Sleepaway Camp

It’s summer and maybe, like me, you find yourself wistful for the sleepaway camp from your youth. I spent five or six summers in the northern woods of Ontario, sleeping in a tent, paddling and portaging across cool, dark lakes, and bonding with 50 other young girls. It was idyllic and formative.

Camp is more than memories, for me it was full of defining experiences.

I found my voice. Now any of my three kids would tell you that I cannot sing, cannot carry a tune. But when I was 12 and singing songs to grace every meal and to send off and welcome canoe trips, I had a voice and it was bold and joyful.?

I found my strength. Literally. We had to paddle across large lakes for hours, portage and carry our own gear. I went to Northway Lodge for the first time when I was nine. I did all of that my first summer. I had paddle blisters and hiking boot blisters. And for the first time I felt the power of movement and in being strong.

I found community and realized I carried it with me. That first summer, maybe it was 1979 - I arrived for my month away knowing no one. The Canadian Postal Service was on strike. I couldn’t receive or send any mail. And there was no phone at camp. I remember feeling so alone and lonely at times. But I leaned in, I made friends, and created a little community for myself. This I still do, I create the community I need.

I learned that paddling was a team endeavor, not a me project. Opeongo is the largest lake in Algonquin Park. It’s a grueling paddle, and gorgeous at the same time. At my camp, we paddled three to a canoe with a bow(wo)man and middle paddler kneeling and paddling on the same side, and the stern paddling on the other. Every stroke was synchronized - three paddles in, out, around, and back in together. It was spectacular to be a part of, beautiful in its coordination.?

And I fell in love - with woods, with green, with water. I grew up in St. Louis, Missouri. It’s beautiful in many ways, but at camp I found forests, lakes, and almost as many shades of green as my current home in the (US) Pacific Northwest. I can still smell the wet pine needles that padded the paths through camp, and I still find my peace on the water.

I am long past my summer sleepaway camp days, and so too are my kids. But every year at this time I still feel a heart-tug to sleep under the stars, to sing freely at campfires, to cut a boat through a flat lake. Maybe I’ll make it to alumni weekend one year, but for now I accept that while I may not be at Northway Lodge, the camp is with me.