Author Archives: Jeff Carter

Saturday night our gym was loud enough to feel it in your belly. Sunday afternoon the landsports field had music going, a sprinkler spinning, and the whole camp in team jerseys running between game stations. In between those two, on Sunday morning, everyone walked down to the chapel clearing and sat quietly on log benches, and one girl after another stood up to talk about a breeze on her cheek at bedtime, or the sound of the birds at dawn, or the way it feels when a friend hands you something small. Three all-camp events, each with its own rhythm and feeling of togetherness, punctuating the last few days. And in the middle of them, a story about a gift that was supposed to be nothing at all.

So Hot in There

Saturday night we had a dance with Camp Carolina, or I should say, “dances” because we ran two at the same time, so that the girls could be with boys their own age. Our Juniors and Middlers stayed home and welcomed the younger CCB boys into our gym, where our friend Marcus, DJ Dawg, had his sound and light system ready. The kids jumped and bopped through familiar pop songs and the line dances everybody knows, Cotton Eyed Joe, the Macarena, and such. When the gym got too hot, girls spilled outside for gaga ball or tetherball, hula hooping and jumping rope, until they’d cooled off enough to go back in. Partway through Sarah and Lauren passed out chocolate chip cookies. More fuel for the dancing fun.

Meanwhile the Seniors and Hi-Ups loaded onto buses and vans for the trip to the Camp Carolina gym. Some with glitter on their faces, a few in costumes, for the silly fun of it all, they arrived with true girl-power energy that I think surprised the boys a little. Setting loose a group of 100 teenage girls, dressed and ready to dance, is quite a force. A solid hour of dancing, stopping only for water, sweaty and thrilled the whole way through. On the ride home I heard “so hot in there,” (It was!) and from more than one girl, “still really fun!”

Tiny Threads

Sunday mornings run slower here on purpose. We sleep in a little, eat breakfast in pajamas, clean the cabins, put on uniforms, and walk down to the chapel clearing for our weekly gathering, a time to slow down and reflect together on one shared idea. Over the years the name has grown into an acronym we’re fond of: a Celebration of Happiness, Adventure, Peace, Earth, and Love. Campers do the speaking. They volunteer, they write their own remarks, and the adults mostly sit and listen. This week the theme was gifts and gratitude. Each age group took turns stepping up, one camper or pair of campers at a time to speak about what they were grateful for. Between groups we sang songs about gratitude, like the old Shaker song, “Simple Gifts.”

Camper after camper mentioned little things about life at camp that made them feel grateful. The kitchen staff that makes our delicious meals, the strong bonds of friendship they’ve found at camp, small acts of kindness from people they don’t really know well, wonderful moments in nature, the fun of the activities, and the sense of belonging they feel while at Rockbrook were all mentioned.

A senior camper stood up and told everyone she sometimes struggles with anxiety. She described sitting with a friend on the hill and opening up about this. That friend said she had it too, then wrote down the name of her therapist and handed it over. That was the gift she chose to talk about. A name on a piece of paper. A small thing, but also a really big moment where she felt the love and support of camp deeply.

One senior reached all the way back to the night before, and described being grateful for the cars whizzing past the bus on the ride home from the dance, harmonizing with her friends, and just chatting. Then for the katydids that sing everyone to sleep, and the birds that wake her just before the bell so she has time to say good morning to her cabin mates. Tiny threads in a bracelet, she called them. “Gratitude,” she said, “means caring about the small things in life.”

We finished with Sarah reading The Gift of Nothing, by Patrick McDonnell, a lovely short story about true gifts not always being something material. It describes Mooch, who wants to give his best friend Earl a present, but Earl already has what he needs, so Mooch settles on giving him nothing. The trouble is finding it. He walks every aisle at the store and learns that “nothing” is not for sale. So he goes home, puts nothing in a box, then decides Earl deserves a bigger box. “Now that’s plenty of nothing,” he says. When Earl opens it he says, “there’s nothing here.” “Yeah,” says Mooch. “Nothing but me and you.”

