CONTEST: We want your Summer Camp tales!
There are Summer Camp people, and then there are non-camp people.
I fall into the latter category. When I was a kid, I never attended a real summer camp. I went to a few day camps where we played games in a park and splashed around in the city swimming pool, but by mid-afternoon I was back home with my friends, riding bikes around the neighborhood and playing pickup baseball games until time to go home for dinner.
My wife and her sisters went to a month-long camp in North Carolina over several summers when they were kids, and tell stories of an idyllic mountain retreat where they rode horses, paddled canoes on a lake, sang songs and performed skits around a campfire, ate meals in a dining hall and slept on bunk beds in rustic cabins.
It sounds, to me, like Kid Heaven.
So, if you attended a summer camp, we’d like to hear your stories about your most treasured camp memories. Why did you love camp? What were your favorite and least favorite activities? Do you still keep in touch with friends from camp? Did summer camp teach you any valuable life lessons? Do you send your own kids to camp during the summer?
June 1 marked the starting line for our summer vacation story contest. Every two weeks, we’ll focus on a different category of vacation memories.
This week, you can post your Summer Camp story to this blog in the comments section below. Next Monday, we’ll pick three finalists and let readers decide whose is best.
And the prizes?
Each bi-weekly winner will get to see his or her story published in Sunday’s AJC travel pages and become a finalist for a grand prize getaway to a Florida resort. The prize is valued at $800.
So if you think you have a winning tale, go for it.
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20 comments Add your comment
CONTEST: The winner of Vegas Nights travel stories - Mistaken Identity | Still Traveling
July 27th, 2009
12:21 pm
[...] This week’s topic: We want your Summer Camp stories! [...]
Atlanta Girl
July 27th, 2009
12:57 pm
As a kid, I was a girl scout and one summer I went to camp with my sister for a week. We did girly activities and the other girls cried all week to go home they were so homesick. I didn’t get what all the fuss was about. To say the least I never went back to girl scout camp.
Boy Scout camp, on the other hand was way better! The summer after my sophomore year in college my boyfriend at the time had convinced me to work as a counselor at a local boy scout camp, Woodruff Scout Reservation. He had worked there for several years and they way he talked about all the cool activities – swimming, tubing, rafting, hiking, riflry, teaching – oh and there were boys! Staff boys! With a ratio of about one girl to every 15 staff boys the odds were looking good.
Summer camp was fun and beautiful. Woodruff is nestled in the mountains of North Georgia near Blairsville. My cabin all three summers was on the small private lake that belonged to the camp. During off times I could watch sail boats, fisherboys, waterskiers, and the crazy chaos of the swimming area. The sunlight up there was perfect for summer – bright, clear, and warm. In my memory, my favorite part of camp was the way the water glittered on a clear day and the green in the valley around the lake was so verdant it felt like heaven.
Did I mention there were boys? Little boys, skinny boys, screaming boys, cute boys. There were several campers in my classes that were more memorable than others for various reasons usually associated with how much disciple I had to give them. One counselor on the waterfront staff as me my second year, post-boyfriend, was the most memorable. He was tall, tan, with brown hair and eyes like chocolate pools. Somehow I noticed that we keep following each other around. I would save a seat for him and he one for me whereever the staff was meeting. One bright moonlit night on the bridge over the lake we had that conversation.
“Do you like someone at camp?”
“Yes”
“Is it Sam?”
“No! It’s you silly!”
That is how I met my husband and how I had the best three summers of my life . . . at Boy Scout Camp.
zoe
July 27th, 2009
1:21 pm
I attended a Salvation Army camp in Upstate New York for 9 summers. The camp sessions only lasted 1 week, but once I was old enough, I worked at camp for the whole summer. I spent 7 summers working at summer camp.
The camp I attended was a traditional camp with space for about 150 campers. One set of cabins had a community shower and restrooms. Those cabins were usually assigned to boys. The other two sets of cabins had bathrooms and showers inside. It is located on one of the finger lakes and we could take our campers out on a pontoon boat or canoeing. Canoeing was always fun, but it seems that every day one summer I had to swim out after a canoe that went too far or the campers lost their oars. The camp had a pool, the undertow of the lake made it too dangerous for a dedicated swimming area. That allowed for cabins that won special awards to go “night swimming.” Of course we had campfires and I still remember the dozens of camp songs I learned over 25 years ago when I was a camper. Those songs are still sung today. Our camp has a Facebook group page with hundreds of members, there are people on there that I haven’t seen in 15 years, but we still message back and forth. I’ve told many people, camp is much more fun for the staff than the campers. We had a night watch set up so that three of the nine counselors in a cabin group had duty and the other six were off. We were allowed off property to go to town as long as we were back by curfew. We would go to town and play “Fire Drill” with multiple cars, visit the local cemetery and scare ourselves silly or just cruise the back roads. Staff trips on our days off included Niagara Falls, Boston and Maine. One of my friends met his wife at camp and even though they are both from England, they had their wedding at camp! Another friend just had her kids come back from the same camp we went to as kids and even though camp has changed over the years, they loved it! Just as we did when we were campers and staff.
