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Instead of the rising bell ringing, hoofbeats came pounding up the cabin lines this morning. Riders decked out in red, white and blue, their horses just as dressed up with ribbons and paint, clopped along yelling “The British are coming! The British are coming!” Still in their pajamas, girls tumbled out of their cabins and made their way to the hill, hair in every direction, blinking at horses in the early light. I love this tradition even after all these years I’ve watched it, if only for the two seconds of pure confusion on a new camper’s face when she realizes those are, in fact, horses outside her window.

On the hill, small red, white and blue BombPops were waiting for everyone, cold enough to finish waking up whatever the horses hadn’t already startled out of them. Then came the more solemn turn of the morning: the Hi-Ups raised the American flag, and the whole camp recited the Pledge of Allegiance and sang “America the Beautiful” together. It’s a strange, lovely sequence when you stop to think about it: Revolutionary War references, an unexpected sugary treat, and then all our voices finding the same note before breakfast. Only camp could make all three feel like they belong in the same five minutes.

At Rockbrook, the 4th of July is a sort of compounded celebration. Every day at camp is already a celebration with singing at meals, cheering at activities, the small triumphs everyone shares out loud. On the 4th, we kick it up further and paint all of that red, white and blue— bright colors poured straight into the celebrating that was already well underway. It’s one long, sanctioned invitation for everybody to be as joyfully ridiculous as they can manage, together, with the friends they’ve made so far this session.

By the time everyone reached the dining hall for breakfast, the decorations were in place: posters, streamers, and red-white-and-blue tablecloths turning every table into its own colorful parade. And it was then time to show off the costumes. One counselor arrived in a full Founding Father costume, powdered wig and long coat included, looking like they’d wandered in from 1776. Marston, our staff director, went a different direction entirely and became the Statue of Liberty for the day— green from head to toe, paper torch held high, playing the part with total conviction. Elsewhere, faces were painted into full American flags, headbands and beaded necklaces multiplied by the hour, and more than one camper had rigged herself a flag cape for the occasion. By mid-morning, it was hard to find anyone who hadn’t found some way to dress for the holiday.

The morning itself kept to its regular schedule of activities— archery, riding lessons, weaving, the usual rhythm of a Rockbrook day. What made it different was everywhere you looked: flashes of red, white and blue scattered across every activity area, a Founding Father wandering past the climbing tower, a green-painted Lady Liberty checking in on the schedule. Camp doesn’t need much of an excuse to feel festive, but on a day like this, the ordinary and the ridiculous ran right alongside each other, compounded for full effect.

Lunch on the Hill

Lunch gave us a picnic on the hill, plates balanced on laps, sun and shade on the grass with the mountains off in the distance. Rick and his kitchen crew had barbecue chicken and barbecue meatballs going, plus a barbecue tofu for anyone who wanted it, alongside corn on the cob, homemade coleslaw and potato salad, cornbread, and watermelon— enough food that nobody left the hill still hungry. To drink, cans of Cheerwine, kept cold in the creek since morning, made their way into everyone’s hands, a treat we save for days exactly like this one.

An Afternoon of Choices

After Rest Hour, the schedule opened into an afternoon of choice activities. At 3:00 pm, about fifty campers and counselors laced up for the ninth annual Betsy Ross Two-Miler, a running loop out through the camp woods. Afterwards, everyone moved between whatever activity option caught their interest: tie-dying socks red, white and blue, embroidering bandanas in needlecraft, painting a 4th of July banner for the dining hall, or wading into the creek for basket making and watercolors. Down at the lake, teams raced through watermelon relays, while archers aimed at balloons taped to their targets, and over at riflery, paper targets gave way to empty soda cans. At the land sports field, campers turned water guns on each other with more enthusiasm than accuracy, and a badminton tournament ran alongside the regular tennis matches at the courts.

Threaded through all of it was a running bingo game, cards filled in by tracking down the right person or scene: someone wearing 4th of July socks, someone with a full flag painted on her face, a camper from Washington, D.C., three people who weren’t from the United States at all.