One Step Back

After rest hour the landsports field turned into a festival. The girls had been told to pack a jersey and most had taken it seriously, so the field filled with basketball and soccer and football colors and numbers from every team you can think of. The inflatable skill games drew the longest interest, each one a different challenge: kicking a soccer ball through a hole, threading a frisbee through a slot, hitting a wiffle ball at a target. The two space-themed basketball goals were the hardest of the bunch, with the hoops set about fourteen feet up, which turns a free throw with a regulation ball into a full body effort for most of us. The “sandwich relay” run stacked up hula hoops, a sack race, “ingredients” to gather, and a sprint to the finish.

The water balloon toss perhaps pulled the biggest crowd, partly because it moves fast and partly because everybody knows how it ends. A pair of girls toss, both take a step back, toss again, step back again, and the balloon holds and holds until it doesn’t, usually right in the hands of whoever was reaching out to catch it. At the face painting table the stencils were out, and girls walked away with elaborate geometric designs in three and four colors running across their cheeks and down their arms.

What the girls like best about an afternoon like this is being able to wander. Nine square in the air for a while, then over to the craft table to make a foam finger, then back out to something loud. Plus stopping to pose whenever a camera came by, which is its own event at this point.

By evening the field was packed up and the light was going long across the hill. Somewhere in a cabin tonight a girl will lie down and count the day backwards, and the list will be short and specific. A cookie. A breeze. A friend’s smile. The katydids helping her drift off. Gratitude all the way down.

The dining hall windows went dark behind hanging sheets, and everyone knew what that meant. Down in the gym, the cast was running through the second act again. Up on the HUP Palace porch, a Hi-Up was working out what she wanted to say at the fire. The final days of a Rockbrook session bring three big gatherings. There’s the Banquet, then the Play, then the Spirit Fire, and what ties them together is that the girls create all three entirely for one another. There are no parents in the seats, no tickets sold, no one to impress who is not already part of this life. Camp spends a month quietly counting toward all three. These are community events, a camp celebrating itself, its friendships, its shared efforts, and the deep bonds formed over weeks together.

RBC in Wonderland

The banquet theme is a secret every time, guarded jealously by the CAs, our ninth graders, who dream it up early and then spend the session quietly unfolding it inside the mysterious “Cabin 9” at the end of the lower line. This time they took us into Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland, and they made one lovely decision at the outset: there was no Alice. The idea was that every camper walking through the door would fall into Wonderland herself, the way Alice did in the book. They called it “RBC in Wonderland.”

The dining hall came apart into color. Tweedledee and Tweedledum in red hats topped with little yellow flags, white collars, blue bow ties, yellow shirts and red skirts. A row of playing cards, all of them the Ace of Hearts. Flowers in red tops with roses in their hair and more roses in their hands. A lizard, a dodo bird, a green bird, a caterpillar, a dormouse, a walrus and a carpenter, a Mad Hatter and a March Hare, a Cheshire Cat, two flamingos, and of course a white rabbit, with the King and Queen of Hearts presiding over all of it. The counselors came as Mome Raths, those imaginary creatures from “Jabberwocky” that seem to be mostly hair, eyes, and two brightly colored legs.

The program was a run of group dances, each one belonging to a set of characters: The Tea Party, then The Forest, then a number by the Mome Raths, then a croquet game, and finally everyone together in a dance called Lost in Wonderland. Costumes, food, decorations, music, choreography, and skits, all of it wrapped around this delightfully colorful theme.

The Play

The next day brought Annie, the Broadway musical that debuted in 1977 and has been winning people over ever since. Zoe played Annie. Margo took on Daddy Warbucks, and our counselor Blair made a sharp Miss Hannigan. Campers and counselors filled out all of the other parts, with some songs sung by the whole company and some handed to a single girl standing out front on the edge of the stage. When the cast list went up earlier in the session, the thing worth noticing was that everyone who auditioned got a part, which is how it always goes here. Casting works as an invitation rather than a contest for the best voices, and the girls who accept it spend good chunks of their free time in rehearsal, learning lines and harmonies from each other.

