About 60 miles north of Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, there is a collection of former Kern County sheriff's deputies who have either retired there or spend their summers there.

They live in Hope, Idaho, on Lake Pend Oreille (pondoray), a 148-square mile, ear-shaped  (French meaning of Pend Oreille), deep blue lake (more than 1,150 feet deep) with scenery that will knock your socks off.

It has an island just for bald and golden eagles.

Some deputies live on a peninsula in the lake which is affectionally known as Beyond Hope.

They include some names you've read about in The Californian — former homicide Sgt. Glenn Johnson, homicide detective Jim Christopherson, Lt. Dave Merritt, and Commanders Jack Campbell and Frank Williams.

Instead of protecting our lives, they are out living their lives to the fullest.

Glenn and his wife, Vicki, a former Kern County coroner's investigator, live in a two-story house on a hill in the peninsula where deer — bucks, does and fawn — gather in the front lawn for treats such as corn or watermelon rinds they sometimes eat out of your hands.

A dozen wild turkeys also wander by for treats.

The "Do Not Feed the Deer" signs are really meant for people who don't know how to give healthy food to the wildlife on this peninsula game preserve.

Some other deputies that hang out up there are Sgt. Monte True and his wife, detective Carol Muse; Cmdr. Craig Hatfield and his wife, Gayla; Deputy Dennis Wilson who can make a saxaphone rock you to your soul; Merritt's wife, Irene, a former deputy; Christopherson's wife, Debbie, and Campbell's wife, Pat, both a former Kern County Superior court clerks.

Other deputies come up and visit them. That's what my wife, Mary, and I did, as we stayed five days at the Johnsons. On Monday when we got there, I was wondering if we would have enough to do. By Friday, we were exhausted from doing and doing.

The Campbells took us for a tour to the hillside homes of the Christophersons and the Hatfields, both with stunning views and along the paths where moose and elk might wander by. We went out on Campbell's Bayliner, and Christopherson's fishing boat (Mary caught 5, I caught 4), Wilson's houseboat (good place to sip Wildfire Whiskey).

We had an nighttime,  ice cream social (huckleberry and kahlua) at the Johnsons where Wilson played the sax, and one of his friends played the keyboards. Jack Campbell led us in the chicken dance. I was surprised. Not something you expect from a former SWAT commander.

Monte True talked about a woman whose house was damaged in a storm. Without being asked, people went over there and fixed it. She was a neighbor and that was plenty enough reason.

Of all the places on earth, how did everyone gather in this one? Campbell's dad lived there a long time. True bought property years ago. As people visited, they learned to  like the place.

Those partaking in this ghetto life had one resounding message for the rest of humanity.  Don't move there. It's awful. They hope people who live there move away so that home prices drop like a rock.  They mean,  "Who wants to be bothered by all that scenery and wildlife. "  Icky, icky.

Posted by Steve E. Swenson