ADVENTURE AWAITS
After weeks of nervous anticipation, the July departure date arrived. I joined a friend and her parents on the three-hour drive to our destination. The camp was situated in a picturesque, treed area by a freshwater Saskatchewan lake. It was a sight to behold for a kid who, until that point, had seldom left the farm. Campers were welcomed at an opening ceremony.
ACCOMMODATIONS
We stayed in large, white canvas pole tents set up over round wooden platforms. There were four female campers per tent, and the male campers were assigned to a different area. Luckily, two of my friends from home were in the same tent as me.
I guess I didn’t get the memo, as I just brought a sleeping bag but no foam or air mattress to go underneath it. My parents wanted me to be warm enough, so I brought my dad’s green army sleeping bag. Stuffed into its matching duffle bag, it was almost as tall as I was, and I could barely get my arms around it. To top it off, it had an itchy, scratchy grey wool lining, the texture of steel wool.
Buildings and shelters for various uses were scattered amongst the trees throughout the camp.
CAMP COUNSELLORS
Each group of campers had designated supervisors known as camp counsellors, usually alums in their late teens. We were in awe of them; they seemed so cool. We imagined one day ascending to this prestigious rank.
In the evening, after they herded the campers to bed, the counsellors sat around the campfire. Of course, being teenagers with raging hormones, a few summer romances blossomed. Us kids would peek through the cracks in our tent doors and watch them sitting close together. We found this very entertaining, and even as preteens, we knew some of those counsellors were hotter than our sunburns.
CAMPFIRE CLASSICS
In the evening, we sat on logs around a bonfire. Illuminated by the light of the flickering flames, we belted out the repetitive refrain of songs like “Alice the Camel” and “You Can’t Get to Heaven”. Those songs are forever imprinted into my brain; there's no getting them out. Hopefully, if I lose my memory one day, they will be the first to go. Telling ghost stories was another popular activity that hours later impeded our slumber.
HOMESICK
I was prone to bouts of homesickness whenever I stayed overnight somewhere, but I had pushed those fears to the back of my mind. If my friends were jumping off the proverbial bridge, I was jumping too.
Things are usually good for people who get homesick until the sun goes down; then, things can go south faster than a Canada goose in October.
The first night, I spread my sleeping bag out on the wooden floor with my clothes bag nearby. I was all set up, but I was homesick and couldn't sleep. I cried as I started to write a letter home using the light from a little flashlight that I had. I began my letter… Dear Mom and Dad….
When I woke the next morning, the pen and paper were beside me with that one line done. I was so exhausted that I had fallen asleep before I could write anymore. Writing home was silly because you got home before the letter arrived, but doing it made kids feel better.
One of my tent mates told me years later that her dad said to turn on her flashlight inside her sleeping bag, and she wouldn’t be scared. I didn’t know she was homesick too. I thought it was just me.
A few attendees went home during the camp. They could not handle the lonely nights, so their parents were summoned to pick them up. I remember the image of a boy sitting alone in the back seat of his parents’ car as it slowly passed by where I stood with a group of curious onlookers. Embarrassed, he looked down, unable to meet our gazes. You would have thought he was guilty of a crime and was being hauled off to lock up! Poor little bugger.
The Hubs attended a different summer camp. Family lore has it that he was homesick, a charge he vehemently denies. He is athletic, loves outdoor pursuits, and enjoyed summer camp, even though he claims he didn’t because he couldn’t swear.
ACTIVITIES
There were daily organized activities to keep us busy. These included outdoor games, an obstacle course, map and compass reading, swimming lessons and crafts.
To this day, I am not much of a joiner. I think I blocked out our activities during the skills and team-building sessions, as the recollection eludes me. They probably involved free-falling trust exercises, climbing a rope and rope burns and the ever-popular tug of war.
On nature craft day, we were encouraged to show our creative side by using natural materials to make a craft. I glued a pinecone to a small piece of wood and printed the date below in black felt pen. I even varnished this artistic masterpiece. It was a treasure I inexplicably kept for years.
Craft made by another camper.
I took swimming lessons and remember being in the dark water. A three-sided wooden dock sat parallel to the beach, and our lessons were held inside that area. It seemed windy and cold for every class, with the waves lapping over my head as I gasped for air; it was unpleasant. I did not get my swim badge.
Survival skill exercises were another learning activity provided. Today, the word survival is often replaced by wilderness for marketing purposes. I suppose “survival” implies that if you don’t master the skills, you won’t make it out. An image of a camper in survival mode crawling along the forest floor, drinking water out of a mud puddle, is slightly less marketable than the one “wilderness” inspires of an environment rich in wildlife, crystal clear lakes, lush forests and endless blue sky.
CHOW TIME
Meals were served in the mess hall. We lined up to get our food and dined at long wooden tables. When we were done, we lined up again to wash our plates, cups and utensils in the communal dish and rinse pans. We pushed the dead horseflies floating in the water aside, did the task and then stacked everything on racks to air dry.
I remember getting porridge and butter toast for breakfast, but I don’t recall jam being on the menu. I probably thought about the cellar full of jam we had at home. Other meals were big-batch items like soups, stews, hot dogs and chilli. Beverages offered included water, weak juice made from a powdered mix and lukewarm “hot” chocolate. When we arrived we could deposit cash at the registration desk, to spend on snacks at the canteen, which was open at certain times.