Pie, Twilight, and Fireworks

As dinner wound down (which was a fantastic meal of homemade lasagna, salad and bread), six counselors gathered at a table on the hill for a pie-eating contest. With their hands behind their backs, faces first into the tins, and the whole camp gathered around to watch and cheer them on, they did everything they could to finish their pies. There is something enthralling, and admittedly a little gross, about watching someone disappear face-first into pie filling. But the uproarious cheering kept everyone going, and soon, to everyone’s relief, there was a clear winner to congratulate. Congrats, Hayley!

As the sky started to dim, campers and counselors filled up the hill again, this time for a dance party that carried straight from twilight into full dark, glow sticks cracked and swinging, music loud enough to pull everyone onto their feet. Once it was good and dark, around 9:30 pm, the fireworks began, and two hundred girls who’d spent the whole day being loud and silly, so freely celebrating, cheered and sang along to each colorful blast in the sky.

When the last firework had faded and the smoke cleared over the lake, all that extra color from the day, the face paint and glitter, was beginning to fade too, ready to be washed off before bed. But underneath, something more lasting remained, something true about every full day of camp: two hundred girls walking back to their cabins in the dark, glow sticks dim around their wrists, a little more attached to each other than they had been that morning. That part of our days doesn’t wash off.

Right after lunch, the cast list for Annie Jr. went up outside the dining hall, and for a few minutes there was no other news in camp. Everyone who auditioned found her name attached to a part. And there are a lot of parts to this show. Think of the orphans! Everyone seemed happy with their parts, smiling and chattering all the way to rest hour.

By afternoon, the news of the day had moved on to Cabin Day, our Wednesday afternoon break from camp’s usual rhythm. Most days, campers build their own schedule out of dozens of activities, choosing four and following whatever interests them most. On Cabin Day, that scatter comes back together as each cabin group makes a plan together for the whole afternoon.

Down on the Farm

Four Junior cabins started their Cabin Day with a sweet stop at Dolly’s before heading out to Further Up Farm, where the Manner family was waiting with a flock of chickens, a couple of ducks, and a turkey named Albuquerque who seemed to know he was the main attraction. Campers waded into the creek to mine for treasure, gathered wildflowers for arrangements bound for the dining hall tables, and spent a long, unhurried stretch getting to know the farm’s animals up close.

Soda Dives at the Lake

Back at camp, a handful of cabins gathered at the lake for soda dives, a Cabin Day classic that never gets old. Someone tosses a few cans to the bottom, and cabinmates take turns diving down after them. Whoever comes up with a soda in hand gets to relax and enjoy it, cold and fizzy, while the rest of the cabin explores the water further. Yes, at the end of the summer when we drain the lake (something we do each year), we always find a few elusive cans at the bottom.

Treasure Around Camp

Other cabin groups spent the afternoon on a pirate-themed scavenger hunt, dreamed up by their counselors. Clues were scattered across camp, and campers collected gold coins along the way before landing in the dining hall for a well-earned bowl of cabin-made Puppy Chow.

Sprinklers and Sunshine

Down at the land sports field, sprinklers ran and water balloons flew, a good defense against the heat of the day. A spray of water, whether from a sprinkler or a well-aimed balloon, feels great on a beautifully clear afternoon.

Hot Dogs and Sliding Rock

Dinner brought the whole camp back together for an American classic, hot dog night! We’re starting to get into the spirit of the 4th of July around here. The HUPs had a great time thinking of a few “American” songs to sing in the dining hall. S’mores bars closed out the meal, and not long after, the Middler cabins climbed onto buses bound for an evening at Sliding Rock, which is always a blast.

It’s easy to look at a day like this and think it’s a little crazy— chickens and gold coins, fizzy sodas and flower arrangements, and a turkey with an extra large name. I suppose in a way it is, but it’s also girls feeling right at home in the middle of it, finding a place for themselves no matter what’s happening next.

This week the thermometer at camp has been bumping a little past 90 by the afternoon, building the kind of bright, humid heat that brings to mind places deeper in the south. Overnight is another story. That’s when our altitude provides a welcome break and the mercury drops back just below 70. Even during so-called “heat waves,” our fresh mountain air makes for genuinely wonderful sleeping. But daytime is daytime, and by early afternoon there’s really one main thing that comes to mind: getting in the water. Fortunately at Rockbrook, that’s never hard to do. Clear and chilly mountain streams tumble down and through camp, filling our lake. And a short drive away is the notoriously cold Nantahala River where we take our campers whitewater rafting.

