Indy's Camp Aharah Memories

The Waterfront – Part 2               I was eight years old and could not row a boat. I had seen many campers rowing many boats in that first week of summer camp. Push the oars forward; dip them down; pull back through the water; repeat. It was simple, so simple that just a few minutes earlier I had sat in the rowing seat while a counselor named John untied the boat and pushed me away from the dock. The easy rhythm had pulled me away a bit awkwardly at first as I got used to the balance. Soon I was in the middle of Lake Pebwama. I spent the waterfront time doing a slow tour around the lake. But the waterfront director had blown the whistle, signaling the boats to return. I rowed toward the dock. When I was about 25 yards out, John yelled, “Okay, turn it around so I can tie it up.” Turn it around? I was flummoxed. I knew how to go forward. I had the concept but little experience in going in reverse. How do you turn the rowboat around? I could feel my face turn red as I tried to so

Seeing the waterfront today, I realize how much work went into maintaining it each year. The lakeweed has grown over the annual layers of sand that we shoveled into the swimming area. Tall grasses have taken over the beach. A few pilings that were once connected by yellow plastic rope and formed the outer barrier that separated the swimming area from the rest of the beach are still standing. Lake Pebawma is a spring-fed lake with a muck bottom. If you swim down to what seems like solid soil, your hand and arm will disappear into at least a foot of loose dirt, dead leaves, and other rotting vegetation. It swallowed up the cement blocks that anchored the floating raft in the deepest swimming area. It swallowed up any number of personal effects that lifeguards dropped from that same raft.  Each summer, we practiced the blue water search as part of a missing camper drill. When the waterfront director called the search, several staff members would jump into the deepest swimming area and fo