Pioneer Camp

From the time I was young I spent two weeks every year at Pioneer Camp in northern Ontario. The camp, on the shores of Lake Clearwater in Muskoka, was where I earned my badges in swimming, canoeing and campcraft, useful skills that I never forgot.  Because I was the child of an Anglican minister the Christian camp gave my parents a break in the cost as long as I went during the last two weeks of August.   By then the heat of the summer had waned and the air as well as the water became pretty chilly, making it the least popular session of the season. I looked forward to those two weeks almost as much as I looked forward to Christmas, which was a lot!

Campers slept in canvas tents, which were on elevated wooden platforms.  I think there were six cots per tent, and each girl had a wooden crate for personal items. We had to take our own sleeping bag, a pillow and blanket, plus a bar of ivory soap. Early each morning the bell would ring, and all the campers  would head down to the lake with their bar of soap for “morning dip”.  The counselors were on hand (often shivering under blankets!) to make sure each girl went in the lake to bathe, and bathe we did.  The water was bitching cold by that time of year, the steam rising off the lake was testament to that!  At least ivory soap floated, which is why it was a mandatory item for each camper.  We ate all meals in the dining hall, basic food that always tasted delicious after mornings and afternoons spent swimming, canoeing and hiking.

I wanted Vanessa and Rachel to experience Pioneer Camp, and once I felt they were old enough I started planning their first trip to Canada without me. It was important to me that the children have exposure to their Canadian “roots”, and sending them to camp was an ideal way for them to assimilate.  I didn’t have to worry about packing ivory for them, soap for quite some time had been banned in all Muskokan lakes and the camp now had showers. The girls would travel to Ontario alone, where they would stay with my parents at the cottage in Muskoka  before heading to camp.  Once September arrived Mac and I would close the Pizzeria and travel to Canada to join them.  I wrote away for the camp registration forms and started to work out the travel logistics for Vanessa and Rachel.

Bequia did not have an airport back then, I would have to take the girls to the mainland for the scheduled flight to Barbados.  I had met a wonderful lady working for LIAT in Barbados, and she promised to meet the ‘plane, take the girls through customs and immigration, then help them claim their luggage. She would then turn them over to the Air Canada personnel to be checked in for the flight to Toronto.  I had to ensure that each girl wore a name tag and that was that, pretty simple if all went smoothly!  I went as far as Arnos Vale Airport with the children, who were extremely excited by the prospect of traveling without me. I hugged and kissed them, watched as their ‘plane took off for Barbados, then cried all the way back to Kingstown.  I already missed them and they had just left!

I have to admit I was pretty uneasy, and although I was informed by my LIAT friend as well as Air Canada that my girls had boarded their plane to Toronto safely I had butterflies in my stomach for the rest of the day.  My parents had assured me that they would meet the Air Canada flight in Toronto, but until they called me the next day every disaster known to aviation danced through my head.

Vanessa and Rachel loved Pioneer Camp, and went every summer for quite a few years.  The camp hadn’t changed too much, the girls earned their red cross swimming badges, learned how to paddle a canoe and how to build a campfire. The campers still slept on cots in tents covered with canvas,  and the food was still basic but delicious.  I guess the only thing my little campers missed out on was the joy of  “morning dip”;  although it was offered it was no longer mandatory, the camp now had the luxury of shower stalls!