the heartbeat of the camp is the kitchen
BY JULIANN GARDNER
I often wondered what it would be like to be a fly on the wall when I sent my daughter off to camp each summer. As Grace returned to Ogichi summer after summer, I longed to know what filled those weeks. At the end of each summer, I was always met with a stronger, more independent young woman; she returned from camp fuller and more aware of who she was and who she wanted to be.
Early this past spring, Grace, now 28, asked if I might apply to work in the kitchen at Ogichi for a summer. Peggy and Erica were looking for one more to round out their crew and Grace suggested that I would likely enjoy a summer at camp. With my skills from home cooking and a few kitchen gigs over the years, I felt prepared to take on the job. What I was not prepared for, though, was how much I would learn from the young women I met at Ogichi.
The kitchen at Ogichi has a heartbeat, full of energy from 5:45 every morning until the last dishes are put away at 7:30 at night. The love and care from the kitchen crew are felt in each meal. The kitchen would often welcome campers wandering in throughout the day, curious about what the next meal might be or just wanting to chat as if they were at home, checking in with their mom over the kitchen counter.
Outside of the kitchen, in-camp activities buzzed. I loved catching glimpses of staff teaching how to build, create, and problem-solve. Mostly I heard laughter, the kind that is shared when a safe space is provided for all.
My favorite ritual was the sending off and welcoming home of trips. Campers left in the early mornings, sleepy-eyed and squeaky clean, packed with anticipation. They returned differently, sharing smiles that knew how far they had traveled. Each would take up her now familiar bundle of belongings and carry it with confidence, making sure to return until the last pack was gathered and the last canoe portaged. They were exhausted, but part of a whole, covered in smudges and carrying the lingering smells of a campfire.
Grace had hoped I would return from Ogichi with a better understanding of what so many accumulated summer days had done to make her the woman she is today. In her career, she now designs leadership programs for young college women. She continues to craft and create, and still appreciates a hardcore workout and a lingering fireside chat. She understands getting along with others when times may be challenging. I imagine each girl I met this summer brought home a similar set of skills and tools, wrought and honed through her time spent in the wilderness surrounded by the care and joy of the community at Ogichi Daa Kwe.
This article was originally published in the Fall 2022 issue of Songs of the Paddle.