged behind the loads as a brake for the trip downhill to keep from running over the team.
 
By 1909, there was an attempt to do something different.  The idea was to build an inclined railroad in order to haul up the bags of cement to Skyland – near Old Town Crestline.  The “Incline” didn’t work very well, and in 1911 it became a casualty of a wildfire. (Mooney, Gamble, Huntington, and Lowe)
 
The need to haul up cement for the dam pushed the limits and pace of improving the roads. Most rigs were drawn by mules, so barns and liveries were necessary by-products.  The Arrowhead Reservoir Company had its horse and oxen corrals nearby at the crest of the toll road near Skyland.  Of course, it was called “Fly Camp”.
 
Around 1910, motorized vehicles began to change travel up the mountain.
 
The first automobiles to come up the “switchbacks” did so around 1909.  Since they were using a logging road they were only allowed on Wednesdays and Saturdays.  Also there was another dilemma. Without fuel pumps, autos could be seen backing up steep grades in order to keep the fuel flowing to the engine.  Added to this was a new sound.  The whining sounds of engines now echoed up the canyon – shifting and downshifting – belching exhaust along the way.  Also, instead of barns and liveries, vehicles now needed fuel and service.
 
The Rim of the World Highway: In 1915, the Rim of the World Highway project was dedicated by Dr. John N. Baylis.  It was completed in the early 1930s, and was over one hundred miles long.  As a new “High Gear Road”, it was paved and intended for motorized vehicles only. It was also designed to be open all year long.  And the hope was that it would draw more people to the mountain resorts, to enjoy retreat and recreation.  


Footprints of Promotion
 
The change in the 1890s from harvesting timber to conserving it narrowed the primary usage of the mountains to recreation.
 
It didn’t take a lot of promotion to “sell the mountain” during the summer to the population sweltering in the desert-like heat of the valley below.  By the 1880s, the mountain was dotted with entrepreneurs promoting the cooler temperatures.  Some were sawmill owners, who simply repurposed their lumber camps.  People who endured a six-hour-ride, got the reward of camping in the mountain meadows, enjoying the cool air, and mountain views.
 
Skyland was an area just east of Old Town Crestline (Top Town).  People first came to the camp at Skyland during the sawmill days in the 1870s because of its beauty.  One could clearly see the valley below, and on a clear day Catalina Island was visible.  Skyland is the original developed area of Crestline.  It was the terminus of “The Incline” when it worked.  Skyland was also the first resort stop for the Mountain Stage Line.
 
Charles S. Mann was a leading developer in southern California. He actively promoted Crestline.  In 1923, he purchased 430 acres of Guernsey’s Crest Resort Property for people of “moderate means”.  He built hundreds of homes, and became the Crestline postmaster in 1929. 
 
When the proposal was made to build a dam to make Lake Gregory, Mann was opposed to it.  But once excavation was started, and looked like it might not have enough funding to finish – he lobbied to get it completed.  The lake was completed in 1938.  It filled in three days, due to flood-like rainfall, and quickly became an attraction.  And by 1939, Lake Gregory Drive was built.  This connected the lake, and Crestline Village to another entry point on the new Rim of the World Highway – which happened to come alongside the western edge of Squirrel Inn property – allowing for another potential entrance.
 
 
Footprints of John Baylis & the Squirrel Inn
 
Dr. John N Baylis arrived in San Bernardino in 1887.  He had been a doctor for the Atchinson, Topeka and Santa Fe Railway.  He immediately fell in love with the mountains, but especially the forests.  He loved trees, and as a pioneer he looked for ways to attract others to enjoy the mountains and forests themselves.
 
Much like how John Muir promoted Yosemite, Baylis had a pronounced impact on the development of the San Bernardino Mountains.
 
The Squirrel Inn: In 1889, Baylis had organized a group of investors to purchase 160 acres near Strawberry Flats, which is now Twin Peaks.  He became one of the original founders of the Arrowhead Mountain Club.  It was a private and exclusive social club for well-to-do mountain visitors – which was typical of the era.  Membership was required and members were encouraged to build cabins for extended summer visits, as they saw fit.  They brought up chefs, and chauffeurs – as there were no kitchens in the cabins.  Everyone ate together.  Stables were available to keep livestock.
 
By 1892, as cabins began to be built, and they affectionately called their clubhouse The Squirrel Inn.  The property had extensive stables and barns to accommodate all kinds of animals.  There were cabins to house the chauffeurs.  Vertical tunnels were engineered into the mountain.  They produced an endless supply of water.   In drought years some was even sold in Crestline.  The Squirrel Inn also became a stagecoach stop.
 
