a peek inside the fishbowl

I went to two summer camps. One was called Camp Bellaleo. I spent a few weeks there during the summer before fifth grade. The second camp was a Czech-language camp in the heart of Scarborough (I know, I wouldn’t believe there’s a camp there either) which I attended in my early teens and later stayed on as camp counsellor and, when I was about 19, camp director. (I think management wasn’t able to find anyone else interested in the job!)

This week we had the opportunity to visit some friends whose family runs a summer camp for children in the Temagami area.

Camp Wabikon is a helluva drive from Ottawa – it took us about six hours – but it was well worth it. It is a gorgeous part of the province. This is Canadian Shield country, rugged and wild with tall evergreens dotting a wide expanse of rock. For me, this is the kind of topography I love. It’s a place where hunting, fishing, and canoeing are common pursuits and life revolves around the many lakes and rivers. This isn’t living off  the land as it is living with the land. It is glorious and good for the soul.

The camp itself is on Lake Temagami. It had its beginnings as a hunting lodge and has been a children’s camp since around WWII.

Our long drive came to a close at the end of a long gravel road and finally, a dock where a boat was waiting to bring us across with all of our stuff. It was Emma and Sarah’s first time in a motor boat.

When we arrived we got a big tour and were introduced to all the staff. And then the girls left us and were rarely seen again. They assimilated themselves into camp life without a second thought and took part in everything that was offered to them, including a canoe trip and hike to High Rock across the lake:

… as well as some time in the swimming area:

Mark and I had a campsite about a 15-minute canoe trip away from camp.

It was right on the water, nestled in the trees:

We got rained out one night (at which point we were rescued and brought back to camp to sleep in a cabin) but had a gorgeous sunset on our second night (sans children):

… which became a wonderful star-filled night. We lay out on a rock and watched shooting stars. It was so quiet at night that our ears were ringing.

FYI: I survived the digging of the latrine. I wasn’t mentally prepared for this when we set out, but you know what? It beats the stinky outhouses of a regular campground. ‘Nuff said.

Mark and I spent a lot of time at the camp. While we walked around I experienced one deja vu on top of another. The wooden beams in the dining hall:

… the expansive landscape in which water plays such an integral role:

… the fishing, the canoes… it all came rushing back to me. The experience of being at summer camp is very unique. Camp has a culture all of its own. Either you’ve been there or you haven’t. Either you get it or you don’t. And explaining this all to non-camp people is nearly impossible.

I was talking to someone about it before we left and wasn’t able to do it justice. How could I explain the camaraderie? The relationships? The experience of living outside the watchful eye of our parents? The traditions?

At my first camp we sang a prayer song before every meal. (And this was not a religious camp! For context, keep in mind that this was back in the day when everyone recited the Lord’s Prayer at school.)

Oh the lord is good to me,
And so I thank the lord,
For giving me,
The things I need,
The sun and the rain and the apple seed,
The lord is good to me,
Johnnyappleseed [clap] AMEN!

This song is forever burned into my memory.

And then there were all the nutty pranks. When I was older (at the Czech camp), one of our peers was a tough-talkin’ girl from the U.S. who – gasp – smoked. The boys thought it was a disgusting habit and took it upon themselves to teach her a lesson. One them took one of her cigarettes, emptied out some of the tobacco and then filled it back up again … but with some of his toenail clippings added to the mix.

She smoked it while we killed ourselves laughing.

All of this came back to me as we walked around the Camp Wabikon.

I think that summer camp played a part in the person I am today, and I think every child should have the opportunity to have their own summer camp experience at least once in their lives.

What do you think? Are you a camp person? And would you send your kids to summer camp?

We’ll probably be sending our girls next summer. I just hope that they don’t smoke someone’s toenails.

We’ve just returned from a very interesting adventure. I can’t wait to tell you more about it.

I will say this, it is good to be home!

Sarah couldn’t fall asleep. It was past ten and she was practically wide awake. I’d been upstairs twice to talk to her but nothing was working.

She told me that when she can’t sleep she closes her eyes and pictures miles of blank paper and stacks of art supplies and then imagines herself drawing on the paper, and drawing and drawing and drawing.

I thought that was pretty good.

Me, I lie on my back in the most comfortable way I can; no hair in my face or twisted knickers. I breathe deeply in through my nose. I picture each breath as a healing breath, full of good things which nourish my mind and body, such as love, good fortune and good health. I picture my breath as something fresh and cool and crisp. Almost blue. There is power in its coolness.

Watching my breath is like watching a bucket of water douse a fire in slow motion.

Outgoing breath is the fire. I told Sarah that outgoing breath is releasing the bad stuff in my body. It is hot and steamy, sticky residue of mad or hurt feelings, bad luck, germs and illness. It contains sickness of the blood and heart and mind, and with every single breath there is a tiny bit less of it in my body. Every breath sends The Bad far far away bit by bit.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

And then I fall asleep. It works every time.

When I am worrying about something I imagine myself with a mop or a vacuum in hand, and running the mop over my worries as if they were a stain on the floor. After a bit of scrubbing they start to disappear. It might sound corny but this has always worked for me.

What about you? Are you a good sleeper? Or a restless one? How do you get to sleep?