Today it was our oldest girls, the Seniors, who spent the day rafting on the Nantahala River. Whitewater rafting has been a Rockbrook tradition since the early 1980s, when we became the only girls camp in the area to hold our own Forest Service permit, which lets us schedule and guide our own trips with our own equipment. The river runs a fast, toe-numbing 50 degrees or so, cold enough to make each splash arch your back with a wide-eyed scream. Every boat spends the two-hour trip alternating between calm floating stretches and bursts of whitewater, girls paddling, singing, posing for photos with their paddles held up like victory flags. When someone tips backward into the raft after a big wave, or gets bounced into the river, the boat erupts into the kind of laughter that only happens among great camp friends. By the time they hit the Nantahala Falls— the trip’s big, churning finale— everyone is soaked through, and today, happily chilled in the warm sunshine.

Meanwhile, back at camp, the Middlers and Juniors gravitated toward our own swimming lake, which draws its water from Dunns Creek. The shady waterfalls of the creek never really warm up no matter how hot the air gets above it. During the two free swim periods today, before lunch and again before dinner, girls filled the water with kayaks and canoes, a few Corcls spinning in slow circles, and the kind of inflatable tube that seems to exist purely for the relaxing joy of floating. Others lined up for tricks off the diving board— cannonballs, spins, and the occasional attempt at a real dive. The waterslide ran more or less non-stop, girls scrambling back up the ladder and racing back around for another slide. The lake is the place to be on a day like this!

There’s something almost essential about cold water at camp, as if it was built into the place on purpose. On a hot day, jumping in the lake provides a full-body kind of relief, the sort you dream of when getting back from a rock climb on Castle Rock or from a riding lesson down at the barn. We might even say the mountains have installed a kind of natural air conditioner as the water from Stick Biscuit Falls and Rockbrook Falls streams through camp. Take a seat near the creek and enjoy a cool breeze flowing by. Put your feet in the creek and you’ve got just what you need on a summer day. Do it with a good friend, and there’s nothing else to ask for.

By the way, if you’re curious about the weather at Rockbrook, our weather station at camp— KNCBREVA27 on Weather Underground— keeps a running record of the temperature, humidity and everything else.

None of this is something we engineered. The mountains simply gave us cold water, and all we had to do was let the girls loose in it. Watching them come up from a dive gasping and grinning, or climb back into a raft still laughing about who fell in, proves that the mountains had this figured out long before we did.

When the cars slowly came up the gravel driveway, windows down, the first thing you saw when you crested the Rockbrook hill was a mob of counselors who seemed to have completely lost their minds. They were jumping. They were waving both arms over their heads. They were clapping and whooping and calling out names. They were hauling trunks, stacking sleeping bags, and smiling wide-eyed in every direction. To a camper leaning out of the window after a long ride, it must have looked like the whole hillside was alive with enthusiasm and energy. Opening day at Rockbrook is a day of cheering, almost from the first minute to the last.

There’s something surprising here. You might think the excitement on opening day belongs to the campers. After all, they’re the ones arriving at the place they’ve been dreaming about for months. But the counselors up on that hill had been doing their own kind of dreaming. They’d made wood-chip name tags by hand. They’d sat with the directors learning who was coming, the shy ones, the dramatic ones, and the girls who might need a little something extra. They’d gone over health notes with the nurses. They’d studied the photos in each camper’s profile, learning names and faces. So by the time the cars started rolling in, the scene on that hill had been building for days. Finally, their anticipation and enthusiasm had somewhere to go. Watching it unfold, you’d be hard-pressed to say who was more excited, the girls arriving or the counselors who’d been waiting for them.