While Arrowhead Springs, which was located at the base of Waterman Canyon, was more for healing and medicinal purposes, the Squirrel Inn was upscale, and catered to the “movers and shakers” – to the entrepreneurs.  The focus was on respite, recreation, nature, and enjoying the mountain air. 
 
There were croquet and tennis courts, as well as pool tables.  Activities included horseshoes, croquet, horseback riding, hiking, fishing in local streams, relaxing, and shooting pool.    
 
The events were colorful.  Most anyone heading up the mountain in those days, used it as a point of reference.  What is now CA Highway 189, for a time was referred to as the Squirrel Inn – Strawberry Flats Road.
 
During the building of the Little Bear Creek Dam, most of the cement hauled up went past the Squirrel Inn.  There was the climb up Waterman Canyon to Old Town Crestline (Top Town), and the right turn on Crest Road past Skyland – loosely following Crest Forest Drive.  At Horseshoe Bend there was the last remaining view from the rim of the valley below.  There stood the past homes of Lee’s Café and Garage, The Cliffhanger Restaurant, or Hortencia’s at the Cliffhanger.  Sphinx Rock was a tall rock outcropping next to Lee’s which has been in a few movies.  Nowadays, there is a traffic signal.
 
Then the road took a U-turn as it pivoted away from the rim.  As it went past the entrance to the Squirrel Inn, and past Strawberry Creek, rigs began the struggle up the current CA Highway 189.  They passed Pinecrest, and went on to Twin Peaks and Antlers Inn.  Then, traffic traversed the curvy downhill grade past Blue Jay, down to what would be Lake Arrowhead, with the original Lake Arrowhead Village opening in 1924.
 
Pinecrest: Dr. John N. Baylis was president of the Arrowhead Mountain Club at the Squirrel Inn for ten years.  In 1904, he refused to continue for an eleventh year.  About the same time, he learned that the Smithson Ranch, just on the east side of the Squirrel Inn, was being sold to the Guernsey Lumber Mill.  Baylis wanted to protect the old growth trees, so he borrowed money, and purchased the 160 acres. 
 
John Baylis wanted to protect the forest from being over-logged.  He also wanted to provide a place where the average family could enjoy nature. He developed Pinecrest and its Evergreen Village with this in mind.  The Lyman Stage Line (mule drawn) had its main stables at Pinecrest.  In 1909, he began to promote Pinecrest, and the mountains for vacations.  Today, Pinecrest continues on as a Christian camp.
 
Baylis promoted the mountains to the public.  He worked hard to improve the mountain roads. He, himself, had traversed the mountains as far away as Big Bear, and experienced terrible road conditions.
 
Of course, John Baylis is known as promoting the Rim of the World Highway in 1915 – as a paved “High Gear Road”.  The Rim of the World Drive was 101 miles long and began in downtown San Bernardino and came up the former Arrowhead Reservoir Company Road through Waterman Canyon. 
 
This opened the mountain to personal automobile traffic.  It changed the footprint, but it also became a gateway for countless numbers to more easily enjoy the beauty of the San Bernardino Mountains.
 
 
Footprints within the Squirrel Inn
 
By 1979, when I first saw the Squirrel Inn, it had nearly 90 years to build a footprint.  The entrance, main drive, structures, and bridge mostly defined its heyday.  Yet, decline was evident, and its presence a muted glimpse of its previous glory.  At the time we bought it, the Squirrel Inn resembled more of a forgotten community, than an active resort.
 
Yet, even though parts were a bit tired, it was endearing. It was historical, and it had a story.  I am quite sure that a host of dreams and ideas, some crazy and incomplete, were conjured up within her walls.  It still fascinates me today, to think about it.
 
The Sign: I loved the sign that had been made early on.  It was creative.  Imaginative.  In today’s parlance, it was part of “the branding”.  (Picture)
 
The Layout: The main entrance was off Highway 189.  As guest drove in, the first 100 yards went parallel to Strawberry Creek.  It was picturesque. The cable suspension bridge was in the background.  The supports on either side of the creek gave symmetry to the bowed cables – which enhanced the background of countless “Kodak moments” by our guests.  I suppose today, it would be “selfies”.
 
On the left side of the entrance road were cabins for our guests.  There were four empty foundations, as reminders of the fire that burned the old inn and four of the cabins. To the right of the road and across the creek, were a handful cabins.  These had been chauffer cabins in the early years.  For us they had kitchens and bathrooms, and we used as rentals.
 
