Community Blog

I have been fortunate to participate in camp all through my life. Summer Camp has played, for me, an encouraging role in taking on the challenges that come with the rest of the year, as a developing child, an emerging teenager, a parent, and now a senior citizen.

I was eight years old when I had my first experience of camp life. I was pretty young for my age, and not too sure I wanted to go. In fact I was homesick, and came home after only one week of a three-week stay. It was a cub camp, located on Bowen Island, and the first time away
from home. Despite my homesickness, I had some positive experiences: I caught my first fish, a shiner caught with a worm on a line and hook from the dock. I wanted to keep it as a momento, maybe get it stuffed, so I wrapped it up in newspaper and put it in my suitcase. My father, being
very understanding, put it in a jar with vinegar after I got home. Also I remember the ‘bug juice’, the stuff you drank (I think it was probably some sort of lime or grape juice to prevent scurvy). I also remember the encouragement I got from friends who were not so homesick. All
good.
Several years later, I ventured back into camp life, at a Y camp in Burrard Inlet, somewhere near where Port Moody is today. It was a pretty big camp, organised into a number of big tents, with a leader for each tent. I remember liking it, but some of the others had problems away from
home. We had chores to do, each morning. I peeled a lot of potatoes. Our leader took our tent on an overnight excursion by boat to a nearby beach, where we camped out for the night, and dug up clams, to steam in a pot. A real adventure. He told us stories of his pioneering grandfather, who came out on a wagon train (Now I’m not sure if they were true, but it didn’t matter then.).
When I was in my early teens, we moved from Vancouver up to Trail in the Kootenays. Those years are tumultuous anyway, and I found it difficult to adjust socially to a new crowd. School was not a friendly place for me that year, and I found myself alone much of the time. The following summer, I went to a Y camp on the Arrow Lakes, with other boys from Trail and the neighbouring towns. It was a big switch from junior high life, everyone was friendly, and we were all accepted. The change for me was wonderful. I went from being fearful to confident.
At the same time, I began going camping on my own, or with other kids. We were close to wilderness, and I took advantage of it. I belonged to Boy Scouts, and we learned to look after ourselves in the wild. Those times were good growing times, and I am very thankful for our patient leaders, who put up with us, and made us a little more civilized to boot. More good camp experiences.

On to adulthood. I was not to go back to Summer Camp for a number of years, until I was married, with a young family, out in the workforce, living in the Ottawa area. I had been away from church since my mid-teens, and it was my wife Mary who maintained a church connection.
Eventually, I did go back, and make a serious commitment to God. That first year upon returning, we were learning much about our new church. We went to an Anglican Camp run out of the diocese of Toronto, Camp Koinonia, located near Parry Sound. Aside from the staff who were there for the summer, the Family Camp was run by a lead couple, who organised things, and a spiritual leader, who provided teaching. Each family was assigned a cabin, and there were both separate and joint events for adults and children. We had a wonderful time, our two children fit in with all the other children, and we met some very good friends. It was just the right thing for us at the time.

I could talk about the summer camps our children went to. They were good experiences, with some down times, as well as mostly good times. As a family, we took a number of canoe trips, typically a few days, camping out and eating over bonfires. Finally with a grown family, and retiring, we had decided to retire to Westbank; three years before, we had visited St. George’s and liked it – a very friendly congregation. So when we moved, September 1998, on Sunday we expectantly went to St. George Church, only to find a sign on the door saying that due to
family camp, the Sunday service would be out at Camp Owaissi. Being adventureous, we took ourselves there, to find the congregation and service.
Needless to say, we were warmly welcomed, and even recognised from our previous visit. Of course we were invited to lunch, and have stayed ever since.

My final entry is a recounting of our Camp Owaissi adventures, mostly though Family Camp: Games night, where a very nice older couple (Bob and Doreen Fitzpatrick) invited this solitary gamer (Mary didn’t play games) to join them in Cribbage; working in the kitchen, not always following the established order of things; bringing frisbee golf (a game I learned at Camp Koinonia) to the camp; swimming; canoeing; lawn bowling;
work days cleaning up the camp. All good stuff. My prayer for Camp OAC, is that it continues to be a place of refreshment, encouragement,
and discovery for children, teens, adults, families, and seniors. It is a wonderful ministry.

– Bob Jenkins