And once it started, the cheering kept on coming. It followed the day from one corner of camp to the next. At the assembly on the hill, each age group sang and clapped along to its line song. Down at the lake, where campers took turns swimming out and treading water for the “swim demos,” every leap off the dock got its own roar from the crowd on the shore. Later in the gym, the activity skits were basically cheering with costumes, whether a climbing demo, a weaving transformation, or a Wild West dance battle with hobby horses. As each activity presented its skit, it was one blast of cheering after another. Yay archery! Yay hiking! And so on. Even our dinner of po-boy sandwiches and cool watermelon ended up woven with cheers, peppered by songs with hand motions like “Yogi Bear,” and driven by calls from table to table. The sound of people being glad about each other, a kind of mutual excitement, marked each moment of the day.

Encountering this much cheering is odd compared to ordinary life outside of camp, but it’s something that makes me smile. It probably made you smile too. If all that jumping and shouting seemed like a bit much, it really wasn’t. It was our way of saying “welcome,” our way of letting you know, “we’re glad you’re here.” This is going to be fun. Let’s get started!

When “Beauty and a Beat” came on, the whole floor went up at once. At the top of the dining hall, the checkerboard panel still hung in shreds where Edie had just burst through it to win the race, and below it the room was a sea of people on their feet— campers, counselors, the youngest Juniors who’d been a little wide-eyed an hour before, every last one of them dancing with glorious abandon. Everyone jumping, spinning, waving, no matter what their moves. This was a Rockbrook banquet.

A blow-out party, what we call a “banquet,” has been the grand finale of Rockbrook sessions for longer than most of us have been alive. The whole thing is dreamed up and built by our CA campers, the ninth graders, who pick a secret theme early in the session and then spend weeks quietly scheming — painting panels, plotting skits, choreographing dances, talking the kitchen into special food. The rest of camp knows only that it’s coming. The dining hall windows go dark behind hung sheets for a full day while the CAs work, and the not-knowing is half the fun.

Racing Through Rockbrook

When the bell rings signaling its start and the doors finally open, you don’t so much walk in as emerge into something. The CAs and their counselors form a tunnel in costume, streamers of pink and purple and white overhead, and you come out the other side into a place that was an ordinary dining hall this morning and now is something fantastic. For this banquet it was a racetrack, and they called it, “Racing Through Rockbrook.” Painted panels turned the walls into packed stadiums and roaring crowds, race cars, trophies, and a few sponsor banners like ExxonMobil, Red Bull, and Wonder Bread. Every table was scattered with checkered flags, little cars, souvenir cups, a custom banquet sticker, glow sticks, and racing tattoos waiting to be slapped onto an arm.

The main event lined up six drivers: Mario in full costume with his kart, Athena in a toga riding a hobby horse, Race Car Barbie in head-to-toe pink, Lily as Lightning McQueen, Elena in an F1 jumpsuit, and Edie, the Rockbrook driver, in a red jumpsuit. Greta announced the whole thing in a sport coat, tie, and an elaborate mustache, while Winslow, playing a bald-capped Mr. Clean, advertised Magic Erasers. There were dances for the sponsors, the drivers, and the pit crew of counselors. For the grand finish, Edie tore through that checkerboard panel, taking first place and winning the Redbird Cup.

The food matched the night with classic favorites: chicken tenders, mozzarella sticks, tater tots, and fresh Rockbrookies, the kind of party spread that goes perfectly with skits and dancing. The music was pure pop— Natasha Bedingfield’s “Unwritten” and the rest— bright and loud and impossible for these girls to sit through.

My Favorite Part

Everyone loved the theme, wild, colorful and unique. My favorite part of every banquet is what happens when a roomful of really good friends celebrate like this together. After this much shared experience, and after growing this close, it’s an event that pulls everyone in. Nobody waits around to be cool first. Nobody needs an introduction or even a warm up. It’s a blast from the very first moment. Instant fun, for everyone— the shy ones, the show-offs, the grown-ups too— all of us completely immersed, smiling and happy. The CAs helped build that feeling for us tonight. “It’ll be a hard act to follow,” people said afterward, and they’re right. More than that though, this was a roomful of girls who already love each other, dancing like nothing matters more than being together right here and now. Banquet themes change every summer, and so do the costumes and the music. But that feeling never does.