THERE’S NO DENYING THAT FEELING
Every night, by the time I finally settled my sad feelings down and was drifting off to sleep, my eyes would slowly open. I’d find myself staring into the darkness, trying not to think about the fact that I had to go to the bathroom.
There’s no denying that feeling, and I eventually got up. I had to walk by the counsellors sitting around the campfire; they turned silently to stare at me as I stumbled by in the dim light in my jammies. I had no flashlight battery left as I had not shut it off the night of the letter-writing incident.
LIVING WITH NATURE HANDS-ON AND UP CLOSE
At the midpoint of the camp, we were informed we were going on an overnight survival hiking trip into the wilderness. Fabulous. This fun little activity was possibly mentioned in the brochure, but seriously, who reads the fine print on those things?
If I had been clever enough, I would’ve gone to the infirmary with a fake injury to get out of going, but I was not.
We had to bring our sleeping gear and extra clothing. This meant carrying that monstrous sleeping bag through the bush with the rest of my stuff on my back. The hike was three miles each way (it felt much longer) on a narrow path cut through the underbrush that was uphill both ways.
It was a challenge as I struggled to keep that sleeping bag from getting tangled in the shrubbery. It was slow going, but several hours later, we arrived at our destination, a small clearing beside a swiftly flowing creek. It had been described to us as a winding stream that flowed lazily between tall pine trees.
We then received a crash course on how to build ourselves a shelter. We used branches for the frame, covered that with a piece of plastic, and laid spruce boughs on top to keep the rain and wind out.
We helped the counsellors cook a meagre supper. We were shown how to make a sweet treat - chocolate-covered ants. One of the counsellors busted open a rotten log and black ants spilled out. They were collected in a pot, put over the fire and when they were crispy, chocolate was added. Kids today don’t know how lucky they are to have fruit snacks.
When darkness descended, I climbed into my little shelter, where I had set up my sleeping bag and pillow. I lay there, listening to the sounds of the night, trying to will myself into a deep sleep, from which I prayed I would not awake until morning.
You guessed it, a short time later, I realized I had to go to the bathroom. Going in the bush was even scarier than at the main camp. After that refreshing walk, I shimmied back into my sleeping bag, but it was so cold I could see my breath. Sleep evaded me; it was a long night.
The next day, we lugged our belongings back; my sleeping bag was damp, which made it even heavier. I was happy to return to the pole tent with the wood floor. I could’ve kissed it. Everything in life is relevant; the tent felt posh after sleeping on the cold, damp ground.
BREAKING THE RULES
At sleepover camp, there are always kids who break the rules. One morning at breakfast, the camp director was not happy. He informed us that the previous night, someone had thrown rolls of toilet paper down the toilets. No, it wasn't me, pinkie swear.
He was very upset about this wastefulness, and in his anger, he told us to "use your fingers and have fun,”implying that we were cut off toilet paper. After he stomped off, we sat there with our mouths hanging open and our minds racing, trying to figure out what we would do without this basic necessity. His ire must’ve abated, as I don't recall not having toilet paper to use after that unfortunate episode.
The Hubs apparently had a mischievous side as a child, so when I asked him if he had any stories to share from his summer camp experience, and he said no, I eyed him skeptically.Days later, he cracked and spilled the tea. A pillow fight he was participating in turned nasty when one boy, not him, pinkie swear, put a rock in his pillowcase and hit another camper on the opposing team. The counsellors swiftly broke up the ensuing physical altercation. The Hubs didn't know what happened to the guy with the rock in his pillowcase as he never saw him after that; he assumed he was sent home.
Another time, The Hubs and his accomplices spotted a squirrel scooting down a tree. They brazenly picked up sticks and approached the beast. As luck would have it, at that precise moment, a counsellor came by and hollered at them to cease their advances on the creature. Obviously, they had forgotten to assign a lookout; what amateurs. I bet the toilet paper villain at my camp had a lookout!
The consequence of this transgression was digging a new section onto the garbage pit. The Hubs described it as basically moving dirt around.
CLOSING DAY
When the day to go home arrived there was a closing ceremony and award presentations. I was a tad sad to bid my new friends farewell, but I was the first one in the car. I wasn't taking any chances; I could always make more friends.
I have gone camping many times since this experience, but I still would rather be at home in my bed when night falls.
At that tender age, I wasn’t entrusted with the family camera and a precious roll of film, so unfortunately, I don't have pictures to share. It’s better that some things that happen at camp stay at camp anyway. If that were today, my grubby, tear-stained face would be splashed across social media. We didn't miss cell phones and the internet. Cell phones had only been invented the year before and the dawning of the internet age was ten years in the future.
TRY ANYTHING ONCE
Looking back, we were so young and innocent. I didn't realize at the time that I was privileged to go to summer camp.
Although my homesickness subsided as the days passed, that was the only summer camp I ever attended. I went, I experienced it, and then I was good. I didn't even go on our high school outdoor education canoe trip. It was too soon.
All jokes aside, summer camp was a good experience; it got me out of my comfort zone. I realized I could be tough and stick with something even if it was hard.
I learned some useful life lessons including:
- always pack jam, extra toilet paper and batteries
- not to consume liquids before bedtime
- pack a sleeping bag you can carry in case you decide to make a break for it!
Does the impulse to do something that we don’t even want to do, just because our friends are doing it, ever truly leave us?
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