"Truly it may be said that the outside of a mountain is good for the inside of a man." ~George Wherry, Alpine Notes and the Climbing Foot, 1896
Campfires
Much More Than S'mores
One of my favorite activities at camp are campfires. Campfires come in many different flavors and sizes, but they all share a bit of the same magic. At each of the camps I directed campfires provided a highlight to mark the end of the day. It provided a "feeling" of being at camp. At Camp Benson the main campfire setting sits on top of a narrow bluff called the West T-Bone is surrounded by giant white pine trees which provide an extra layer of intimacy to the ambience found there. At Phantom Lake, especially on the first day of summer camp, opening night on Campfire Hill was an exhilarating experience. It was at this campfire it would confirm that a new summer has arrived - on par with a baseball umpire's call at the start of a new season's opening game, "Play ball!" For me it was a genuine pleasure to gather and stack all the firewood for the evening's campfire program. For a time, being able to start the fire with one match became a point of pride and delight. Being the "MC" for the campfire program was such a pleasure. I so enjoyed watching everyone's faces as other camp staff took turns leading a song or performing a skit. The excitement in everyone's eyes sparkled and beamed. For me, the highlight of the night usually was when I shared a story around the campfire and found myself "disappearing" into the tale and returning to the present usually by a loud uniform groan and laughter. The louder the groan the better! Such fun, such wonder. Be sure to keep the flames of friendship burning.
Riley Cooper leading a campfire during Boys Camp circa 1980.
"Something happens to a man when he sits before a fire. Strange stirrings take place within him and a light comes into his eyes which was not there before. An open flame suddenly changes the environment to one of adventure and romance... No matter where an open fire happens to be -- in a city apartment, a primitive cabin, or deep in the wilderness -- it weaves it spell."
Sigurd F. Olson
"Sir G" the director of Phantom Lake Y Camp was a gifted storyteller and great mentor stands next to me at the Phantom Lake Storytelling Festival.
Camping at Camp Benson in May
"Sir G" the director of Phantom Lake Y Camp was a gifted storyteller and great mentor stands next to me at the Phantom Lake Storytelling Festival.
Storytelling at Camp
Believe, because you just never know when this could happen to you.
Camp enriched my life in a mountain of ways of which I am very grateful. One of the ways was tapping into and providing outlets for my creativity. Prior to Phantom never in my life had I ever been in an environment that fostered and fed my imagination as I experienced there. Storytelling was one of those many outlets. It was storytelling that was key to my growth from being a "green as grass" camp counselor to a "pro" (For those that know me from this time it's OK to laugh). Telling stories in the tent (a large "canvas cabin" with bunk-beds and room for twelve) to my campers before going to bed provided a clear definition that it was the end of the day. I insisted that it was quiet before I would share my tales. I'd place a small flashlight with a make-shift shade (A bottle shampoo worked well) over it down on the floor in the center of the tent and I would circle around the dimmed light as I acted out portions of the tale. I made a point to not tell scary stories. I preferred stories filled with adventure and colorful images. I can remember the first story I made up. It featured a twenty foot rabbit (my campers were 8 years old). I can go on and on with stories of telling stories, but I'll save this for another time and a place where I have more space to write. To see a list of the stories I told at camp click this link. For a copy of the "Legend of Phantom Lake" click this link. Side note: One of the most fun programs I enjoyed being a part of was the Phantom Lake Storytelling Festival. What a great the name! Talk about coincidences. Little did I know at the time, but I believe the first festival was held on September 22 which is the day my oldest son Luke was born on ten years later.
“The migrant people, scuttling for work, scrabbling to live, looked always for pleasure, manufactured pleasure, and they were hungry for amusement. Sometimes amusement lay in speech, and they climbed up their lives with jokes. And it came about in the camps along the roads, on the ditch banks besides the streams, under the sycamores, that the story teller grew into being, so that the people gathered in the low firelight to hear the gifted ones. And they listened while the tales were told, and their participation made the stories great.”
“And the people listened, and their faces were quiet with listening. The story tellers, gathering attention into their tales, spoke in great rhythms, spoke in great words because the tales were great, and the listeners became great through them.”