Back from an amazing week at a small Christian camp in the Adirondacks. Camp Fowler is a progressive protestant camp focused more on the message preached by Jesus of compassion, empathy, and acceptance than of conversion and faith. I know several people of different and no religion who attend each year.
Stuff I did:
• a dozen of us were dropped at 7:30am into a river in kayaks, paddled upstream for 6.5mi, portaged said 55 pound kayaks on our backs through 5 miles of sparsely marked bushwhack in the woods (accompanied by enthusiastic swarms of deerflies), put the kayaks into a lake and crossed it (2 miles), portaged for another ~2 miles of bushwhack, and finally kayaked across the lake the camp is situated on for 3 or so miles to our beach where we were met with 120 cheering campers, a hot dinner, and a shower. It took 12 hours in all and was one of the hardest but most rewarding trips I've ever done.
• I hiked my first high peak with Giant Mountain, where the fickle adk weather decided to both hail and rain on us when we reached the summit. Wore a new pair of shadow project pants which were really great for hiking in. Trip took 11 hours in all.
• Built a porch with maintenance staff and made grilled cheese with camp cookers (smiling)
• Chicken nugget day may be the closest thing to hell jesus camp will ever come to. I ate 40, others ate many more. Somehow the youngest cabin of boys (9th grade, 13-14 yrs old) were assigned to serve for the meal which means running back and forth to the kitchen windows frantically for an hour as tables collectively raise hands and call for more food. General chaos, nuggets everywhere, weeping and mourning and gnashing of teeth
• Tie dyed a pair of khaki shorts and an old flannel which actually came out kinda cool
It was my eighth and final year at camp and it was emotional and exhausting and renewing and introspective. The camp director is one of the nicest, most genuine, most spiritual people I have ever met, and my college essay was written partially about Kent and the camp. He accompanied us on our kayak and was pretty much the only thing that kept us going. Amazing storyteller as well. The level of acceptance and openness at Camp Fowler is something that I've never really experienced elsewhere and is very hard for me to explain in words. I cried for the first time in awhile as we were saying goodbyes on Saturday morning before leaving. Camp fires, acoustic guitars pervading every timber-framed corner of every building, chickens roaming around casually, birkenstocks and tevas and flannels and coffee mugs and camelbaks, singing after every meal and before going to bed and in the mornings still half-asleep huddled on logs, mildewy showers, bunk beds, leashless spaniels, damp clothes, huddling for warmth, old sweatshirts, and a complete lack of electronic communication are all essential parts of camp. Hope to volunteer and/or work on staff for next summer, though NEU co-ops and such will prohibit working there after that :(
Stripping all the outside influences off and being really, truly in the ephemeral is incredibly refreshing. Camp makes me feel both very small and large, being part of something more than myself, connected to all other individuals who are there with me and yet important in my own.
bunch of us looking deceptively enthusiastic on the kayak
wore an OL sweat to service on Friday
http://campfowler.org/