[Note: I rewrote parts of this narrative in a more poetic style, with some additional quotes and inner thoughts, for my Cometfire website, in a story titled Long Summer Lake. You might like to compare the two.]

Even aside from grab-the-weenie, wilderness camping was fun. It was the only night during camp that I slept outside, for example. That was a cool twist.

Earlier, before dinner, a bunch of us - me, Joe, Tony, Phil, and Brian of all people (Brian was really okay when you got him off the Bible) decided to ask if we could sleep on the beach in our sleeping bags that night, just for the hell of it. The counselors said okay. We were joined by Frank, and some kids from the other cabin (four, I think - not sure - they were down on the other end of our row of sleeping bags).

We stretched out on the sand, and talked, and looked up at the stars. The stars have always confused me. We'd had a stargazing talk at Y-camp a few nights earlier, and I'd been going out at night with my next-door neighbor Bill for months - supposedly looking at the heavens, but in actuality just talking about stuff. Even with all that, I had no clue about which stars or constellations I was looking at. I never seem to remember, except the obvious ones like the Big Dipper. I fell asleep looking up at the endless sky, and woke up the next morning with my upturned face all wet with dew.

I recall being bored on the wilderness trip a few times - I missed the constant activity schedule at Y-camp, and playing soccer. But all in all, it was a nice way to end camp.

We headed back the next afternoon, not long after lunch and rest period. It was a slower trip - we were all tired. That was the only day at Y-camp that I got sunburnt, because we'd spent the whole morning without our shirts on, and the trip back was close to two hours on the water with no shade. I was wearing a tank top and shorts when we set out, but after a while my shirt got too hot and I took it off. I didn't realize I was getting a burn until we were getting close to camp and Hal told us to put our shirts back on (which seems kind of silly... it's not like camp was formal or anything.) As soon as the shirt slid over my shoulders, I realized. It was a mild burn. I've never been prone to bad sunburns, luckily.

After we docked, put the camp stuff away, and hauled our own stuff back to the cabin, most kids were worn out and took naps. I was tired and lay down, too, but to no avail. Sleep during the day always came hard for me anyway, and my sunburn removed all question. So I went outside and talked to some kids from the other cabins who had come back a little earlier.

The rest of that day was low-key. We didn't go skinny-dipping, since we got back after our shift. Instructional swimming that day was really just recreational swimming, because we'd already done our time trials the day before we left for wilderness camp. I posted a very respectable time in the 100 freestyle, always my best stroke, so I was happy with how swimming at camp wound up.

The next morning, Family Day, we didn't have sports or activities; instead we had camp clean-up, to get ready for the families. I got assigned to clean a latrine. I guess someone had to do it... My job wasn't as bad as some kids. I had to mop the concrete floors; some kids got stuck with scrubbing the seats and fixtures. Assignments were all made by random draws, so I couldn't complain that somebody had it in for me. But still... And to make it worse, Rob and J.J. got assigned just about the cushiest job of the whole camp: repainting the wall of the boathouse. I didn't begrudge J.J., but Rob... sheesh! Oh, well - all the painters got hot and took their shirts off, and I was still sunburnt, so it's just as well it wasn't me.

We all finished up, then went back to pack up our stuff. I had somehow lost my pair of flip-flops. Y-camp and flip-flops and Danny just do not go together. I lost another pair when I went back, two years later! I had also lost the belt I used to tie my sleeping bag. I think that got left behind at wilderness camp - so somewhere, there's a belt with my name on it, out in the woods on a remote beach, maybe even to this day...

We finished packing with a little time to spare, so Tony and Joe and Phil and I went down to the dock for a last look. We sat on the dock with our feet hanging above the water, and talked about stuff. I don't even remember what - fishing, for one thing, but other stuff, too... I had a touch of the last-day blues. It's extremely rare for me to feel down. But I knew I wouldn't see my new friends, ever again most likely.

I expect they felt it too; but nobody spoke about it. I mean, how do you tell another boy you're going to miss him? We had our wrestling matches and our teasing and our boy-chaos. But none of that is talked about, when you're 9 or 10 or 11. And goodbyes don't happen. We always wish they had, later. But sometimes, the door closes, and only afterwards you realize there's no doorknob. Just a mirror.

The bell rang, and that signaled time for the final assembly. We went up the path, still talking. I stayed with Phil when we got to assembly, and Tony and Joe sat in front of us. The director told us what a great group we were, hope we had fun, be sure to come back next year (and bring our friends and relatives), etc. I don't remember much of what he said, because I was busy doing stuff like pulling the back of Tony's shorts down (he was sitting on the bench directly in front of me). He tried to kick me from under the bench, but his legs wouldn't reach.

Joe was sitting to Tony's left. I did the same thing to him, once. He didn't try to kick me. He just grabbed my hand. And held it about a quarter-second longer than he had to, before he threw it back at me without looking. Or maybe I imagined that. Maybe I wanted to. I didn't know. I didn't do it again.

Turnabout is fair play: Frank was sitting directly behind me, and apparently after watching me, he decided to pull my shorts down in the back. (I didn't even realize he was back there, until he grabbed my shorts and underwear elastic, and I had to look back to see who was exposing my butt crack.) Some counselor back there put a stop to the whole thing, soon after.

The mood at assembly was weird. Some kids had the last-day blues, and other had the last-day hurrays. I think most of us were ambivalent - we missed home, but we'd miss camp when we left.

Right after assembly (or possibly before, even) the families started arriving. My mom had arranged at the last minute for me to ride back with Phil, because she couldn't come; and in all honesty, that was okay - I loved my mom, but it would be more fun to ride back with Phil. So when assembly was over, we went over to the parking lot to see if his folks had arrived. They had.

Tony and Joe got separated from Phil and me as soon as assembly was over. I guess that was "goodbye". I never saw either of them again.

Phil's dad came down to the cabin with us and helped us haul our stuff back to the car. I think we were the earliest kids to move out of the cabin - I don't remember anybody else's stuff being gone. Nobody else was there. I felt a touch of sadness again. None of these little spells of the blues lasted more than a few minutes. They were summer clouds, passing across the face of the sun, shadows racing across the lake-surface, revealing depths, then moving on and letting the warmth return.

Phil's family couldn't stay for the Family Day activities; we were just going to have a picnic and then leave. So we stopped by the mess-hall for checkout. Nobody I knew in there - maybe 4-5 other campers and their families.

Phil's parents had a nice picnic for us and his little sister, who had come up too. I don't remember seeing anyone else I knew from camp among the families there, except good old Brian, who was sitting near us with (I assume) his parents. We got up to leave, and I waved, and he waved. Then... we went out to the parking lot, and we got in Phil's parents' station-wagon... and we left. It was over.