Greetings from Hilltop. Before I update you on the week we’ve had Four Winds, I want to acknowledge what I know is on many of your minds: the flash floods in the Guadalupe River Valley in Texas. Two summer camps in the region, Camp Mystic and Heart O’ The Hills, suffered unthinkable human loss. I’ll spare you most of the details here. They’re being reported elsewhere by professionals, and the story is still unfolding, but the tragedy is unspeakable. I know you’ll all join me in sending our thoughts and prayers to the campers, staff, and families affected by this tragedy.
As camp professionals, we on the year-round staff spend a good amount of our time and energy thinking about mitigating these types of terrible risks. Obviously, the natural disaster risk in the Pacific Northwest differs from that in other parts of the country, but please be assured that we have undertaken a significant amount of work to mitigate these risks. Events like what happened in Texas keep us up at night as well, and while such risks cannot be eliminated, we do everything we can to minimize them. Young people tend to be somewhat unaware of risk unless it’s immediately present, which can sometimes frustrate the adults who love them. We do everything we can to take that burden on for them, so they can have the pure, innocent experience of being at camp worry-free.
As a parent, I know that hearing about such a horrific disaster at a summer camp while your child is at summer camp can cause primal feelings, and the fact that the affected camp is on the other side of the country doesn’t do much to reduce them. I remember, before I had children, people telling me that the love parents have for their kids is like no other love, that the love we have for our kids is more profound, more intense, less in control, and unconditional in a way that we can’t comprehend until we have children of our own. I remember hearing that and not understanding it. And then I had my kids, and it made complete sense. Any love is a choice to be vulnerable, because to love is to risk loss. And when there is a feeling of threat to our kids, that risk feels bigger. It’s completely understandable.
Though our primal fear exists, we know as parents that while horrific things happen in the world, they are rare, and that an attempt to eliminate such risk from their lives also prevents them from experiencing beauty, adventure, and growth. And so we take a breath, send all our love to the families affected in Texas, feel gratitude for each safe day, write a letter with a bit of extra love in it, and move on.
And, blessedly, the campers at Four Winds are safe. It’s a beautiful day, and the campers are enjoying a wonderful camp Sunday. The campers, most of whom are blissfully unaware of the news, are having a beautiful time, and that is as it should be. At a four-week camp, there needs to be a rhythm. Not to get too flowery with the metaphors at an island camp, but there has to be an ebb and flow. At a one-week camp, the strategy is to keep things high-energy and send the campers home happy and tired. However, doing that at a four-week camp would burn everyone out and ignore the genuine opportunity of a longer-term session.
At just over halfway through the session, we have had two distinct shifts, and we’re about to have another one. In the first week, it’s essential to establish the routine. We need to take care of our beginning-of-session tasks, get the kids oriented, ensure that each camper has at least a handful of peers and staff they feel comfortable with, and get a hang of things. In the second week, we switch things up. We’re going for lots of wish, wonder, and surprise. And so, we have things that are out the ordinary – things like Ruth Day (I’ll throw some explanations in here for the uninitiated – Ruth Day is a surprise day when, instead of regular classes, we engage in an all day scavenger hunt, with themes and memorable characters, all over the property), the Fourth of July (a bit of luck that that lands in the second week, and we celebrate with a cookout, a parade to Deer Harbor, and a concert in the Garden), and Polaris Pals (a series of activities intended to foster mentorship from older campers to younger ones).
The shift about to come is Senior Trips. Senior Trips are an absolute highlight of the Four Winds experience. It’s an incredible opportunity for the campers to immerse themselves in an experience that’s both stunning in natural beauty and rich in group dynamics. It’s a joy to see the campers at this moment, in the lead up to their trips, a bit apprehensive, sometimes about the trip itself and sometimes about the group with whom they’ll be adventuring, but knowing that they’ll return proud of their accomplishments and full of stories of adventure and inside jokes. For the Juniors and Intermediates, there’s the opportunity to have the feel of a smaller camp when the Seniors are gone, leadership opportunities for the oldest Intermediates, and wonderful activities we do only when the Seniors are gone, like Burger Bar (in which the Heads will take over dinner from the Kitchen Staff, decorate the Lodge in a theme, cook burgers, fries, and shakes for the whole camp, each cabin and tent will dress up in their own theme, and we’ll have a movie projected onto a sail for evening activity). It’s going to be a fantastic week for all the campers, and we’re excited to be a part of it.
Thank you, as always, for sharing your children with us. We always feel that gratitude, but perhaps it’s more in focus at moments like these. Please take some comfort in knowing that they’re safe and having a wonderful time. In a world that can feel uncertain, your children’s laughter, resilience, and wonder are daily reminders of why we do this work—and we’re honored to be doing it with them.