CAMP Essay, Research Paper
Camp
As the big tour bus pulls onto the long never ending dirt road, the shouts
could be heard for miles around. Branches scratch the sides and roof of the bus.
Windows are open and the fresh summer air glides into the bus. The dirt flies up
from the road and kisses the bus? sides. Approaching the same old grassy
parking lot, emotions start to fill up. Getting off the bus, finding the bags
brought to camp, and walking the twisted paths, getting to the cabin is most
exciting. The door of the cabin has a moth eaten screen covering half of the
door. Rusty and paint chipped handles are on either side of it. They feel cold
each time some one touches it to open or close the door. There are thin walls
are covered in white paint which separate the cabin in to 4 claustrophobic
rooms. Under the paint, there are black marker graffiti from previous years.
Reading that graffiti makes you feel more at home, because it?s never bad.
There are two main sleeping rooms with 4 beds in each. Even though it?s the
first day, the rooms smell like dampness and sweat. It will only get worse as
time goes on, with all those wet bathing suits hanging up, and people sweating
after those hardcore soccer games.
Long winding paths with roots sticking up from the ground lead to every where
you want to go. The roots look like twisted arms and hands waiting for some
unsuspecting victim to cross it?s path and get dragged to the ground. There
are big leaf filled branches hanging over the paths to make a nice shady place
to walk under on those really hot days or when it?s raining.
When it rains at camp, people hibernate in the lodge or their cabins. As the
rain hits the tin roofs of the cabin, it makes a loud tapping noise. Outside,
things on the clothesline get drenched. From the window, the branches are
visible. They do a wild dance and slam against the cabin walls. Lighting
crashes, making the girls scream. The scream echoes throughout the girls
section.
Big and old sits the lodge, painted white with green window frames and big
wooden steps leading to a wooden porch. A silver metal handle is placed to open
the screen door with. The floor of the lodge is very weak and every time someone
walks over it, it bounces up and down. There are 10 white tables set around the
crowded room. On some tables there are huge pinkish splotches of juice stained
on them. The screen windows are scattered around. There is a light wooden porch
in the back that leads down to lover?s rock and the sailing dock. From the
dock you can see the dark blue water rippling all over the place. The big, white
puffy
Pine trees reflected in the water add color the water to make a more vibrant
lake.
All around the counselors lodge it smells like a mixture of men?s cologne
and cigarette smoke and the TV is always blasting. The rocky path in front of
the counselors? lodge leads to the even more rocky boat beach. There is an old
termite eaten dock on the beach and behind that is where all the mold filled
life jackets are kept. The sand is very rocky and no one takes off ones shoes or
sandals. There are a few sailboats gracefully bobbing up and down in the crystal
clear water and the wind makes them point in a certain direction. The old
volleyball net is hung across the swim beach where the sand there is really soft
and hot under the powerful sun. There is a rack full of new, beautiful white
windsurf boards. The fins are pitch black and very sharp looking, jutting out of
the board.
Soon, the end of camp creeps up behind you, unsuspectingly. The last night
there is always a campfire. People hug each other. The fire is beautiful.
Dancing, singing, bright red fire. Whip, whirl, wildly, freely, madly. Out of
control, snap, crack, groan. Inferno blazes with hatred and sorrow. Shrieking,
yelling, shouting blazing smoke engulfed hell, bright red hell fire. Sugar is
tossed over it to remind people of how loving this camp is to every one.
Staying awhile at this camp, beginning to relate to the wonderful life and
basically getting a second family and home, a life lesson is being taught day by
day. When it?s time to leave camp, no one wants to leave at all. No more going
to see the same smiling faces every morning, waking up to the same people,
hearing the same people laughing at you when you spill something, or hearing the
same scratchy voices sing grace before each and every long meal. The tears come
as the first steps are made on to the bus. Sorrowful sobs and whimpers fill the
thick summer air. Random people hug each other and make promises to keep in
touch, and not forget each other. As the bus goes up the rocky, never- ending
road, the pebbles slap the bus? sides. The crying gets louder and more
annoying the farther the bus goes up the road. Soon the crying stops and people
start talking and laughing again. The bus pulls into the shopping center parking
lot and people get off the bus and find their loving parents, get in the car,
and go home thinking about the summer, and every thing that happened to them. No
matter how many summers people spend there, they will always have an imprint of
that first summer, where they make friends. Camp is amazing.