As the main drive passes the suspension bridge it makes a hard left turn towards the rear entrance that is near the junction of North Road and Lake Gregory Drive.
 
Immediately after making the turn is the Rec Hall.  It had been the main “inn” for nearly 30 years.  It was rebuilt after a major fire in 1922.  Since, kitchens were added to the cabins, serving meals in the new club house was ended.
 
A beautiful footpath connected the Rec Hall and recreation areas to the main lodge, dining hall, and our home.  I loved walking the grounds.  While for many years, a caretaker lived on the grounds, there was still evidence of past care and effort.  It was so peaceful, even though the sounds of 189 and Lake Gregory Drive were just beyond my sightline. 
 
The structure we lived in was almost stately – with massive chimneys, and a log cabin-type look.  It had an ample great room to serve meals to our guests.  I really loved the feel of it.  Just stepping outside and taking a moment to breathe was refreshing and even inspiring. I feel blessed to have tasted and been a part of its history.
 
In 1929, The Great Depression definitely impacted it.  The property taxes were unable to be paid.  Some of the original members bought it back by paying the back taxes.  Changes were made.  The Squirrel Inn Holding Company was formed.  Cabins were leased to members and they could no long owned individually.  The dining room was closed, and the Club House became a recreational hall. 
 
 
One More Footprint
 
As I think about it, I thank God for all the footprints that went before me.  I feel blessed.  I hope to have left a few of my own.  Hopefully the story in this book is one of them. 

​Calvary Chapel & the Jesus Movement:
 
I am not sure if our time at The Squirrel Inn would have unfolded in the way it did without the backdrop of Calvary Chapel and the Jesus Movement that occurred during the 1970s.
 
When we lived in the valley, I hadn’t heard of Calvary Chapel, or the Jesus Movement.  Yet, I became very aware of the Calvary Chapel Conference Center in Twin Peaks when we moved to the mountain.  And, once we owned the Squirrel Inn, we were less than a mile from it.
 
Having a connection with Calvary Chapels, through the Bible college, was probably the first miracle.  It was through the teaching that I received that I came to expect to see God at work every day.  So, I was intentionally looking for it. 
 
When the Jesus Movement started in the late 1960s, Calvary Chapel was soon a part of it.  When I observed Calvary Chapel first-hand10 years later, I saw a focus that was on simple living through faith, prayer, healing, miracles, and the expository teaching through the Bible.  It was quite clear that they believed that God was actively at work in the world today.
 
Another feature of the Jesus Movement was the music.  Hippy-types wrote songs.  The songs were often direct quotes from the Bible.  During church, young people would stretch out their arms in worship.  Maranatha Music was started in 1971 by Pastor Chuck Smith, who was also the pastor of Calvary Chapel in Costa Mesa, California.
 
After we moved to the mountain in 1975, we attended several churches on the mountain, but we began to hear things about the Calvary Chapel Bible College & Conference Center - which had recently bought the California Teachers’ Association facilities in Twin Peaks.  Access to Bible teaching was, literally, just around the corner from me.
 
We began to check out the Sunday evening services at the conference center.  From what I could see, there was no altar call, yet at the end of each service young people were lining up with questions.  I realized that the perspective was fresh.  I also realized that some of my own questions about God were being answered.  So in 1977, I enrolled in some classes.  
 
While we didn’t regularly start attending the Calvary Chapel church on the mountain until 1980, I had several years of watching people have a daily relationship with God that was vibrant and attractive. 
 
I was also got connected with the pastors, teachers, and leaders who came to the conference center to teach.  This did two things.  It connected me with other like-minded Christians on the mountain.  It also connected me to the growing network of the Calvary Chapels in southern California
 
We stumbled into the ministry.  Because we desperate for cash flow, I looked for ways to make money hosting retreats.  We had a connection with Calvary Chapel, so I approached 66 of them, and away we went. 
 
Calvary Chapel Redlands was the first to book a retreat.  Most of the retreats were for groups of women.
 
 
Fred Dowd:
The first miracle that I really noticed was a contact with Fred Dowd.  He was a realtor and the long-time owner of the Pine Rose Cabins in Twin Peaks.  I would have to say that he was one of those “God appointments”. 
 
As we searched the mountain for acreage to buy and develop, nothing was available.  Fred was a long-term resident on the mountain.  Through his connections, he became aware of a “third-generation of families” that wanted to sell the Squirrel Inn.  It was through an unplanned contact that we even heard that the property might be for sale.  Some might say that it was a coincidence that we ran into Fred, but I believe that God directed our paths to cross that day in 1979 – at the restaurant in Blue Jay. 
 