Kelly
July 27th, 2009
2:19 pm
A Little Piece of Heaven
Kid Heaven is definitely an accurate description of my summer camp experience! In fact, one of the songs that is sung each Friday night at closing ceremonies says “a little piece of heaven there nestled in the pines, it’s a home away from home to me.” I met the man of my dreams, who happened to be named Kelly as well, at Camp High Harbour on Lake Burton. Now we share the same first and last name.
I started going to camp the summer after 4th grade. It was incredible – 2 weeks of watersports, running around in the woods, playing games like Capture the Counselor, camping out, making friends, and learning about God. It is defintely the place where kids can just be kids. I loved it, and kept going to camp there until I was old enough to be a counselor and then a program director. In all I spent 11 summers of my life there and finally had to give it up when I was 21 to get a “real job.”
The most important thing I got from camp would have to be my husband! We had know each other and worked together for years, but we started dating the summer after my sophomore year of college at UGA. He had just graduated that semester from UGA as well and was off to start his career, but not before one last hoorah at camp! He already had a job lined up for the Fall, so he had it made. He started the summer off with some pick up line about us having the same name if we got married… who knew! We dated for 3 years until he pulled off a proposal on the waterfront at where else but camp. We were married in November of 2006, and we just had our first child, a sweet baby boy, 6 weeks ago today.
We are both actually still involved with the camp. My husband is on the board for the organizatinon and won their Volunteer of the year of the award for 2008. We tell everyone we know about this place and our children will definitely be going there. It is incredible how much kids love this place and how they are dying to go back year after year. The counselors are trained so well and have such a passion for fun and serving the kids. The whole experience teaches kids so many important things – everything from how to have fun and be crazy to having confidence in yourself and learning about God. I know that both my husband and I attribute a lot of who we are to camp because of all that we learned and experienced there. I am so thankful that I was able to talk my parents into sending me there all those years ago!
Shari Heinz
July 28th, 2009
7:54 pm
In the year leading up to my first time at camp as a scout, the troop worked to sell items to be able to afford the 2 weeks. We were all about 12 years old and some of us had never been away for a day, so 2 weeks was going to be an Adventure.
I selected 2 weeks in the middle of the entire summer, which meant that girls going there for longer stays would have formed friendships and tent mates.
I remember the meeting at the firehouse for drop off, getting on to the bus and riding it to up-state New York somewhere, having to walk, over a bridge, down a long trial, past the pit toilets and all the tents on platforms dragging my gear. We spent meals in the main canteen, rotating tasks daily of table setup, clean up and dishes, there was not getting out of your responsibilities. Camp fires and swimming in a lake.
On one group hike, we carried our sleeping bags and some other gear, needed for an easy sleepover at the lean to, about a mile or so up the trail. As we started out, the counselors were not sure of the trail blazes to follow and the group got split up. Soon we came to the shelter, but it was already occupied by other hikers. Meanwhile it started to rain and while waiting for the rains to let up, a fire was started in the fireplace. As the rock heated up a big black snake that was resting on the chimney rocks soon felt the warmth of the fire and dropped off right onto the shoulders of one of the counselors who scream and danced about in an attempt to get the snake off her. It was quickly decided that we could not stay there with the other hikers or the snake, so it was back on the trails; soon we were hopelessly lost and just walking about. As dusk started to set in, we came to an opening that had a few yellow buses parked. It happened to be another camp. We were told to board the buses and wait. Some of the seat cushions were missing and we had to rest on the metal frames or against the wall until our camp was notified and the buses were sent for us. Wet and tired some of use slept. The bus arrived what seemed like hours later along with a few counselors and their cars. As we divided up into groups and got into the bus and cars, we thought the adventure was over, but for some it was just beginning. As two of the car get into an accident and several of the campers spent the night at hospital. After that we were not allowed on any other group activities that meant the counselors taking us out of camp, the rest of the time left was devoted to letters to home, crafts and swimming in a Safe area pen.
