Pack Forest Summer Camp

I remember well my many summers spent at Pack Forest.

Hidden away in the forests of Warrensburg, Queen Village of the Adirondacks, the summer camp lies nestled beside a shallow lake surrounded by 2,500 acres of cool, hemlock-shaded trails and hiking grounds. Every morning, campers and staff alike awaken to the surreal call of the loons nested just beyond the waterfront, and every evening, they fall asleep to the cheerful chirping of crickets as they dance about in the grasses of the archery field. By day, these sounds are drowned out by the sharp clicks of woodpeckers as they go about hunting for tasty morsels in the branches hanging over the cabin rooftops. And every once in a while, above all these more familiar sounds, one can sometimes hear the thunderous clap of a beaver tail on the surface of the pond up Hogsback Trail, and the haunting screech of an eagle above the treetops of Benwood Mountain.

Pack Forest Summer Camp has always had a special place in my heart for its diverse landscape and wildlife, and in addition, its commitment to environmental education and conservation. Under the DEC, the Department of Environmental Conservation, Pack Forest has remained an environmental demonstration camp for over twenty years and will remain as such for years to come, giving countless youth from all over New York State the chance to expand their knowledge and skills beyond the traditional classroom setting. At Pack Forest, campers have the opportunity to learn how to canoe, how to fish, how to build effective shelters and take them apart to “leave no trace” behind when camping. They learn how to work together and problem solve when faced with an activity or situation that might seem challenging without good communication. Above all, campers establish everlasting friendships through engagement and fun-filled mayhem that ultimately sticks with them when they leave for home.

I was skeptical when my parents first told me about Pack Forest all those years ago, back when I was merely eleven years old. However, ever since my very first summer there, it's hard to remember ever feeling nervous about going.

I had always had a certain love for the outdoors—I grew up on a 90-acre plot of land with hiking trails and streams all its own, and I was no stranger to ecology and outdoor adventure. My father had taught me how to shoot, how to use a compass, how to move quietly in the woods, how to track wild game. Not only was Pack Forest the perfect place to build on those skills, but it was also the perfect place for me to obtain my hunting license, which I had sought ever since I had first seen my father bring home a deer. With the thought of someday hunting alongside my father in the back of my mind, I packed my things, and together, my parents and I set off to Warrensburg.

Upon arriving at camp for the first time, I was greeted by a sight that I have never forgotten and will never forget: the long winding road leading past the main gate, completely covered by gorgeous deep green hemlock trees. I was in awe as our truck rolled through what seemed like an endless tunnel of fresh pine and thick underbrush. The woods seemed so quiet and serene, all I could think of was home. Rather than beg my parents to turn around as I had been considering the entire trip, I asked if they could speed up. With such beautiful trees here to greet me, I could hardly contain my excitement. I wanted to see the rest of camp.

As we continued down the road, the lake rolled up along our right side, allowing some light to stream in through the tight knit branches of the hemlocks. The lake was obviously man made—tree stumps loomed in the shallows of the water now blanketed by algae and mussels. However, as we passed by the waterfront, now approaching the cabins and camp lodge, the water seemed to wink at us as the surface shimmered in the gentle sunlight. The lake looked clear and healthy, and the reflection of the trees and rocks off the water made it look all the more inviting. I couldn’t see any loons yet, but based on what we had read online, there was a mated pair of loons that frequented the lake throughout the summer season. I knew I’d see them, or at least hear them, soon enough.

After signing in and unloading everything from the truck, it was time for me to join the other campers for swim tests and move in. Camp would last a week, only six days and five nights, but for some strange reason, despite the fact that I had barely set foot out onto the gravel paths surrounding the cabins, I felt as though camp would last a lifetime. I was afraid that as soon as I let my parents out of my sight, I’d be stuck there forever. While there were many tears as I hugged my parents goodbye and watched them leave in my father’s truck, once I was left on my own, I felt the anxiety that had accompanied the mere thought of staying at camp begin to fade away. Now that I was there, surrounded by other campers just like me and a wilderness all too familiar, I felt assured that in journeying to Pack Forest, I had made the right choice.