God used Fred Dowd, and a great price to draw us in.  And, the property just happened to include some historical structures called “The Squirrel Inn”.
 
 
Fire:
The second miracle was God’s protection of the property from the fires in 1979.  Wouldn’t you know it, the day we were planning to go to San Bernardino to close on the purchase of the property, it was burning. 
 
Yet, I believe that God used the fire to turn the heart of the agent to sell us the property.   The agent was starting to have some doubts about the sale.   The fire, and us as willing buyers, seemed to motivate him to complete the sale.
 
 
Glenn & Cindy:
Glenn & Cindy rented a cabin on the Squirrel Inn property.  It was right across the way from us.  Glenn was a butcher by trade, but he started attending the Bible college.  Cindy helped me greatly.  I called her my “angel of light”.  They were willing to volunteer, but we were leery using only volunteers.   As bosses we strongly felt that a “workman was worthy of wages”.   I am not really sure where the money came from, but miraculously we were able to pay Cindy.  In return we got consistent help, clean facilities, and some great cinnamon rolls.   
 
 
One dollar:
Glenn helped us take care of emergencies by being “on call”. Aaron, their son, was five or six years old at the time.  He would often boldly state that when he grew up, he wanted to be the dishwasher at the Squirrel Inn. 
 
For his birthday, he had gotten two dollars in the mail.  He spent a considerable amount of time praying and talking about what he wanted to do with it.  He didn’t want to keep the “gift” just for himself.  He wanted to bless others like he had been blessed. 
 
Arron gave Carson one of the dollars, and the other went to his dad.
 
The gift was inspiring.  It reminded me of the story of “the widow’s mite”.  It spoke to me of service and sacrifice that was being learned at an early age.  I was humbled – and encouraged.
 
 
Stamps:
We desperately needed to send out a mailer for advertising on this one occasion.  This was well before email and social media.  We had everything printed, but there was no money for stamps.  I prayed, but I didn’t know what to do, so I prayed some more. 
 
The next morning, some stamps appeared on our dining room table.  It was exactly the amount that we needed.  To this day, I don’t know where they came from.  But, I do know that they were an answer to prayer. 
  
 
The Guys:
It was curious how it developed.   There was an informal ministry of some of the Bible college students to young men who hung out on “E Street” in San Bernardino.  Most of these guys were hippies and struggled with life.  Since a lot of students had been hippies themselves, they were eager to talk about their own faith in Jesus, and freedom from their own choices.  
 
Some of these guys were brought to the mountain for Bible teaching, counseling, and mentoring.   When we needed extra help at the Squirrel Inn before or after a retreat, we would use some of these guys if they agreed to counseling and mentoring through the Bible college.   As you can imagine, it was not without its challenges, and share of interesting stories.  At times, it was a mess.  But, I did watch these young men struggle to know God and to change.   
 
In doing so, I experienced the miracle of seeing my own desire to be a blessing - come back and bless me in return.  It was a powerful thing to see happen.   Thanks guys.
 
 
The Girls:
At another time, a group of girls rented one of the cabins for a while.  They had found out about the Squirrel Inn through the Bible college.  Their presence brought out a unique twist to my “gift of hospitality”.  Because most of them had had little to no maternal influences while growing up, I was able to mentor these young women.  I was also able to model etiquette and hospitality as I came alongside them.  It wasn’t something that I planned, it just happened.  But doing so, it greatly blessed and encouraged me.
 
 
Water & Wells:
There were three horizontal wells on the property.  They were located about 50 acres from where we lived.  They were gravity-flow-wells, so there was no pump.  We always had good tasting water, and plenty of it.  The wells always ran.  They never dried up.   We never maintained them.  And, I have no idea how they got there. 
 
  
Septic Tanks: 
There were multiple septic tanks on the property – we were told.  We didn’t really know the capacity, or exactly where they were.  This was good because there was no smell to give away their location.  The miracle was that for most of the five years, retreats always seemed to fall every other weekend.  God’s pacing was perfect.  We never had an issue with the septic system.  I’m sure things could have been catastrophic if there had been a backup during a retreat.     
 

Inspirational Views: 
Within a short walk of our house, there were three scenic vistas.  The view to the south looked out over the San Bernardino Valley.  A small piece of the property was next to The Cliffhanger Restaurant.  On clear days, especially around sunset, we could see Catalina Island off to the west.
 
On the North Road side of the property we could see Mt. Baldy – which was due west.  The mountain was spectacular as towering pines framed its snow covered peak.
 