To say the least, I never when back to that camp or another.
Derek Jackson
July 29th, 2009
4:14 am
One Word:
Manbird
Patrick
July 29th, 2009
1:45 pm
Kelly O….of course you had to be one of the first to comment on here. Hope your baby is doing well. I’ll have to make my way over to visit sometime. Miss you guys!
Jordan
July 29th, 2009
2:05 pm
I went to camp at YMCA Camp Piomingo in Kentucky. My first year there was when I was 7 years old. My brothers had both been the summer before (when I was too young, technically!) and I was so jealous I couldn’t see straight. When I finally got to go, I went for two weeks. My first counselor, Chris, was the guy from the camp counselor poem – running in the cabin in the middle of the night, in a tutu waking us up telling us we’re going to do something. He made it perfect. So much so that I kept returning each summer and later became a CIT and a staff member. All in all 13 wonderful summers spent at Piomingo. While I had a great time as a camper, it was the reward of making a positive impact in the life of a child that I value most from my years as a counselor, aquatics director, program director…etc.
The memory that always sticks out in my mind (aside from all the funny ones) is the time I stayed over the weekend to be a counselor for a specialty camp. We normally had the weekends off, but I volunteered to work that weekend for some reason. The weekend was the V.I.P.S. Camp – Visually Imparied Pre-Schoolers, for visually impaired kids, their siblings and parents, in 1992. Most of the kids were totally blind, or at least had such impairments that they could only determine light and darkness. It was definitely a challenge to constantly remind myself that my normal physical comedy antics wouldn’t be such a hot sell to this crowd. We did all of the big ticket camp items that weekend: mudslide, caving (where I was reminded how awesome these kids were again), swimming, arts and crafts, etc. It was in arts and crafts that for the first time I could put myself in their shoes. I did a painted rock with a camper (Jamie) who was born blind. He was awesome. I asked him, in my blunt/honest style, how were we going to do this (he was 9 going on 30). He just told me to describe the colors to him. I know it sounds like a scene in a movie, but there we sat under the large maple tree that hangs over the multi-colored, tattered, “Arts-N-Crafts” cabin, as I described colors to him and let him choose which ones he wanted to use. He ended up with a fresh cut grass, hot sunny day, cinnamon, popsicle colored rock. And I ended up learning a lot from a kid.
Sarah Dasher Watton
July 29th, 2009
2:15 pm
I went to Camp Illahee for girls in beautiful Brevard, North Carolina for several wonderful summers. Every spring, I would spend hours poring over the camp brochure, carefully selecting which courses I would be enjoying during my three weeks in North Carolina. Seventh grade year, I was bored by the prospect of tie-dying tees and sculpting clay doo dads for yet another summer in Arts & Crafts. I wanted to try something exciting, something different (and not as scary as say, rockclimbing or whitewater rafting). One of the more peculiar options was a class called “Printmaking”, in which girls would learn to “handcraft stationery and other printed items” using an old-fashioned Platen printing press.
In June, I found myself amidst a small circle of campers surrounding a medieval looking iron contraption in the dark basement of a camp lodge. As the counselor explained how the press worked, I began to seriously doubt my decision to spend my afternoons in this manner. However, I soon learned to enjoy the methodical process of setting letters and shapes into the type mold and locking them into the press to be flattened against sheets of paper. I also liked the teamwork required to operate the press: one girl in charge of loading the type mold into the press, while another turned the wheel that drove the plates together.
These two steps were intended to be done independently of one another, but I had the unfortunate occasion to learn firsthand what happens when done in tandem. You see, one afternoon, a younger camper was partnered with me to turn the wheel. She was somehow distracted, and began to turn the wheel before I had fully extracted myself from loading in a mold. In slow motion, I watched the edges of the plates biting down toward my suddenly vulnerable looking hands. And narrowly missing escape, I felt the most excruciating pain my 13-year-old self had ever known as the iron clamped down on my right index finger.