Later that evening, after everyone was settled in, all of us campers were told to get into warm clothes, put on bug spray, and meet outside the cabins. Confused but curious as to what was happening next, we all changed and circled up outside the cabins just as dusk fell. The counselors all smiled at us and instructed us to take each other’s hands. Giggling at the silliness of the idea, we all clasped hands, making sure there were no gaps in the circle. After doing a thorough head-count, the counselors clapped their hands together to get our attention.

“Follow us,” they shouted, waving their arms in the air, “we’re moving this party to the beach! Keep holding hands, be careful where you step, and we’re off!”

Chattering amongst ourselves, the counselors led us down to the campfire circle just outside the waterfront. With a perfect view of the lake, we all sat down around the fire, still holding hands as we slid onto the benches, taking in our surroundings. Camp truly transformed when the sun went down.

Before us was a blazing fire boxed in by rocks of all shapes and sizes. Just outside the circle was a field leading to the camp herb garden now blanketed by the light flickering and fluttering of lightning bugs and moths. Beside the lake were pine trees, no hemlocks, but towering spruces that stretched out over the water and up towards the clouds, casting deep shadows over the water’s edge.

What held our gaze most, however, was the incredible night sky. As the flames of the campfire licked at the air, its embers curled and leapt up into the night, blending with the stars as they spread out in massive waves across the cosmos. Even the counselors paused here and there to glance upwards, mesmerized by the spectacular view of the Milky Way. As they began pointing out constellations and planets hopelessly mixed in with the peppered stars, I remember thinking to myself what a privilege it would have been as a staff member to be able to go out on any given night of the summer and see such a radiant sky. It’s one of the many virtues of Pack Forest that still amazes me to this day—the beauty of those bright Adirondack stars, and the clearness of those summer nights. I've volunteered and worked at Pack Forest many times in more recent years, and I have to say, I'm still searching for a night sky that compares.

As quiet settled over our group, the camp director stood and made her way to the fire. Picking up a small stick, she turned towards us, and smiled.

“Campers, friends, welcome to Pack Forest. I am your Camp Director, and tonight is a very special night as it's the very first night of camp! I have here the ‘talking stick’,” she exclaimed, as she held up the stick wrapped in scarred birch bark for all of us to see. “What I want you to do for me is take this stick—we’ll start on this end—and each of you will say your name, where you are from, and what you are most looking forward to here at camp.”

As the stick was passed around, I thought hard about what my response would be. I felt like I should say the Hunter Safety course was what I was looking forward to most, but that would’ve been a lie. Yes, I wanted my hunting license—more than anything else at that time—but I knew I would have to sit through hour after hour of repetitive coursework that I already knew in order to get it. While my father had talked up the course on the trip, I wasn’t all that thrilled about it. I needed a different answer. I needed an answer that would convey my growing excitement about camp, an answer that would show everyone that I belonged here. When that stick finally made it to me, I took a deep breath, and spoke.

“My name’s Maddy, I’m from Chatham, and what I’m most looking forward to at camp is having an amazing week with everyone in this circle.”

As I passed the stick off and wiped the sweat from my forehead, an odd, reassuring sound reached my ears. For a fleeting moment, somewhere off on the lake, I could’ve sworn I heard the faint cry of a loon, and the splash of its wings in applause. A quiet smile graced my lips as I settled in for opening campfire. The counselors played instruments, performed skits, and sang songs as the other campers and I roared with laughter. Little by little, we all started to sing and dance along. We reveled in the reassurance of not knowing one another, though we all knew in the back of our minds that that would surely change over the next several days.

In all the goofiness of that first night at camp, there was an overwhelming feeling of warmth in the air. Not the warmth of the fire, but the warmth of camp spirit, of the fabled "Pack Magic" that greeted each and every camper.

It was the heart-warming feeling of welcome.