For the last 10 years, I’ve spent half of my summers at my favorite place, a summer camp in the mountains of North Carolina. I honestly don’t remember much from the first few years, but it must have been fun because I kept on wanting to go back.

Every year, I'd show up to camp with my backpack full and pillow in-hand. I’d run into a cabin full of girls I’d never met before. We’d play cards, tell stories, and we always became friends in no time.

I do remember the more recent years, as a camper in the older programs. They sent us off on different adventures including mountain biking, climbing, hiking, and canoeing. We’d hike, bike, climb, or paddle for a day, set up camp, and continue on with our journey the next morning. I changed into a different person when I was at camp. No rapid was too scary, no mountain was too high of a climb.

I remember one morning our counselor decided to take us on a sunrise hike at a beautiful overlook. She woke us up super early and told us to pack a bag with water, a flashlight, and a jumper (she’s from Australia). Well, I, a twelve year old at the time, had no idea what a jumper was, and I guess I was too tired to figure that out. We took a van to the access point and were on our way. The beautiful hike up led us to an amazing overlook, where we cooked pancakes over a fire. After we got settled I realized I was freezing cold, and I realized that jumper must’ve been a fancy word for sweater. Despite the misunderstanding, that sunrise was the most perfect sunrise I’d ever seen.

This past summer I became a counselor at this same camp. Looking back, I have no idea how or why they let us do what we did as campers. The counselors that lead us on those backpacking, and canoeing trips must have been the age that I am now, which scares me quite a bit. Anyway, I couldn’t imagine my childhood without camp and I’m so excited to go back next year.