The agony was so intense that I proceeded to pass out in the dank basement, only to awake in the arms of the counselor selflessly carrying me up the hill to the infirmary. The camp nurse cheerfully splinted my throbbing finger and sent me on my way with a warning to keep it elevated as much as possible. This required a lot of walking around appearing as if I was aimlessly pointing into the distance. By supper that night in the dining hall, my freak accident and bizarre new pointer stance had become the center of camp attention. And to add further insult, my bunkmates rolled mercilessly on the cabin floor in laughter as my counselor tied my splint with string to the bed coils above my lower bunk so that I could of course keep my injured digit aloft. It wasn’t until August, while boating on my hometown lake, that the mangled nail fell off. Conveniently, in front of my entire youth group. I’ve stuck to humdrum Arts & Crafts ever since.
James
July 29th, 2009
3:40 pm
I am a Scoutmaster for a Boy Scout Troop. I took my scouts to Woodruff Scout Resevation this year. Usually the first day is very hectic in registration, moving into your campsite, and making sure the scouts take their swim test.
This particular Sunday was very hot and every one was wore out and went to bed early. This is my third summer camp with the scouts and I have never encountered home sickness from any scout. Around midnight of the first night one of the younger scouts came and knocked on my tent and told me he was ready to go home. Initially he really startled me and this was my first brush with homesickness. I told him we would call his mom the next day. We prepped the mothers of the boys for situations like this. She stayed strong and made him stay the whole week even though he begged her to come get him.
Well, this scout looked depressed the whole week. One evening we had a horseback ride. In order to get on the horses each boy had to have a permission form. When we got to the stable the homesick scout asked me could he tear up his permission form. I asked him why. He looked me in my eyes and said, “The horses don’t look this big on TV.” I laughed and made him get on the horse. After the ride he had the biggest smile on his face for the first time that week. That smile alone made taking a week vacation from work worth going to summer camp.
Mike in Chamblee
July 29th, 2009
9:37 pm
I went to summer camp several years in a row with my church. At the time, I wasn’t all that keen on the idea. Especially, the days and hours leading up to the time which I actually had to leave my parents and go with a bunch of boys and girls that I didn’t really like all that much. Amazingly, those same kids provided some of my fondest memories and became best friends.
Those skits were the worst! At least so I thought before I actually took part in one. I was horrified at the prospect. My parents never warned me about this! This shy Mama’s boy was quite surprised to find out how much fun it actually was to get up on stage and show what summer camp was all about. I made some really good friends while we rehearsed for those skits.
Over coming fears, getting in trouble, getting away with things that kids get away with at camp, crushes on girls, all helped form the over all experience and fuse those memories into my psyche so that I would never forget. One of the most memorable was seeing my pastor, quiet and reserved, turn into a young child right before my eyes as he smeared whipped cream in my face during a giant food fight! From that point on, his sermons always seemed a little more real to me.
Every day was an adventure waiting to happen. I felt like some hobbit on an errand with Gandalf as we went on hikes through the woods, took canoes into the lake, swam and played day and night. The nightly campfire stories still resonate deep inside. I can’t wait to turn into a kid again when I can tell them to my kids when they’re older. Each and every child should get a chance to have summer camp memories to carry with them the rest of their lives.
Tiffany Doby
July 30th, 2009
3:56 pm
One time at band camp…. LOL Just kidding…but I had to say that because every summer I would spend a week at band camp. Hello my name is Tiffany and I am now 28 years old. I know many of you have seen the movie American Pie….very funny movie…but very misleading about band camp. At least with my camp exsperiance.
To be honest most all of the week I would find myself with all my fellow band “nerds” fighting the heat, the bugs and our “Sargent” band teacher.. From the crack of dawn till night time feel, we would march. Working on our positions and our notes…either on the field or during an inside rehersal.
There were a couple of exciting things that happened during the 4 years of band camp that I attended. One year there was a talent show. All the girls in my cabin decided to do a scene from the musical Greece…which might I add is like every bandies favorite movie…LOL… We won the talent contest and it was great fun. One year we had a dance. It was a combination of our school and another schools band that was also there for band camp… It was nice but everyone was shy and kinda stuck to thier own…. One year a couple girls snuck out to meet some boys from another school…NO NOT ME..LOL However it was very entertaining to all of us because they got busted and we all awoke to them marching up and down the street as punishment at 3am.
Truth be told I spent most of the week missing my boyfriend and family back home. I spent forever on the phone talking to everyone. One time the operator kept cutting in telling me to deposit more money. Finally she broke in on the line….I didn’t even know they could do that…she told me I better deposit more money. I informed her I had no more money and good luck finding me…I was one of the hundreds of kids at band camp!!! LOL
One year I did find a guy that was new to our school that seemed really cool. I really liked him. He would always come to my cabin and ask to talk me and we would swim and hang out together. I had finally found a friend. I thought he was kinda cute and thought to myself…hey maybe we could hook up. Turned out he was gay. LOL That is about the story of my life. My soon to be husband knows all to well. Anytime I point out a guy that I think is hot… he turns out to be gay. Adam Lambert I love you!!!