Looking around this Wednesday afternoon, you would have had a hard time understanding what was happening. A cabin of Juniors in their finest Granny outfits was hosting a tea party, complete with bingo. Down by the barn, another Junior cabin had gone looking for fairies, with a stop at the fairy salon along the way. Past the lake you’d find mermaids getting their hair styled, pirates racing corcls and hunting tadpoles, and a cabin of grannies chasing escaped chickens. It was, in other words, a normal Cabin Day.

We’ve written about this Wednesday tradition plenty of times before, the way the camp sets aside its regular schedule for an afternoon, the bonding that happens when a whole cabin sticks together, and the surprises the counselors dream up and keep secret until the last minute. During the week the girls scatter to their own activities, following their own interests, but on Cabin Day they come back together and do one thing as a cabin group. What that one thing turns out to be is a fun surprise, and a nice change of pace during the week.

Juniors in Make-Believe

Among the Juniors, the themes ran toward make-believe. One cabin switched to full Granny mode— dressing up, sipping tea, and settling in for a round of “Granny Bingo” on the dining hall porch. Another went on a fairy scavenger hunt and built tiny fairy houses in the forest. Two Junior cabins loaded up and headed to the Further Up Farm to pick flowers and meet a few chickens, with a stop at Dolly’s capping the outing.

Middlers in Motion

The Middlers scattered in every direction at once. One cabin made a day at the beach right here in the mountains, with beach games and an octopus sprinkler and picture frames decorated in shells and pearl beads. Another spent the afternoon as mermaids at the lake. There were pirates decorating eye patches between corcl races, a party in the Middler Lodge with felt sleep masks and freshly painted nails, a hike up to Castle Rock that ended with a snack of Puppy Chow, and a tetherball tournament that started with a quick swim.

A Senior Sorting

The Senior Line went bigger, turning the whole afternoon into a camp-wide game of Harry Potter. Dumbledore and the Sorting Hat divided the seniors into Rockbrook houses— White Squirrel, Chocolate Chip, Owala, Tetris Tots, and the Cardinals— and sent them off on a counselor hunt. The houses searched and received a nice reward of Coke floats and an hour of lake-side fun.

Sliding Rock After Dinner

After dinner, we gathered all the Middler cabins together and took them to Sliding Rock. There’s nothing quite like the shriek of girls hitting that cold mountain water at the bottom of the slide, and then climbing right back up to do it again. We followed our sliding, naturally, with a stop at Dolly’s, everyone’s favorite spot for a sweet treat. It’s a classic camp combination: busloads of damp, happy Middlers working through their heaping cones of ice cream, chatting and eventually singing with more force than seems possible.

It might seem random and scattered all over camp… a tea party and tadpoles, grannies and Puppy Chow, an octopus sprinkler and a sorting hat, numerous chickens and plenty of rushing cold water. But Cabin Day is joyfully creative, the kind of silly Wednesday we love at Rockbrook.

There’s a particular pleasure in a Sunday morning at Rockbrook, and it begins with the wake-up bell ringing a little later than usual. After a week this full of action— all the swimming, tennis, horseback riding, climbing and so forth— a slow start feels great. The girls drifted into breakfast still wearing their pajamas, another long Rockbrook tradition, and a nice nod to taking things easy once in a while. For breakfast, we added fresh Krispy Kreme donuts, also a regular Sunday morning treat at camp. PJs and donuts, a double treat. Afterwards, back at the cabins, everyone changed into their red and white uniforms for two more Sunday morning Rockbrook traditions, flag raising and Chapel.

Our Hi-Up campers, the seasoned tenth graders, serve as the color guard, and they led us in a flag raising ceremony, as the whole camp gathered in a wide circle around them. They raised the American flag and our own Rockbrook flag. We recited the Pledge of Allegiance and sang “In the Heart of a Wooded Mountain” together in the bright morning sun, all of us in red and white against the green grass. Then, quietly, in a single line, we made our way down into the woods to the amphitheater for Chapel.

Chapel on Being Yourself

“Chapel” at Rockbrook isn’t a religious service. It’s a weekly gathering where we slow down and reflect together on a shared idea or value. Over the years it’s grown into an acronym we’re fond of— a Celebration of Happiness, Adventure, Peace, Earth, and Love.

