After crossing off almost 60 days on my calendar countdown, it was finally time for the best month of my year.
From being a Girl Scout to taking my annual eight-hour road trips to Colorado with my church, I’ve had my fair share of summer camps. I’ve noticed that as I’ve gotten older, my friends laugh at the idea of attending a summer camp. They have “better things” to do with their summer.
In my opinion, summer camps give teens a chance to experience self-growth.
There’s nothing I love more than packing up my North Face backpack and nearly 10-pound duffel bag with four different pairs of shoes, enough clothes to let me change four times a day and toiletries that I probably won’t use every day. I’m pleased to do it all in preparation for the camping and team building activities ahead — even though some think it’s a waste of time and money.
At summer camp, the harsh restrictions placed on us by society disappear. It’s just you, your cabin and the woods — a liberating feeling that everyone should experience.
I’m not saying you should act fake or not like yourself, but at camp you have the opportunity to change. After all, most of the people there have no idea who you are.
The main reason I love summer camp is the idea that you can leave all the drama and stress in your life at home. It’s hard to worry about that failed relationship or that summer reading assignment while climbing the mountains of Colorado or hiking through the middle-of-nowhere Kansas.
Every summer I’m always greeted with smiles and open arms — you make new friends within minutes. I still keep in touch with bunkmates from years ago.
Going to camp is almost a way of finding myself again. I can be surrounded with joy or I can sit there in silence while I enjoy the calm light breeze. I notice that for each week I go to summer camp I become a better person. I stop taking unimportant problems and drama with peers so seriously by the time I come back home.
Most of the camps I’ve been to are Christian-based and include Bible study and worship. But you don’t have to believe in God to enjoy camp. Anyone can benefit from a heart-to-heart talk with strangers — it’s surprisingly empowering and my favorite way to live in the moment.
There are small moments that I do dread — chafing on my legs, 100-degree weather, too-few showers.
For all the opportunities and character development, the real truth is that camp is just fun. From hiking, water rafting, rope courses, friendship bracelets, late night camp songs — my personal favorite — and much more, I rarely stop smiling at camp.
The only time I could honestly say I’m not having fun is that dreaded morning where I have to pack up my things and say goodbye to the most peaceful place on earth — I’m guaranteed to go through a whole box of Kleenex on the car ride home.
Some would say that summer camp is the land of dreams. 10 days of summer spent in paradise, living free of your parents’ rule. Or so I thought.
2018 marked my boy scout days troop days, where I was given the opportunity to go to a 10-day stay-away camp in Osceola, Mo. I signed up thinking it would be a dream — exploring the wilderness and living in tents with some of my closest friends. I excitedly prepared for my adventure, making sure I had enough clothes and Pop-Tarts to last a lifetime.
The first day went well. The counselors were welcoming, and I was excited to spend the whole 10 days with some of my best friends. I got a couple of mosquito bites but other than that, nothing bad had happened — yet.
My good times abruptly came to an end when we saw our campsite.
The tents were held together by duct tape, and looked older than I was — and don’t even get me started on the spiders. I hate spiders. As my greatest fear, I counted three spiders crawling on me. Each one I spotted was followed by a blood-curdling scream.
That sleepless night showed me that summer camp might not be for me. But that was just the beginning.
For starters, the weather — with triple-digit heat, I thought I was close to having heat stroke more times than I could count on both hands. My feet were blistered and by the first of our eight miles we had to walk each day. They said they were feeding us hamburgers, but I don’t think it was a cow in the burger— trust me, it was not edible.
The only thing keeping me from having a mental breakdown was playing cards with my friends and my Pop-Tarts.
I don’t know why people continue to go to that camp. Just in the 10 days, I was there, three kids had to leave via helicopter for medical emergencies, and I’d consider them lucky. I had to endure what felt like a whole month at camp, so I envied the kids who got to leave early.
The saying “it’s always darkest before dawn” rang very true in my experience. The night before we were planning to leave was the worst. We all slept out from under our tents, which was a tradition for our troop, and lucky me got invaded by a colony of little red demons — chiggers. I have never experienced more discomfort, or bug bites, in my life. The next day I was practically tearing my skin off, attempting to scratch the itch, trying to soothe my agony. Luckily, we left that day, but any longer, I think I would’ve gone absolutely crazy.
I know for some people summer camp is something to look forward to all year and wish they could stay there forever — but not me. Summer camp was one of the worst experiences of my life. What I had to endure wasn’t something I’d wish upon anyone — except maybe my worst enemy. It’s safe to say I will not be returning.