Every year we stayed in the same place…Rock Eagle. It was a wonderful camp and if you ever have an oppertunity to send your child there I suggest you do so…just make sure you pack them lots of snacks. I thought the food was ok…but everyone always seems to be starving and looking for a snack machine.LOL
Kerrie Kelly
July 31st, 2009
10:40 am
Ah, summer camp. Remember swimming in the lake, cooking out, making s’mores over the campfire, endless bug bites and stifling heat?
I do. My son was fortunate enough to participate in Sandlot Sports Camp this July, which is directed by my friend, Kim Johnson and facilitated by her team of tireless volunteers. I was fortunate to be able to participate too, with all things food, from planning, to clean up and every conceivable craziness in between.
Nothing in my foodservice career had prepared me for the emotional roller coaster a pack of eighty kids can drive.
Having an eight year old of my own, I’ve certainly heard my share of, “I don’t eat that.”, but I was at times overwhelmed by the snubs worthy of a cruel adult, only to be followed with a feeling of elation brought on by equally approving grunts, mmmm’s, and the occaisonal compliment. I didn’t know which way to turn. I was being tested, I knew it!
Seriously, how do you keep that many hungry tummys happy at mealtime? I believe in my heart the answer is, tacos.
The real answer, of course, is that you can’t please them all, and it’s not necessary to try. Most of these kids just want to know that someone cares about them, whether it’s taking the time to make a good meal for them or just paying them some sincere attention.
I can’t say I’ve ever worked that hard for that long – five days. Five long days, not including the days of prep before and clean up after. Could it be possible that Mario Batalli and Anthony Bourdain never have moments of weakness and self-pity?
After being a small part of this great Sandlot Sports Camp adventure and watching the other volunteers pour their hearts and souls into helping these kids blossom, I could only rub some dirt on my imagined wounds and have a new appreciation for those who give freely of themselves to show others a better way.
As I soak my feet and reflect, I realize we should all have more ’summer camp’ in our lives.
Kay Chapman
July 31st, 2009
12:53 pm
There are reasons I cried so hard when my parents came to pick me up, after what seemed like an agonizing eternity, from the Gitmo, I mean, Girl Scout Summer Camp. I went into this whole camping thing expecting to have the kind of fun that Hayley Mills sang about (”Let’s get together, yea yea yea!”) in the original classic Disney movie “The Parent Trap”, but nooooooo, it was more like “Friday the 13th”. Shudder. I still have nightmares about the whole ordeal.
I had never been away from home by myself, but hey, I wasn’t going to be lonely because there were other little hyper ten-year-olds, who, just like me, got suckered into signing onto this “I’m a Girl Scout, Get Me Out of Here!” reality gig. And that crying I heard at night wasn’t gonna remind me that I was homesick either.
Things got ugly pretty fast. The Camp Counselors, made it clear that there assignments were to torture and frighten us. They made us walk nature paths to pick up ticks and be bitten by millions of mosquitos. We went “snipe”-hunting, clicking sticks together along the way, hoping to find the elusive creatures, all the while listening to warnings of “watch for snakes.” Their campaign was working. I still watch for snakes. Shudder.
The torture was amped up. We were forced to do awful cleaning duties. The showers. We scrubbed the finish off of those fungal chambers with PineSol. I still hate that smell. If it was your day to clean the “Latrines”, you wondered if you could get out of that horrible job by pretending to be sick. I still hate that smell, too.
Those counselors really socked it to us when it came to our mealtimes. The “three Girl Scout bites or 5 Brownie bites” rule was to me the ultimate plan of evilness. The goal was to make sure we got our fiber, so prunes were served at breakfast. Can you imagine the sound of a room full of girls sitting at banquet tables, gagging their hearts out? Shudder.
Somewhere between all the scratching, hacking and scrubbing there were some moments where I treasure what I learned besides the important ones of survival essential to being a Girl Scout. I learned that I was capable of singing (I was picked to sing solo at Talent Night, although off key), to roast marshmallows and to discover that Pepsodent toothpaste tasted pretty good as a little snack.
Still, there’s no place like home.