This week the theme was “Be Yourself.” The focal point was Sarah reading aloud from Daniel Pinkwater’s 1977 classic, The Big Orange Splot. It’s the story of a man whose plain house, identical to every other house on the street, gets splashed one day by a runaway can of orange paint, and who then decides, rather than cover it up, to paint it with even more colors, bringing his dreams to life. Initially, his neat-loving neighbors disapprove of his individuality, but one by one they paint their houses too, until the whole street is fantastically different. The girls seemed to really understand how being yourself, despite your differences, can take some courage, but leads to greater happiness. It turns out camp is a wonderful place to see that in action. An odd burst of rain forced us to relocate to the Lakeview Lodge, but that made songs like “Free to Be You and Me” and a few others sound even better.

Two Kinds of Jersey

After rest hour, it was time for an all-camp event: Jersey Day. The girls knew to pack a jersey, and the Landsports field filled up with bright team colors and numbers— a friendly festival of basketball, soccer, and football players in jerseys, foam fingers waving, temporary tattoos and face painting.

Of course we had music bumping, and a few decorations like a yellow giraffe sprinkler, helping the whole thing take on the loud, happy, slightly chaotic energy of a real game day. There was a sub-relay where you stepped through hoops and zigzagged the cones, a station for churning “Jersey-cow butter,” a giant Connect 4 game, a massive nine square in the air game, disc golf, a water balloon toss, and a whole row of inflatable targets for tossing a football or frisbee, kicking a soccer ball, or sinking a basket. Plenty of nachos to keep everyone going. The baseball toss turned out to be the afternoon’s great humbling— ball after ball sailed wide of the hole, and by the end only three girls, Scotty, Dylan, and Effie, could claim they’d actually made one. The rest of us just cheered louder.

And then there were our meals today, a showcase of Rick’s idea of “Jersey Day”. While the girls thought “team jerseys,” Rick thought New Jersey, and he turned the whole menu into a love letter to the Garden State. Lunch was the famous “fat sandwich” born at Rutgers— chicken fingers, mozzarella sticks, and french fries all tucked into one sub roll with honey mustard— alongside giant bowls of blueberries. Dinner took us to the Jersey shore: a fried fish sandwich with homemade tartar sauce, coleslaw, and hush puppies. And for dessert, of course, saltwater taffy, which New Jersey gave the world. Another Jersey to celebrate.

We capped this busy day with a showing of Zootopia 2 in the gym, a recent animated film that, among other things, shows how differences can be worked through with a little communication and empathy. With sleeping bags and crazy creek chairs spread across the floor, the girls settled in to sing and clap along to its songs, happily ready to relax from the day.

A day of jerseys— and proof again that being a little different can be part of what brings us together, and makes the day more fun.

One of the quietest campers caught my attention last night. She’s a girl who tends to hang back a bit, who thinks about things before jumping right in. And yet there she was at our twilight event, a can of shaving cream in her fist, zooming across the landsports field and cackling as she fired her foam. A little later I saw her grinning as she sculpted a mohawk into her friend’s hair. Something about the whole ridiculous scene had swept her up completely. This was more than ordinary fun. This was exuberant fun, contagious, high-voltage joy spilling out everywhere.

If you’ve never seen one, the setup for a shaving cream fight is super simple. We ring the bell, the girls come pouring down to the landsports field in their swimsuits, and we hand out about a hundred and fifty cans of plain white foam. The music starts pumping. And then, with no instruction whatsoever, everyone knows exactly what to do. Spray it, smear it, plop a full handful right on top of someone’s head. Chase and be chased. Within five minutes there’s foam in everyone’s hair, on every back and shoulder, and the whole field is one big tangle of slippery, shrieking, laughing girls. It is loud, it is messy, and it is about as happy as a group of children can possibly be.

What makes a shaving cream fight so wonderful, though, is that it’s exuberance aimed outward. It’s not so much about covering yourself as it is about covering someone else. You sneak up behind a friend with a fat handful of foam, plant it squarely on her back, and tear off grinning, already bracing for the same in return. You spray, and get sprayed, and both halves are a delight. This is why a shaving cream fight requires other people. It requires pursuit and ambush, shrieks and retaliation, mischief mixed with generosity.

