Forest Cliff Camp

There is nothing like going to sleep away camp when you're a kid. I was lucky enough to go three times in my life.

When I was eight I went to a small, close to home sleep away camp called camp Bimini.  I didn't care for it much.  I guess I should really say, it didn't make much of an impression on me back then.  It was one of those camps where there are lots of shacks in the middle of a bush and hey, well we'll call this a camp.  The rules were a bit laxed, the counsellors were kids, and there was no where to swim except a pool, and I could get that at home.  I appreciated the week away, but never asked to go there again.

A couple of years later I discovered an ad in the London Free Press for a sleep away camp. It boasted about being on the beautiful shores of lake Huron, close to Forest Ontario, but most importantly it said it had horse riding.  All I saw was the horse riding part.  I told my mom about it, and that I absolutely had to go there because I never get to ride horses and this would give me the chance, and also it was two weeks so she would get a longer break from me.  Two very good selling points in my mind.  My mom inquired about it, found out that it was a bit more money than she really thought they should spend and that it was a Baptist Church camp. 

Now I didn't know why it being a Baptist Church camp would matter, I was pretty sure even the Baptises were interested in having fun, and that I was also pretty sure I wouldn't come home a Baptist if my mom didn't want me to be one. All I wanted was to get my hands on a horse for two whole weeks.  Well, I guess my arguments worked because she signed the permission form, sent away the cheque and had me booked for two weeks.  I couldn't wait.

Okay, so if you have ever been to summer camp you know that it always sounds like such a good idea in Feb but when the day actually comes around to going you can't get your feet to move because you are scared.  Well, that was me.  The closer to going the more scared I got, until the final day when I am sure I cried most of the ride to London in the back seat of my parents car. 

My mom, of course, told me in no uncertain terms that she had paid a small fortune for me to go and so I was going.  She tried to convince me that it would be fun, and "don't forget about the horses, you will get your hands on horses for two whole weeks, remember".  Well, obviously I remembered, but that didn't change the fact that I didn't know anyone, and was absolutely sure that the mean old witches (councillors) would be mean to me and make fun of me.

Well you know when we got to the Baptist Church parking lot, my mom got out of that car, opened the trunk and put my suitcase beside the school bus that was there to take us to the camp.  She then opened my door, took my hand, and took me to the person in charge.  She told them my name, they checked it off their list, she handed me my bag and told me to have a good time and then went back to her car and drove off waving.

Well I had no choice but to board that bus and get my scaredy cat butt to camp or else I was going to have to walk the 40 kms home.

You know how it all turns out. You get on that bus, someone in charge makes everyone say hello to everyone and tell them their names and where they are from and before you know you are all having a blast and enjoying the ride.

The camp was better than I thought it was going to be.  There were tether ball area's, lots of cabins, bathrooms with showers, a tuck shop, a dinning hall and lots of places to have camp fires.  I had two councillors, they both were so nice, but one of them was one of the sweetest people I had ever met.  She had some sort of kidney disease, which meant that she had to take things easy and watch what she ate, but other than that she was lots of fun. 

I remember when the bus pulled into the gates, there was a group of people there to welcome us, some even started down the road before we were even at the camp.  They were making lots of noise and singing, and waving hello.  I thought what a great two weeks I am going to have.  When we got off the bus it was a bit confusing, kids going here and there.  I sort of just stood off a bit, out of the commotion, waiting for my name to be called.  There were two very tanned girls playing tether ball close to where I was standing.  I found out, by eves dropping, that they were Americans (real live Americans at my camp, wow!! )  They had the most interesting names, something like Marybeth or Lizbeth or something like that.  They looked like they were from California or something, very tanned and very skinny (like the ones you see in the magazines).  I never actually got to know them or anything (which was too bad because they were one of the first real live Americans I had ever actually met in real life).

The two weeks went by fast.  We were busy from sun up to sun down and no one ever had to tell me twice to go to sleep, oh except for the first night and the night that there was this great big thunderstorm and we thought the cabin was going to be blown over by a tornado, but other then that, when my head hit the pillow it was dream land for me.

Everyday we had some sort of sports activity, like tether ball, or volley ball or one day I even got to learn how to shoot an arrow into a bail of straw~now your talkin!!  We always had craft time, I made a nice cross made out of used wooden matches (no mom, I promise not to come home a Baptist), and I made something out of wood, but I can't remember what that was.  It was all fun stuff to do, and then we went swimming in Lake Huron every afternoon, unless it was raining and then we would go and sing songs and stuff like that.  The water was cold, but I loved it!  We always had to go in with a buddy, so you had to line up with your buddy and walk into the water hand in hand.  You could let go once you got in, but you had to stay within arms length at all times.  I remember a couple of times having a hard time finding a buddy to go into the water with, but most of the time we just wanted to get into that water so we choose buddies quickly.  Then in the later afternoon we would go ride horses. 

I took an elective during one of the weeks that allowed me to learn all I could in a week about a horse.  I loved it so much, I got to feed the horse, wash the horse, clean the feet (did you know the thing inside a horses hove is called the frog, well I do and that's because I learned all about it at that camp).  One afternoon I was waiting my turn to get out on a big white horse.  She was the biggest horse there, and I couldn't wait to ride her.  There was a storm rolling in, we could see it out in the distance over the lake.  The clouds made me nervous because I thought the storm would come and I wouldn't get my change on the big white horse.  Well, my turn came and the storm was still off in the distance, so I got up onto her back.  There was a circle in the field that you rode around.  You were by yourself on the horse, but it wasn't anything like having free rane with it.  I didn't really care, I was on the horse I wanted and nothing was going to take that away from the joy I was experiencing.  All of a sudden there was a crack of lightning, I could just see it out of the corner of my eye as the horse went up onto her back legs and took me with her.  I couldn't tell we were up in the air, all it felt like to me was that I needed to hold onto that horn on the saddle tighter for a minute.  She came back down, and by then there was someone out in the field getting us back to the barn before the rain storm hit.  When I got back to the barn and off the horse everyone was telling me how I rode her right up into the air.  That was such an exciting thing for me, even though I didn't have any real idea what it all meant.

Each night we would sit by a big campfire and sing songs, tell stories, and hear about past summers at camp.  There was a councillor there that was nick named "Trucker".  I didn't realize it then but now I realize that she was what you would call the typical lesbian (now I am not saying she actually was, but she looked the part).  She was funny and always had great stories to tell.  She actually sticks out the most for me now, I am not sure if it was because at the time I could identify with her, even though I had no idea at the time, or if it was just because she was kind of a larger than normal personality and I just took note of her more.  Either way, she made camp life lots of fun.

The two weeks came to an end and did I cry.  Boy oh boy, I did not want to get on that bus and go home.  I was so sad.  The bus ride back to London was a great deal quieter than the one too.  Everyone was tired, sad, and didn't want it to end.

My mom was there, waiting beside a new car for me to get off the bus.   She put my bag into the trunk, asked me how it went, and then told me about the new car.  I was pretty quiet on the ride home, I just was enjoying looking out the window and remembering all the new friends and new experiences I had, and hoping I would get to go again.

I cried for a few days after returning, actually I cried alot, so much so my dad had to yell at me to stop.  I stopped, but I was still sad that it ended. 

I loved Forest Cliff Camp, and am so grateful I got to go two summers in a row.  They are all good memories!  And just for the record, I did not come back a Baptist, but I sure do like them :)