Stories and Photos

John ‘Dingo’ Thompson

Darkness. The only sound is the gentle lapping of water against the rocks outside. The fir and pine trees are asleep but their heavenly odour pervades the still forest.

I feel a nudge.

I ignore it and turn over.

Another nudge.

A whisper, “Dingo, Dingo.”

“Mmm.”

“What time is it Dingo?”

I force my eyes open. Everything is a blur. Slowly my surroundings come into focus. There are the slats of the bunk above me. My little window next to me that is meant to be an emergency exit – I often wonder how I would ever fit through it should our beautiful log cabin go up in smoke.

“Dingo.” I hear my camp name again.

“Phantom!” One of my seven campers is standing over me. This ten year old is a kid with balls of energy, so much so that my camp director had given me a heads up ahead of his arrival.

I look at my watch. “It’s 6.45 Phantom”, not his real name of course.

One of the traditions at camp is to have camp names. It has been weeks since I was called John. I actually enjoy being called Dingo, it sounds cool. It reflects the contrast between life here in the Cascade Mountains near Seattle and life back home in Sydney. I’m a journalist in my ‘normal’ life, resentfully waking up to the blistering buzz of an alarm clock at 4am every day to start work at the radio station at 5am. After ten years, the monotony of chasing ambulances, fire engines and the occasional political story starts to become overwhelming. How different life is at Lake Wenatchee: casually waking up every morning in one of 14 log cabins nestled in the forest on the edge of this large icy lake. We’re surrounded by snow capped mountains that look like they’ve been lifted from the Sound of Music.

“6.56?! Guys, get up!!”

There is a stir.

“Phantom, you need to put on some swimmers, we’re going for a polar bear swim!”

“I don’t really want to.”

“We’re the Woods Rulers, Phantom. We do things together. Engine, Crusader, Speed, Blitz, Cougar and Marvel let’s get going down to the waterfront!”

Getting the kids up and moving is probably the biggest struggle of the day. Admittedly, some are like Phantom, ready to go before their counsellor. But others are more like Blitz.

“Blitz, wake up!”

“Mmm” is the only response from the mound of sleeping bag on the other side of the cabin. Finally we are ready to go. Phantom leads the way, seven great kids each with a towel in hand.

Looking at them, I realise that they are just like mini-adults. Each has their own distinct personality, their own likes and dislikes. This is 11 year old Engine’s first time away from home and although he was upset and pining for Mum and Dad during the first couple of nights, he’s now settled into camp life, with no small thanks to Crusader. The first night of Engine’s tears, Crusader told the cabin that everyone should have in their mind a ‘happy place’ where, by closing their eyes, they can go to when they’re feeling sad. With the lights out, we all spoke of our own ‘happy places’. Engine felt much better. Crusader’s idea was another example to me of just how wise and perceptive children can be. Crusader ended up becoming the ‘elder statesman’ of our cabin, respected by all.

Speed, like his best friend Crusader, is also thoughtful. He is one of the quiet ones of the group but always helping out and doing more than his fair share of the chores, like cleaning the cabin and setting the tables for meals in the Lodge.

“Blitz, hurry up.” Blitz is a big kid, at times a little unco-ordinated but forever trying. “Keep up Blitz.”

“Dingo!” wines Cougar.

“Yes Cougar?”

“I want to go back to bed.”

Typical. Cougar can sleep anywhere. I can count on him waking up in the morning and asking how the ending went to the story I told the night before. The kids loved their stories, particularly when they starred in them. For Cougar, though, the activities during the day simply proved too exhausting for him and as a result he would fall asleep almost as soon as I uttered the fateful words ‘once upon a time’.

But Marvel is one who hangs onto my every word. He is another quiet child. I had him in my cabin last year. This year he bought a special Aussie slouch hat to wear at camp. I was moved when he told me I was the reason he returned. All week he has been after the Black Snake story I told his cabin 12 months ago. I promised him that before camp finishes I will tell him again how the black snake got its fangs.

“Get a move on, Dingo!” yells Phantom.

“I’m coming.” Now I’m the one falling behind. I follow the dirt path, it veers to the right. Down the hill the Woods rulers are leaning up against the gate to the waterfront. Just beyond them, the glass top lake. On the right is the jetty, or as the kids call it, the dock, with a big green lifeguard chair near the shore and a jetski, used for rescues, tied to the end. All the canoes and kayaks are stacked neatly next to the small white boathouse on the left.’

