How I Drank Crystal Lake: SOC's Visit To The Friday The 13th 7 Shooting Location

The Pack (a tightly knit, hard partying group of absolute degenerates that I am proud to call my closest friends) spent last weekend drinking, doing drugs, and having sex in close proximity to Crystal Lake… and we all lived to tell the tale.  You could even say that those cursed waters that spawned the most prolific masked psycho in horror history are now a part of me.  Here’s how it went down.

The family of one of the Pack members owns a trailer in a place known as Camp Paw & All in Stockton, Alabama.  We decided a road trip was necessary, and this seemed like a grand destination to do the kinds of things that keep people from surviving slasher flicks.  While we were researching things to do in the area, Leah discovered that Friday the 13^th Part 7: The New Blood had been filmed in Bay Minette, a machete’s throw from where we were staying.  It was perfect timing too; just a week before an actual Friday the 13th.  Needless to say, as far as I was concerned, this became the focal point of the trip.   

What it looked like in the movie.

After a night that will not be discussed for fear of incrimination we headed out Saturday afternoon to find Byrnes Lake, Part 7’s Crystal Lake stand in.  When we arrived, we discovered that not much is left of the shooting location.  The Shepherd’s house, where Lar Park Lincoln had her legendary freak-outs, is obviously not there.  It was blown to smithereens during the film’s climax.  The water table has changed at the location, and the spot where it stood is now submerged.  The party house was just a shell and was removed years ago.  What is still there is the dock where Tina’s dead father drug Kane Hodder to a watery grave.  It’s been remodeled a bit, but it’s the same pier alright.  I love visiting shooting locations, and this one was positively awesome.  It was just a really cool spot.  There were a couple of trucks, but their occupants were nowhere to be found.  That definitely added to the ambiance.  We shot an intro segment for the Son of Celluloid youtube show (debuting later this year) and just hung out for a while; taking turns donning the hockey mask, hacking things with my machete, and discussing what order Jason would kill us in.  As we watched the sunset over Crystal Lake, I decided to take a bottle of the water, which we all agreed was truly disgusting, as a souvenir.  We eluded Jason for the rest of the weekend even after standing on the dock and crying out for him to come get us, but that’s not why I make the claim of being tougher than Mr. Voorhees.  Oh no, it gets better.

What it looks like now.

Fast forward to the next morning.  After a night of heavy…no, heavy doesn’t cut it.  Severe?  No, still too soft.  After a night of apocalyptic drinking, I awoke with a mighty need for hydration.  I rolled over and asked Leah if we had any water.  Groggy herself, she handed me the one I had left beside the bed.  I promptly downed the whole thing and slipped back into oblivion.  A few hours later it was time to leave.  As we gathered our belongings I began searching for my prized keepsake from Crystal Lake.  When we couldn’t find it, the realization hit that the water she had given me wasn’t our drinking water.  It had been the lake water.  That also meant that, due to the lack of running water (it’s a long story), Leah had brushed her teeth with it.

This was the same water that put an end (well, until the boat to Manhattan) to the onslaught of the mighty Jason Voorhees.  He was zombie Jason by that point, so he didn’t breathe.  This means that he didn’t drown, and the water didn’t actually end up inside of him.  No, he went down to the sheer power of the water itself.  I trumped him by chugging an entire one-liter bottle of that very water and suffering no ill effects.  I drink the stuff that puts Jason down.  This leads me to one conclusion; I, Nathan Hamilton, the Son of Celluloid, am a bigger badass than Jason f**king Voorhees.  Argue with my logic if you want, but I know the truth.  I can survive drinking it and he can’t even take a dip in it.  Thanks to my visit to that hallowed shooting location, I can now lay claim to the title of  “undisputed baddest sumbitch in Camp Crystal Lake.”  Just please, whatever you do, don’t tell Jason I said that.  I don’t want to, um… hurt his feelings.  Yeah, that’s it.  So there's my story.  Happy Friday the 13th, Cellmates!