Camping Anyone?

The end of the school year was always an interesting time.  The kids are ready to be free for the summer, parents maybe not quite so excited.  Since I grew up in a family that did not do vacations and married someone who thought a vacation centered around a drag race I really had no memories to fall back on.

In junior high school I spent a couple of weeks each summer at Girl Scout camp.  I think I tried to convince myself how much fun it was when now all I can remember were snakes in the Barron Fork Creek, snakes in the Latrine and snakes on the hiking trails. Then there were scorpions that crawled in your bed and poison ivy everywhere. But I still remember the camp song "We're out at Camp Darby, the camp of our dreams, where the blue water ripples and sparkles and gleams....". Yeah, right. Then there was cheerleader camp in Norman where we got to stay in old army barracks with the temperature of a 110 degrees that was considered a cold snap.  The last straw as far as camping was considered was Girl's Recreation Camp where you competed in sports from the moment the sun came up until dark-thirty.  Maybe Mother was trying to get rid of me.

Camping only became an important aspect in life when I was going through a divorce from Dennis.  It is impossible to get away for a few days when you have no money for motels.  Camping for a few dollars a night opened up a whole new world.  I should also mention here that Michigan does not have killer snakes.  They have enough sense to stay way south of cold weather.

Reading the brochure about Pine River Camp I couldn't help but get excited for Wally.  The camp was located on Neebish Island west of the International border that separates the United States from Ontario, Canada.  It sits in the St. Mary's River which connects Lake Superior and Lake Huron. Ship traffic heading up to Lake Superior pass on the east side while downriver traffic passes on the west side. The camp itself was located on the southern end of the island and accessible      only by canoe or row boats.

The camp was started in the 1960's and attracted kids from all over the United States.  In addition to three weeks at the camp they also offered a bicycle trip across the Upper Peninsula or hiking in Colorado.  Wally just wanted to spend the three weeks on the island doing what was called Wilderness camping. So we made a list of all the items they were to bring, ordered iron on name tags for everything he was taking and waited for the day he was to meet the bus in Lansing, Michigan.

It was interesting watching Wally when we got to Lansing on the day he was to get on the bus and head for camp.  Going off for three weeks to some unknown adventure with people he did not know was a big step for a twelve year old.  He did not seem to want to hang out with his Mom so I found other parents to visit with.  They all had good things to say about the camp which was reassuring but at the same time this was the first time he was on his own.  There were no grandparents or parents to bolster his confidence and I wondered what was going through his thoughts as more kids arrived who all seemed to know each other.  Would I get a call from the camp at some point to say I needed to come and pick him up as he was miserable?  Or in three weeks would I see a very self-confident young man hop off the bus proclaiming he wanted to go back next year while he said goodbye to all his new friends? Time would only tell and I hoped for the best as the bus pulled out and headed north.

There is one more rather funny story concerning Wally.  Shortly before school was out for the summer I needed to take the Bronco in for some repairs because an idiot sideswiped it one day.  Since that was the only car I had Charles was nice enough to tell me he had an extra one parked at his apartment that I could use. Did I ask what kind of car?  No.  Did I ask what kind of shape it was in?  No.  So he just brought the car over after dark one evening and left it for me.

The next morning I looked out the window and just started laughing my head off. The car was almost the length of the driveway and was covered with so much dust and dirt I was not sure whether it was dark blue or dark green.  My best guess was that it was about a 1962 or 1963 Cadillac.

The front and back windshields had a small circle where I assumed Charles had wiped dirt off so that he could see to drive it.  No wonder he waited until after dark to bring it over.

I called Charles and in between laughter I thanked him for the loan of the car.  He kept apologizing for the way the car looked and would come over that evening and give it a bath. I told him it was fine, no problem because maybe snotty Birmingham with their Mercedes and nice Cadillacs needed a little laughter. But when Wally saw the car he instantly refused to be taken to school in it.  Maybe we did have one of the oldest and smallest houses in town or give the appearance of having much money but hey, did he really want to walk to school?

He grumbled and griped, pleaded and begged for me to let him out a block from school.  No, the front walkway to the school was where we needed to go.  Naturally upon our arrival all of his friends were standing on the sidewalk.  It was a mixture of aghast and total laughter on the faces of the boys.  When we stopped they all ran over to the car and told Wally how cool it was. That was a quick change from Grumpy Wally to Proud Wally and suddenly he was in love with the car.

Wally was off to camp and Charles called one day to ask if he could talk to me.  I was not sure what he wanted to talk about but when someone loans you a prized automobile you have to be nice.  Talking over dinner sounded good.  To my surprise what he wanted to know was if I would take him camping while Wally was gone so he could see if he liked it. Now that was a surprise.  Guess I never thought about a fifty-five year old man who had never been camping in his life. This could be fun or it could be a disaster.

Camp Fred Darby

Cheerleader Camp

Neebish Island