I speed up into a trot. “Let’s go!!” We duck under the gate and take off our shirts.

“Who’s going in first?” I ask.

“You are!” I’m told.

“Uhm, I don’t think so. We’re the Woods rulers…”

“…and we do things together”, the rulers chime in.

We saunter onto the dock. Silently convincing ourselves that the water can’t be all that cold. Look, the sun is shining and there is no wind.

“On the count of three, guys. Ready?”

“Whenever you are Dingo.”

“One…two…three.”

Splash!!

My heart stops. I can’t breathe. I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. I get a non-negotiable order from my body, get out! I leap onto the dock and grab my towel. The others are scrambling up behind me, shivering like they’ve never shivered before.’

“Dingo, I’m cold.”

“Grab your towel, Blitz.”

In a moment all I see are seven heads and seven pairs of small feet: in between, seven jittering towels trying to warm up the seven frozen bodies wrapped up inside.

“I wants a hot shower Dingo.”

“You’re on, Phantom. Come on guys, let’s get going.”

We pick up our shirts and head back up the track, passing by our cabin to pick up a change of clothes, then through the forest to a giant clearing. In the middle is a huge two-storey log cabin that is the Lodge. It is the geographic and social centre of camp. It houses the kitchen and dining room; it is where the Wednesday night dances are held and most importantly, at this moment, it is where the showers are.

We hurry past the empty flag pole at the front of the Lodge – the stars and stripes will rise before breakfast at morning assembly.

“No running, Phantom.”

“I’m just walking very fast, Dingo.”

“Mmmmm.”

We head inside. The delicious aroma of hash browns and bacon cooking hits us. The kitchen staff have been up and working for half an hour. The camp director’s awake too.

“Morning guys, how was the swim?”

No response from the Rulers. They have just one thing on their minds.

“Refreshing.” I reply. “See you at breakfast, Bonnie.”

I follow the kids.

“Shhhhhh”, the sound of showers blasting; the hot water is plainly evident from the steam billowing from the cracks around the doors. The Rulers are finally thawing out. It is not long before the familiar and comforting noise of boys laughing and screaming fills the air.

“Guys, I’ll see you out the front of the lodge for breakfast in 15 minutes, I’m going to have a shower too.”

“OK Dingo.”

I head upstairs to the staff showers. I cannot wait. I undress, get in and turn the hot water tap on. The heavenly stream of warmth over my frozen body is simply gorgeous. Aches and pains ooze from my pores, flow down my body into the drain below and far away forever. A polar bear swim followed by a hot shower before breakfast will always beat an alarm clock. There is no better way to start a new day.

Looking back on my time at Lake Wenatchee YMCA camp, I have to say it has been one of the best experiences of my life. From polar bear swims to hiking in the mountains. From canoeing and kayaking during the day to campfires and dances at night. From rafting rivers to cycling the San Juan Islands. Probably the best part about camp is the relationships one develops over the nine weeks. Some of the staff at the camp have become some of my closest friends. Perhaps even more rewarding have been the relationships I have developed with the children and not just those who were in my cabin.

14 year old Jack (not his real name) was a tough kid, requiring more effort to break down the barriers and establish a bond of friendship. He was one of a group of kids I took out on a cycling trip. We spent a lot of time together and in the end became great mates. His brother Rich (not his real name) also touched my heart when he said that I was the best thing about camp. Words cannot adequately describe just how much bonds like those I formed with those two brothers mean to me.

The experiences I had at Lake Wenatchee aren’t peculiar to me. Many of my friends who have worked on summer camps in the US also tell of having great times and making lasting friendships. The support from the group which organised my trip, International Exchange Programs (IEP), was fantastic. IEP arranged my visa, provided cheap travel, put me through training programs in Sydney and New York and organised and paid for my journey from New York to camp.

I am back home now, having returned to the relative boredom of everyday living. I miss the early morning nudges from Phantom, whose behaviour, by the way, never deteriorated during the week – pleasantly surprising my camp director. I miss Engine, Crusader, Speed, Blitz, Cougar, Marvel, James, Rich and all the other friends I have left behind in America. But like many counsellors who are affected by the camp experience, I shall return.