Summer Camp by Ricky

I went to a Boy Scout summer camp only six-times: twice as a camper, once as a staff member, and thrice as a substitute adult leader.

The first three times were all at Camp Winton along the Bear River Reservoir near Jackson, California. Two of the last three were at Camp Sol-Meyer (near the Fort McKavett Historical Site) and the last at Camp Fawcett (on the Nueces River near Barksdale), both camps in Texas.

I was 15 the first time I went to camp. Our Scoutmaster, Bob Deyerberg, was there the whole week and two other adults took half a week each to be with us. We worked on rank advancement, crafts, swimming, canoeing, relaxing, and enjoying a week away from home with many friends at once. It was like an extended weekend campout. I bought a moccasin kit and assembled it before I went home.

The next year I was 16 when we went. One weekend before the camp opened, myself, our Scoutmaster, and three other members of our troop were there for a three-day work detail to prepare the camp for opening. The we were there because at the previous Spring Camporee, we had all been “tapped out” (pushed violently from behind) from a council-fire circle to be inducted into the Order of the Arrow (a BSA honor society). The induction ceremony is held at the summer camp pre-opening work detail weekend. It was called The Ordeal. And so and ordeal it was. But also mostly fun.

When our week to arrive at camp that year was upon us, none of our adult dads could stay at camp with us, so a rather new to our troop 19-year old assistant Scoutmaster stayed with us. We enjoyed the same activities as the previous year except it was not quite as fun when back at our campsite due to the assistant Scoutmaster. He was rude and obnoxious and most of us were afraid of him because he carried a large knife of the Jim Bowie style but not as large. Unfortunately, he liked to brandish it and would poke our backsides with the point, if we were not watching. When our Scoutmaster and other fathers came to get us, myself and the boys in the car I was riding in all complained about him and at the next troop meeting the other adults told him that he must leave the troop. He was disappointed but we all were relieved.

I did not go to camp when I was 17 because the dates conflicted with my father’s 30-days in the summer visitation rights. My Scoutmaster did mail me a postcard from camp, which came in the mail while I was gone. I always thought it was a very nice thing to do. He really liked me.

At age 18, I was on the staff of the camp. I worked in the commissary section making sure each troop received and turned in all issued cooking gear. I also ensured that each troop received the correct amount of food for cooking breakfast, lunch, and dinner, if it was not their turn to eat in the dining hall. I also taught the motor boating merit badge.

The staff members designed and made a large wall plaque on which to record our names to hang on the lodge wall as long as the building lasted. It was my idea to spell “staff” as “staph” and all the other guys agreed it would be funny. So we did.

Staph of  '66 Plaque

As you look at the photo of the plaque, you will notice on the left side a circle with what looks like two “X’s”. That is the symbol or logo brand of the Winton Brothers logging company which donated the land for the camp to the Boy Scouts of America. The “X’s” are not “X’s” but to “W’s” back-to-back representing the two Winton brothers. Because I was teaching the Motor Boating merit badge and because the current TV show, Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea, featured an Admiral Nelson, I printed my name around the circle as “Admiral Nelson”. I also wrote it normally somewhere else on the plaque, but I don’t remember exactly where.

While undergoing training with the Air Force at San Angelo AFB, Texas in 1968, I volunteered to be a temporary adult leader for the base troop and two other Texas troops because no troop adults could get off work for a week to stay with the boys. The first time I was still 19 and the last two times I had turned 20. The second event was the time I was seduced by the 16-year old senior patrol leader. All in all, those week-long camps were enjoyable because it got me out of three-weeks of “base details” while waiting for phase two training to begin or transfer orders following my being molested by the base psychiatrist which I wrote and posted on my blog under the title of Visits with the Doctor on Summer Afternoons.

In 2011 I visited BSA Camp Winton again after it closed for the season. Fortunately, there were five people there doing some pre-winter repairs and completing the camp shutdown activities. I was able to enter the lodge and wander the grounds reliving some memories and taking photographs. The camp was essentially the same, but the reservoir was significantly lower from when I was there as a boy.

This topic brought back many pleasant memories.

Hiking Trail to Camp Winton

Camp Winton Lodge/Dining Hall

Camp Winton Dining Hall Interior

Dining Hall Fireplace

© 19 August 2013

About the Author

I was born in June of 1948 in Los Angeles, living first in Lawndale and then in Redondo Beach. Just prior to turning 8 years old in 1956, I began living with my grandparents on their farm in Isanti County, Minnesota for two years during which time my parents divorced.

When united with my mother and stepfather two years later in 1958, I lived first at Emerald Bay and then at South Lake Tahoe, California, graduating from South Tahoe High School in 1966. After three tours of duty with the Air Force, I moved to Denver, Colorado where I lived with my wife and four children until her passing away from complications of breast cancer four days after the 9-11 terrorist attack.

I came out as a gay man in the summer of 2010. I find writing these memories to be therapeutic.

My story blog is, TheTahoeBoy.Blogspot.com.