Tammy
July 31st, 2009
3:01 pm
When I was a kid I went to a summer camp and looking back, I do not know why in the world my parents allowed me to attend. I cannot remember the name of the church however it was a kids church and a bus would come around to neighborhoods and pick kids up to take them to the church. By the way I would never allow my child to get on a bus with strangers to go to a church but anyway. The church was having a week camp session and all of the kids in my neighborhood were going. I remember getting up early in the morning to get on the bus to go to camp. My parents sent me with about $15.00 which was not enough but I will get to that later.
When we first arrived to the camp I thought we were in another country somewhere. I had no idea where we were, and still don’t. But anyway we had to go in the middle of the campground and sing church songs everyday after exercising at the crack of dawn. First weird event, if you mess up on the song you had to kiss a pole. Yes, kiss a pole!!!! Then we went to our rooms which were cabins. In the morning you had get up make up your bed and stand beside it until the counselors/inspectors came. Every day the cabin who had the neatest beds would win a prize. Well, my cabin never won and you will see more about this at the end of the story. We would ride horses and exercise in the morning. We would go to bible study class and have outside competitions which were pretty fun. After the 2nd day I was out of money and had to resort to extreme measures. One of my fellow campers and I were sitting around starving for snacks and just could not wait until dinner so we thought why don’t we borrow some of the other campers snacks, we are sure they will not miss it. So we messed up all the beds to pretend someone broke into the cabins (which were in the middle of no-where land). And we ate some chips, cookies and drinks that did not belong to us. Well, our roommates came back mad because 1) they worked hard to make up the beds so we could win but we never did and they were ruined now and 2) because someone ate their snacks. So they asked us what happened and we said we don’t know it was like this when we got here and everyone was staring at me and I wondered why. One of the girls who was missing her chips said “wipe the crumbs from my chips off of your face.” We were busted and I will never forget that camping experience and I have never taken anything that did not belong to me again.
Cheryl Norwood
July 31st, 2009
3:53 pm
I have often been a chaperone at children and youth camps through church. My favorite things about camp are the kids and my least favorite…the kids! For example, when I was chaperoning a week of camp with my fifth grade sunday school class in South Georgia, I noticed one of my girls was not showering. I took her aside and asked if there was a problem. She said she didn’t need to shower since they went swimming at the pool during the day. One of the other girls overhead her and said to the girl “but the little kids pee in the pool.” Not what I would have said, but it did the trick—she took a shower IMMEDIATELY after pool time every day! My worse camp experiences have to do with teenage girls talking–talking—talking. All day, all night, when your tired old bones are already pained from sleeping on those thin cabin mattresses. You can’t wear out the mouths of teen age girls. Never volunteer to sleep in the same cabin. Sleep in your car if you have to, I say!
Tricia
July 31st, 2009
11:47 pm
Every summer I would attend Girl Scout camp in North Georgia. I loved going to camp, but there was one thing I always dreaded: the swimming test. A few hours after arriving at camp, the counselor would call everyone to put on their bathing suits. Most girls were excited to put on their bathing suits and jump in the pool, but swimming has never been strength of mine.
The swim test consisted of swimming the length of the pool and treading water for 2 minutes. When it came time for my test, I dog paddled about half the pool and then just walked the rest of the length of the pool. I would then attempt to tread water for about a minute before I had to cling to the side or be pulled out by a lifeguard before I drowned. I always ended up in the beginner swimming group, which consisted of wearing a bright red bathing cap and staying only in the shallow end of the pool for the duration of the summer. I hated it because there were several years that I was the only girl who got a red cap. All of the other girls wore green bathing caps and would play only in the deep end of the pool. I had to stand all alone in the shallow end of the pool.
I became a camp counselor at the same camp while I was in college. One of the first things we did was take a swim test. It consisted of one length of the pool and 2 minutes of treading water. I had taken some swimming lessons while at college and hoped I was prepared for the test. I swam one length of the pool doing free style and then made it the full 2 minutes of treading water. Yes! I finally got my “green cap”!
Kerry Sartain
August 1st, 2009
11:10 am
Over my 61 years I have participated in many summer camps with the Boy Scouts of America, first as a camper, then a camp staff member, a camper at Philmont in New Mexico, and later as a Scouter. I have many fond memories of camps over the Southeast and especially here in Georgia.