Between the acts came the dances. The Juniors, the Middlers, and the Seniors each took the stage with a performance of their own, which meant that a good portion of camp was either in the show or waiting in the wings to be, and the rest of us sat out front cheering for our friends. One number quieted the room. Three pairs of dancers took the floor to Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide,” each pair an older girl or a counselor moving alongside a younger camper. “Well, I’ve been ‘fraid of changin’,” the song goes, “’cause I’ve built my life around you.” And then the line that got everybody. “Even children get older, and I’m gettin’ older, too.”

The Spirit Fire

The Spirit Fire gathers us together again, this time at Vesper Rock dressed in our red and white uniforms. It’s a closing campfire of songs and speeches with a candlelight procession around the lake. The name points to the “Spirit of Rockbrook” and the sense of kindness, caring and community that defines camp life. Campers and staff members alike take turns giving short speeches reflecting on their experience over the course of the session. A striking number of them described how they arrived shy, or a little nervous, or unsure they would fit in, and somewhere in the weeks that followed they relaxed and found themselves connected to more people than they could count. Arm in arm and shoulder to shoulder on the benches, we were reminded about how much we’ve grown at camp and how much Rockbrook has become an important part of our lives.

There’s some sadness mixed in, particularly among the girls old enough to know that this has been their last summer as a camper. Rebecca, in her ninth year, told us that before writing her speech she signed her name in big red letters on the wall of the Hi-Up cabin, then walked down to the J1 cabin to find the signature she left there almost a decade ago. It’s still legible, in slightly sloppier handwriting, across from the names of two girls who are still her best friends. She talked about her journals, and about wanting to read them again in twenty years when her memory has gone fuzzy. What she wants back most is the small stuff. “More importantly,” she said, “we’ll read about the little things, the small moments, and the memories made in between the lines.” Late-night dining hall chats. A spontaneous evening at Castle Rock watching the sun go down in a sea of orange fog. Birthday cake eaten in the walk-in until their stomachs ached. “Sometimes I wish camp wasn’t as meaningful or memorable,” she admitted, “because maybe it wouldn’t hurt so bad saying goodbye.”

Long after the fire burned down and we sang “Day is Done” for the last time this session, the girls, back in their cabins, seemed noisier than you’d expect for a sad night. Screen doors banging, somebody still humming a song, a burst of almost quiet laughing from a dark cabin, a counselor asking without much conviction for everyone to settle down. With the sounds of the forest, the gurgle of the creek, and the chirping of nighttime frogs and crickets, we ended our day. We’ve spent good solid weeks building to these three gatherings, each one a celebration of the community these girls have created together.

If you take the time to scroll through the whole photo gallery each day, rather than relying only on the facial recognition feature to find your daughter, you will eventually come across a photo that’s puzzling. Girls tangled together in some contorted pose. A swimming spot you don’t recognize. A kid in unfamiliar gear, or standing next to a pony, or grinning in front of a rock face that’s clearly nowhere near her cabin. “What is going on?” is the natural question. A photo catches a single second, and most of these snapshots belong to a longer story you can’t easily see. So let me take a handful of this week’s photos and fill in what’s around them.

Start with the featured photo at the top of this post: five girls, ice cream cones in hand, all smiles, with the Dolly’s trolley parked behind them and the hillside lodge farther in the background. Nobody saw that one coming. After lunch on Friday, the trolley from Dolly’s, the beloved ice cream stand at the entrance to the Pisgah Forest, rolled into camp as a surprise for everyone. It was a welcome sweet treat on a warm afternoon, and a happy jolt of surprise on an ordinary Friday.