Then, just further up North Road, the desert and the town of Hesperia could easily been seen on the northern side of the mountain range.  I loved to wander around the property and see the beautiful cedars when I needed a break. 
 
God used the spectacular views to inspire me and minister deep into my soul.   I was able to hear God. There was something miraculous about being rejuvenated by the whistling of the wind, the swaying of a massive pine cone, or even the antics of a gray squirrel.  It refreshed as it brought peace and perspective to my soul.
 
 
Green noodles: 
From time to time we got food donations.  These helped a lot with our budget.  There was one source that regularly provided dry goods for our pantry on behalf of one of our helpers, Linda, and her young son.  The source was from a major food company.   As a result, we had a seemingly endless supply of green noodles.  We never exactly knew what they were made of – but the noodles were often God’s provision for a starch. 
 
Linda was also a great help in organizing and filing records.  During some of our legal issues, Linda’s hard work was a blessing.  Thanks Linda.
 
 
Orange Plastic Chairs:
We desperately needed chairs to accommodate larger groups.  A conference center just so happened to be getting rid of some.  The timing was just when we needed them.  They were orange, and they were plastic.  They worked, and we were thankful.   
 
 
The Envelope:
Our whole family was excited because our youngest son, Steve, was getting married.  The wedding was being held at the Squirrel Inn, but not everyone in our family could be there.  Steve’s older brother, Dan, didn’t have any money to buy an airline ticket from Florida.  We didn’t have any extra cash either.  So, I prayed and asked God for a miracle.
 
A couple of days later, I was walking by the office when I noticed an envelope pinned to the door.  In the envelope was $500.00.  It was enough for Dan to buy a ticket and come to the wedding.  Thank you Lord.
 
 
The Big Green Trash Bag: 
Donations of clothing and such were always greatly appreciated.  It happened periodically.  Bags would get dropped off at our office.  The “Big Green Trash Bag” was extra special though.  I will always remember it.  Inside of the bag were clothing items in sizes that fit both Cindy and me.   Now THAT was a miracle.
 
 
A Second Fire:
Wildfires were a constant threat after a long hot dry summer.   We were always alert to fire hazards in the cabins.  Unfortunately, one of the cabins caught on fire and burned, but we were able to get it put out before it could spread.  But, it certainly made everyone much more vigilant in the future.
 
 
The Final Escrow:
I think we all hope for transitions in life to be smooth and painless.   We want things to end on a positive note – with everyone being happy and content.  We don’t like change when it comes with uncertainty and loss.  But, often transitions can be bumpy – and a bit stormy. 
 
Our final days at The Squirrel Inn were not pleasant.  We needed cash flow.  Our assets were tied up in the property.  We were facing bankruptcy.  Part of this was due to the misdeeds of one of our financial partners.  Part was due to not being able to develop or sell any of the five-acre lots like we had intended.  We needed either “Chapter 11” – bankruptcy protection, or we needed to sell the whole thing.  There were only two options.  We were running out of time.
 
It was a Friday, and foreclosure was to be finalized on the following Wednesday.  We had a “potential” buyer at the last minute.  The initial offer was not close, and neither were our beliefs.   I was sad and grieving.  
 
Carson didn’t know what to do.  Being the consummate salesman, he had his doubts.  So, we walked around Lake Gregory and talked about our options.  To hear Carson tell it, “God tapped me on the shoulder and said you want to leave with money or without?”
 
On Monday, we met again with the buyer.  Five hours later we got what we needed, and we were able to break even from the whole experience.
 
It was a 10-day escrow.  We had had two retreats and a wedding – just days before.  Then, we had several intense days of “dickering”.  And, now we had 10 days to move ourselves and nine renters.  But, the sale was completed, and we did not make, nor lose, during our first ten years on the mountain.
 
It was a reminder that God was in control, and that our time at The Squirrel Inn was just for a season.   
    
 
Finally: The Weaving of the Web:  
                 
Lately, I have been thinking a lot about the “miracles” and the “web of connections” that came from living and working up on the mountain.  I see the impact of The Squirrel Inn as being like a web which had spread throughout the United States. 
 
Life and ministry have continued on since we left The Squirrel Inn in1985.  Networks have expanded.  Ministries have grown.  Lives have been touched.
 
I am amazed when I look back.  As a business venture, our time at The Squirrel Inn was a bust.  We really never met any of our business goals.  But, as a spiritual adventure, the impact upon me, my family, and those we served – it was priceless. 
 
The ripple effect of those years continues today.  God is still at work. 
 
Hopefully, years later, God’s story of The Squirrel Inn impacts your life as well.