And this summer, while Pepe and Q lead the way, and Waboos is mobbed by the campers and parents and alumni who descend upon his cottage, I’ll slip away to take my own self-guided tour. They say time travel might never be possible, but I do it with each lap around Keewaydin, and each picture I see—the campers running around on the ball fields and in the lake, the staffmen milling about, overseeing the younger ones and enjoying their summer in such a special place. The sounds I hear, the smells I smell, the spots to stand to catch the perfect breeze on a steamy Vermont summer day—all the same as when I roamed here as a ten-year-old camper, a twenty-year-old staffman, a forty-year-old parent. In a world swept up in constant change and ever-fluctuating trends, obsessed with the moment and little else, Keewaydin is a treasured exception of stability. It hasn’t changed. I fantasize that Pepe and Q a decade from now will be the staffmen at Keewaydin to my yet unborn grandchildren, and Waboos . . . Waboos will be a centenarian, somehow still meandering around the campus, “Hi, Mike,” he’ll say. “How’s the family? How’s John Angelo? Still playing tennis against him?”
Last summer, after spending a few days on Lake Dunmore, I felt an obligation to explore the Jamestown of camping. I decided to drag the kidnappable John Angelo, his wife, Judy, and Jane up to northern Ontario and Lake Temagami, five hundred miles northwest of Lake Dunmore, the site of the original Camp Keewaydin, the place where it all began, taking the same trip that Commodore Clark made over a century ago (albeit by plane, car, and motorboat, not canoe). It’s an incredible place, with a pureness and freshness to it you won’t soon forget. There are no cell phones up here to call Burbank in order to hear the latest drama on and off the stages, and no electricity, either. And much of Temagami is reminiscent of Dunmore—the traditions, the Algonquin words, even the smell of camp linens—two brothers separated at birth, now reunited. Temagami is exclusively a tripping camp—you don’t need your baseball mitt, a basketball, or a tennis racket up there. Just a canoe.
At both my Keewaydin, on Lake Dunmore, and this Keewaydin, on Lake Temagami, it’s about teamwork and friendships; the loyalty of your bunkmates; the protection and security provided by your staffmen; and the alternative universe of the outback wilderness. And as the four of us walk on a path on this secluded island in Canada, I realize that both camps are epitomized by one thing: the canoe. The canoe is another member of the cast at camp, just like the staffman you never forget, the boy in your bow, or Waboos. The canoe is the extension of your body in the watered wilderness. Moving you forward, it is your life preserver, and never sinks, carrying your food and your shelter. On a canoe trip a boy learns the value of the right equipment, the proper protection from the elements, the need for safety. Like memories of camp in the winter months, before a trip begins, your canoe just sits there, back on the lake, lying dormant. But when your trip starts, you reunite with your friend, your partner.
Fifty years ago, I’m on Raquette Lake in the Adirondack Mountains, five canoes moving through headwinds that just picked up, an unexpected storm—driving rain . . . whitecaps and a canoe fully loaded for the first day of the trip. I’m twelve years old and I’m in the stern, hardly able to communicate with my bowman and unable to see the other canoes. Finally a staffman’s canoe comes into view and instructs us to head to shore immediately. Four canoes make it safely but mine does not. A massive wave hits us almost simultaneously with the loudest thunder strike I have ever heard. The wanagans quickly sink to the bottom. There goes the silver cake mix. My duffel bag floats. A tarp disappears. But my bowman and I hold on to the canoe, our support and our protection. There is no fear—well, maybe just a little—but we know what to do. We have been taught. Never leave the canoe. Go underneath if need be. Find the air pocket. Get on one side and paddle with your legs to shore.
And that day, we did, and we got to shore, which seemed like hundreds of yards away but was maybe only fifty. We lost some food. The staffmen went and got our duffels, and although we were wet and cold and shaken, we were feted and honored that night like heroes and dried and given soup and attention and a story to tell for the rest of our lives.
Today, no matter how daunting the task in front of me, I think of that canoe, that trip, that experience, that early education. I believe Pepe and Q will do the same. Today, no matter what’s in front of me, I think of Waboos and I think of camp.
Glossary Of Keewaydin Terms
Annwi (n): Wigwam for youngest campers (ages eight to nine).
Brown’s Bay (n): Area of camp for staff and their families to live (next to Wiantinaug ball field).
Bug House (n): Building in lagoon area that houses nature artifacts and materials.
Bumwad (n): Toilet paper.
Carnival (n): An event at which campers make their own booths to celebrate the coming of midseason.
Corral (n): The relaxing area outside the dining hall on the edge of Waramaug ball field.
Coup (n): Earned by completing a certain level of achievement in one area of activity.
Dispensary (n): Nurse’s office; sick house.
Elephant Bumwad (n): Paper towel.
Formation (n): Daily saluting of the flag, typically done in the morning.
Fort (n): Bathroom.
Four Winds Ceremony (n): At the beginning of the summer, a ceremony where the four winds gather at a campfire with the whole camp.
Friday Frolic (n): Weekly show featuring skits performed by campers; takes place on Friday nights.
Garboon (n): Garbage can.
Glick (n): Lunchtime drink; comes in four flavors.
Gong (n): Circular length of old railroad track that is rung to call people to meals.
Guzzle (n): End-of-trip treat; frequently done at McDonald’s or A&W.
Hare House (n): Small cabin home to camp archives and Waboos’s office.
Indian Circle (n): Gathering within each wigwam each morning and afternoon, in which activities are chosen for the day; where campfires are held.
Inspection (n): Daily checking of tent/cabin cleanliness.
Inwigo (n): Ladies’ bathroom.
Kicker (n): Camp newspaper read aloud at Sunday-night campfire.
Moosalamoo (n): Wigwam for oldest campers (ages fourteen and fifteen); also name of the mountain overlooking camp.
Multihouse (n): Camp theater.
Old-Timer (n): Title given to those who have been at Keewaydin for four or more years.
Papoosiwog (n): Name for those in their fourth year at camp.
Portage (n, v): The carrying of canoes and equipment from one body of water to another on a canoe trip; the act of carrying the canoes.
Songadeewin (n): Literally meaning strong of heart, name of girls camp.
Staff Brat (n): Child of staff who is too young to be a camper.
Sunday Circle (n): Camp gathering on Sundays where people share thoughts and musical talents.
Sunset Arena (n): Boxing and wrestling ring beyond Waramaug ball field along Keewaydin Road.
Temagami (n): The original Keewaydin camp in Canada, recently reconnected to Dunmore through the Keewaydin Foundation.
Wallop (v): To wash dishes, etc., on trips.
Wanagan (n): A large box in which trip supplies are carried.
Waramaug (n): Wigwam for ten- and eleven-year-old campers.
Wet Loaders (n): Old sneakers used for canoeing.
Wiantinaug (n): Wigwam for twelve- and thirteen-year-old campers.
Wigwam (n): Unit of campers, organized by age.
About The Author
Michael D. Eisner has worked in the entertainment industry for over forty years, the last twenty-one as chief executive officer of The Walt Disney Company. Before that, he was a camper and staffman at Camp Keewaydin in Salisbury, Vermont, for nine summers. He and his wife, Jane, live in Los Angeles. Their three sons, all former Keewaydin campers themselves, live nearby. All of his proceeds from this book have been donated to The Eisner Foundation, which is providing scholarships to send underserved children to the
camp.
The author with present-day Keewaydin campers Q Spratley (left) and Pepe Molina (right).
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