It was ten o’clock on a Friday night and a cold winter night at that. I drank the rest of my coffee and walked out of the Campmaster’s office and headed across the parking lot. Looking up at the sky, I saw a thick cloud covering. Everyone was tucked into their cabins to escape the cold and wind.
As I crossed the bridge near the dam, the cloud cover parted, the wind died down and a bright moon lit the camp like a spotlight. The thick layer of snow on the ground made camp very quiet. With nobody moving but me, the silence could almost be felt.
As the moon brightened, the trees on the hills lit up, their branches coated with a sparkly coating of ice from the freezing rain of the last few days. The moonlight and its reflection were so bright; it almost hurt your eyes.
I headed up towards the West Well and stopped nearby as the road crossed North Brook. I sat down and dangled my feet over the frozen brook. In the moonlight, you could see the water running down several small cascades under the ice covering. The stream’s soft gurgling was the only sound I could hear. I can rarely remember ever feeling so at peace.
Just then, the crunch of snow came from some approaching boys from one of the Boy Scout troops in camp. I sat still, unwilling to break my spell. As they walked by, it was clear that they never saw me sitting just a few feet off the road. I could hear them talking about what they were going to do tomorrow after breakfast. They filled their water containers and headed back. I moved and startled them. They were curious as to why some crazy adult was sitting all by himself out in the cold. I told them how relaxing and enjoyable it was to be out in camp in the quiet. Their faces told me what they were thinking – another crazy adult. I wanted to tell them that some day they would look for a place to sit like this. They crunched on through the snow, returning to their warm and noisy cabin.
I started back to the office and watched the reflection of the moon on the ice of the lake. This is a magic place, full of peace and beauty. I hope it stays like this forever so that people can sit where I did and find their own peace someday. They too will learn how precious a gift our camp is.
Reprinted from the April 1997 Old Guard Gazette
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Last updated: June 17, 2007