However, the most memorable camp experience was my very first week of camp as an 11 year old Boy Scout. This occurred at the “Old Camp Bert Adams”. For those that are thinking about Bert Adams Boy Scout Reservation in Covington, that is not the place. The “Old Camp Bert Adams” was located where Cumberland Mall is now located. The office park adjacent and to the West of the mall was the center of camp activities. The lake that is in the middle of the apartments there was where I qualified for the Canoeing Merit Badge that first summer. Of course, in 1959, that area was a wild, wooded area apart from the city of Atlanta. No malls, no interstate highways, no 4-lane highways, and not much in the way of businesses existed.
The trip to camp started Sunday afternoon with a bus ride with my other BSA Troop 164 members all the way from Decatur to Vinings, as going through Vinings was the only access to the camp. Vinnings was an old rundown train station, and a couple of old houses on a very narow, twisted road. The bus trip seemed like an eternity. It was hot. It was crowded. It was loud. Not a very good start for the week I thought.
Once the bus unloaded at camp we were shown to our campsite which was made up of a number of adirondacks (three sided wooden structures with a wooden floor and a large overhanging roof). These adirondacks had three bunk beds so they accommodated six campers each. I quickly learned my first lesson of summer camp, “Every Man for Himself”, as all the experienced campers dashed into adirondacks and claimed their bunk. I was left behind with some other Tenderfoot Scouts to try to find the open spaces. As luck would have it, I found a bottom bunk open. I would later learn why no one else wanted that bottom bunk. The top bunk was occupied by a Second Class Scout called “Pinky” by the rest of the troop.
It seems Pinky had an aversion to things natural. Anything that moved was of interest to Pinky. While we spread out our sleeping bags and organized our packs and boxes in the adirondack, Pinky searched about the campsite under rocks and logs and found about six scorpions, three spiders, a lizard and a small garter snake. He brought them all back to the adirondak and placed them in a cardboard box located on his bunk.
That afternoon we had our physical exams and completed our swimming tests. Two laps of the pool, two minutes free floating, and we were judged as “swimmers”. Anything less were “beginners”. We were given our “buddy tags” which were hung on a hook with our buddy each time we went into the water. Finally, exhausted after all that had occurred that afternoon, we were lead to the dining hall where we would have all our meals for the upcoming week. Actually the food was pretty good. The most interesting part was the “bug juice” which was the cool aid that was mixed up in large quantities and seemed to end up covering most of the tables and campers before each meal was completed. In the dining hall we sang songs and performed chants that extolled the greatness of our troop to the others.
After dinner the first campfire of the week was awsome. An indian fired a flaming arrow into the stack of wood that immediately burst into flame and lighted up the entire area for the rest of the evening. Songs and skits followed with the campfire ending with a story. We then made our way back to camp through the dark woods. The first night did not offer much sleep as I wondered what would be in store on Monday.
Now Old Bert Adams was very hilly terrain. There were almost no flat spots on the property. There was one area that had been leveled to create a small ball field. There was also an adjacent Quonset hut used for activities during rainy weather. The parade ground in front of the old dining hall was also flat but very small. The flagpole was located in the center of the parade ground and all the troops assembled around the flag pole several times a day. In the mornings each troop was accounted for and the flag was raised as the bugler sounded the appropriate bugle call. Then the campers filed in to their assigned tables for breakfast. After each meal one camper from each table had KP duty and had to clean the table and sweep the floor.
In the evenings the troops gathered at the flag pole and stood at attention as the bugler sounded “To The Colors” as the flag was lowered. After dinner there was usually some free time to work on merit badge requirements, write letters or just rest.
During daytime, however, the hours were packed with activities with merit badge classes in Swimming, Lifesaving, Canoeing, Rowing, Hiking, Camping, Nature, Forestry, Cooking, Marksmanship and many others. Being a young scout I had not earned any merit badges yet. I was able to work on Swimming and Canoeing, and to go to the rifle range to try to qualify as Marksman and Pro-Marksman.
Pinky, on the other hand, took the Nature Merit Badge and spent the remainder of his time looking for snakes. The area proved to be abundantly blessed with snakes. As of Friday he had gathered at least 20 snakes which he kept in the cardboard box on his bunk.
Friday afternoon my shooting at the rifle range qualified me as Pro-Marksman. With my certificate in hand I excitedly ran up and down the hills through the woods toward our campsite to tell everyone what I had done. Suddenly I found myself hurtling through the air after tripping over something, and a large rock found my knee as I landed, creating a two inch gash. After making it back to the campsite my scoutmaster took me to the first aid center where I learned I was not the only patient. Another camper had recently swallowed a yellow jacket with a swig from a Coke bottle and it had stung him in the throat. The three of us loaded into the first aid director’s car and headed for Kennestone hospital in Marietta.