And when the whole group throws itself in at once, something special happens. The exuberance multiplies. Each girl’s silliness gives the next one a little more nerve, and the energy loops around the field, pulling in even the campers who arrived unsure. Nobody is keeping score, nobody is performing, nobody is left out. They are simply, completely, joyfully together. As a parent, this is exactly the kind of fun you hope your child gets to have— unguarded, generous, and shared with good friends.

It’s amazing what these girls can do together— even the quietest ones. All it took was one foamy evening at Rockbrook.

It’s hard to think of something more exciting than the opening day of camp. Something everyone has been anticipating and planning for and dreaming about. This is true for everyone involved. The year-round team of directors have been working toward this day for months. The staff members have just finished more than a week of orientation and training. Of course, the campers are the most excited because this is their chance to finally enjoy camp life like they’ve imagined it. Whether arriving for the first time at Rockbrook or, as is true for some of the older campers, for their sixth or seventh year, this is a great day filled with cheers, smiles, hugs, a few butterflies, and the delight of anticipating something really fun.

If you were here, this excitement was obvious. From the mob of fired-up counselors jumping and cheering on the hill, to the jittery campers smiling and waving as they drove in, arriving at camp today was a celebration. Fresh name tags were hung, trunks and other luggage moved into cabins, and cabin groups came together for the first time. Overall, despite a little glitch here and there, the whole check-in process unfolded smoothly. With this many people involved, camp life can sometimes be an exercise in patience. Thank you for yours today.

Our assembly under the hill on the grass beneath the big walnut tree was a fun introduction to camp. The campers sat together in cabin groups and enjoyed the view of the mountains in the distance as Sarah introduced the line heads, some of the other directors, and described a few safety reminders to everyone. Lunch was Rick’s masterful Mac and Cheese, salad, and sweet, ripe watermelon. This has become a traditional first meal at camp for us, and it’s always a big hit.

Down to the Lake

Right after lunch, it was time for the middlers and seniors to head to the lake. With Sarah, the other directors and all of the lifeguards organizing, the campers took turns demonstrating their swimming ability. We ask them to swim out a ways, back using a backstroke, and to tread water for a minute. Doing all that confidently earns a blue wrist band and tag, and qualifies you to swim anywhere in the lake (the deep areas). Other levels have different colored tags and bands, and are more restricted to particular areas of the lake (more shallow areas), but everyone who wants to cool off at the lake can do so.

Rockbrook’s stream-fed lake is famously “refreshing,” so most everyone was happy to jump in to cool off on this warm afternoon. These “swim demos” are a true community event with other campers and staff members cheering as each person leaps from the dock into the water. The mood is upbeat, encouraging and celebratory. The Juniors will have their swim demos tomorrow.

While different groups were swimming at the lake, others were touring the camp, learning the locations of different activities. If new to Rockbrook, there are creeks to find, hidden cabins in the woods, and important hubs of activity. The Alpine tower, for example, is in the forest behind the gym, and the camp store is partway along the path down to Horseback Riding Center. Woodworking meets in the same building as the Lower Pottery studio, and Yoga sessions are held in the newly renovated hillside lodge. Rockbrook is not particularly spread out, but there are a lot of activity locations to learn.

Activity Skits

We rounded out the afternoon by gathering in the gym for activity skits. Using costumes and songs, these skits are silly presentations aiming to entice campers to try the different activities. We saw a climbing demonstration, a Bob Ross themed painting and drawing skit, a magical transformation of t-shirts into tie-dyes, a wild west dance battle, and a Mulan-themed riflery contest, just to name a few. The skits did a great job conveying the spirit of exploration and fun for everyone no matter their experience or skill level.

One of the best things about arriving at camp is meeting all the people, all of the enthusiastic, kind people each camper sees and talks to each day. Cabin mates, counselors, activity instructors, the camp moms, directors, nurses, kitchen and maintenance crews— this whole community coming together on the same day to introduce ourselves and begin enjoying each other’s company. It’s a marvelous moment. Everyone’s here, and we’re ready to roll!