Then there’s the circle of senior girls holding hands on the Landsports field, one of them halfway through a hula hoop. That was cabin day, when each cabin group dreams up its own adventure for the afternoon, and the Seniors settled on a slate of relay games. In this one, the girls hold hands in a circle and race a hula hoop all the way around it, which means each girl has to step, wiggle, and fold her whole body through the hoop without ever grasping it. The contortions this requires are hilarious, and the photo catches one mid-wiggle. They ran a three-legged race too, plus a sponge-and-bucket water relay and an egg and spoon relay. The photo shows the twist. The laughing you’ll have to imagine.

The unfamiliar swimming spot is a place we call Mermaid Cove, and the girls wading in it are a junior cabin that hiked out to it for their cabin day adventure. It sits along Dunn’s Creek below Rockbrook Falls, and offers a little waterfall dropping into a sandy-bottomed pool, a giant rock face with an overhang rising on one side and the deep forest leading back to camp on the other. Dappled sunlight comes through the trees in the midafternoon, and the water stays cool enough to feel perfect on a warm summer day. The girls can wade right in and play. Some spots at camp feel found rather than built, almost magical really, and this cove is one of them.

Other photos come from farther afield, so it’s worth explaining how trips work at Rockbrook. Beyond the in-camp activities each camper has as part of her regular day, the outdoor adventure staff announces special optional trips most days at breakfast and lunch, trips like rock climbing, kayaking, rafting, hiking, backpacking, and canoeing. One might be a half-day hike or a full day of rock climbing. It could mean hiking to a view, romping through a creek, visiting a nearby swimming hole, or a trip up to the cave under Dunn’s Rock (the “Nest”) for some hammock time. You just never know what will be announced. And because these trips are extra, they present each girl with a real choice: is she willing to skip riflery and tennis tomorrow morning to go rock climbing instead? There always seem to be girls ready to say yes, especially this session.

That’s how a group of senior girls ended up canoeing the French Broad on a two-day, fifteen-mile paddle from Mills River to Asheville. This section is quite wide, and a long stretch runs through the Biltmore Estate, with no houses or development visible from the river. You can even spy the mansion itself from the water in a couple of places. We have accounts of Rockbrook campers paddling this stretch of river back in the 1930s! The girls reported perfect sunny weather the whole way, and the trip ended with a celebration late lunch at a food truck in Asheville. Fifteen miles of paddling earns a good lunch.

The girls in another photo are Middlers who were on a backpacking trip this week. They carried everything themselves, tents and food and water, and hiked about a mile and a half into the forest to set up their campsite not far from the Davidson River. Then they packed a dinner and kept climbing, up to the top of John Rock to eat it while the sun went down. The light gets better and better as it sets up there, shining across the valley onto Looking Glass Rock. It’s easily one of the best hiking views in the Pisgah National Forest.

And the pony carrying that young rider is Zoey. All of our horses have names, of course, and each has a distinct personality, but Zoey is something of a princess at the barn and one of the most popular animals at camp. She’s a Welsh cross pony who has been part of Rockbrook, and of Free Rein, the therapeutic riding program we host during the school year, since about 2018. She loves working with kids and teaching them how to ride, and when a skilled higher-level rider is small enough to ride her, she can even do a little jumping. Zoey has been teaching girls to ride for more summers than many of our campers have been coming to Rockbrook.

Every one of these photos holds more than it shows. Behind the silly pose is a cabin adventure, behind the unfamiliar river is a choice a girl made at lunch, behind the ice cream cones is a surprise the whole camp shared, and behind the pony is eight years of patient teaching. I wish we could somehow capture even more. So when a photo in the gallery leaves you wondering what’s going on, take it as a good sign. It means your Rockbrook girl is in the middle of something that only happens thanks to the richness of camp life. Tonight the girls who paddled past the Biltmore and the girls who wiggled through hula hoops are back on their cabin porches, trading these stories while the creek runs by in the dark. The photos give you a glimpse. The stories are coming home with her.