Now Kennestone was quite a bit smaller than it is now, and it seemed much farther away. Also along the way to Kennestone it seems like we only saw just a few other automobiles. It was nothing like the highways full of cars and endless shops and stores along that route today. At Kennestone I received my obligatory stitches after a long wait while they treated my suffering fellow camper. It was so late we had missed supper at the dining hall, so we stopped for a hamburger, then continued back to camp.
When I arrived at my campsite I found the troop had already left for the hike up Mount Atkinson and the weekly Friday campfire. I was very disappointed to miss this last campfire. There would be many more in my future. When my fellow campers returned to the campsite it was time for bed. We were all worn out from a very active week. Tomorrow we would be heading home.
That’s when I saw it. Pinky’s box of snakes on the top bunk was open. The flaps were obviously raised. Pinky checked the box and all the snakes were gone. He bagan a frantic search for his captives, but they were not found. OK, it was time to go to bed. My next thought was “I wonder if any of them found their way into my sleeping bag on the bottom bunk”. I certainly was not going to let the others know I might have even the first thought of being scared. It took every manley thought I could muster to slowly stick that first foot all the way to the bottom of the sleeping bag and feel around to make sure none of Pinky’s friends were there.
Even though the bag was clear, I could only lay awake and think about it all night. The next morning I was exhausted. We loaded up the bus and made it back home that afternoon, but the box of snakes was something I would never forget.
Natalie Nicholas Adams
August 3rd, 2009
8:58 am
When Elvis Left the Building …
I was at camp when Elvis died. This wasn’t your usual camp by any means. This was a camp for children with special needs and I was a counselor to 3 girls with Downe’s Syndrome in upstate New York.
I remember that day well. We had no phones, papers or TVs in our secluded camp in the woods. Right before dinner, one of the rather larger male campers decided to play leap frog over my head in the parking lot and without my consent! The last thing I remember was hearing was my face as it smashed against the gravel. The camp nurse (who actually lived near by)began to clean me up but was crying uncontrollably. I was thinking, “Am I going to die? Is my face going to be scarred for life?” Then the nurse finally calmed down enough to tell me that Elvis was dead.
Up until that moment, my first week at camp was the best week of my life. My favorite memory was watching the campers who were wheelchair bound go swimming! Each camper wore a life vest and then they were wheeled directly into the lake and where they became weightless and free. That is an image and a moment I will never forget.
So every year when the media announces how many years it has been since Elvis died – I remember playing leap with a giant and swimming with the dolphins at camp… and that Elvis had left the building for the last time.
Camp Cherokee
August 3rd, 2009
9:15 am
Every summer growing up, I attended Camp Cherokee at Cherokee Retreat Center near Cartersville, GA, which is operated by a group of Presbyterian churches – all in North GA. One of my fondest memories and best camp stories was years ago when I was a counselor. That year, our interim camp director was somewhat less than involved in the day to day activities, and liked to “manage” from afar. This was okay with us counselors for the most part, but we ended up planning and directing all of the activities for the children, electing a “head counselor in charge”, and generally leading the best way we knew how. Because almost all had been counselors before, it worked just like clockwork! That summer, we built the best team environment I’ve ever worked in to this day.
Having said that, that summer it rained every day because there was a hurricane remnant sitting over the state for weeks on end. Being a camp, most of our activities were outdoors, so this seriously crimped our style. Enter the creative genius of us counselors! What’s a fun activity you can do outside in the rain and not worry about getting wet? Slip n slide! Only, we didn’t have our own, so we made it out of a big blue tarp. Off we went to the field, where we and several other counselors proceeded to make a “mud pit” at the bottom of a small hill, placed the tarp so that you would have about 15 feet of sliding area, and grabbed all the dish soap we could find from the kitchens. Needless to say, the kids had a ball, and we spent the better portion of that afternoon getting completely muddy and soapy. 40 kids covered in frothy mud with their counselors right beside them and covered in equal amounts of mud is a sight to see. To wrap things up, we all walked down to the pool where we happily jumped in to clean off the mud, and ended up turning the lovely blue pool green. The caretaker was none too happy about the condition of the pool, and it took about a week for it to stop looking like the lake, but I will never, ever forget that experience! To all my co-counselors that summer, if you’re reading this….”MUD!!”