Summer Camp

When summer rolls around, I can't help but recall going to camp.

When I was a kid, I went to Camp Merrie Woode in Plainwell, MI, for two weeks each summer. I went for eight years and had the time of my life.

The picture above is from the year I rode the Shore to Shore Trail on horseback in Northern Michigan.

We spent our days riding and then pitched our two-man pup tents. We cooked breakfast and dinner over an open fire, bathed in streams, and learned how to live on the trail.

Because the horses could get a little spooked at night, we took turns keeping watch. This meant getting up at 1,2,3, or 4 in the morning with your tent mate, and keeping check on the horses and the campsite to make sure everything was okay.

After an hour, you'd wake up the next girls on duty and go back to bed.

I was fourteen, and keeping watch in a dark forest was a little scary and exhilarating. I was a real cowboy, now. It made me feel brave, and it made me brave, too.

Another year, I went backpacking for two weeks in the Great Smoky Mountains as part of my summer camp experience. How awesome is that? 

By hook or by crook, our parents made our childhood (my brother, sister, and I) so much fun. I am most grateful.