Mainly because I was terrified of hiking, recreational water sports, and ropes courses. Why did I go then? Because I was semi-forced to by my parents. Growing up, I never knew exactly where the camp was located but I do remember getting dropped off at Stonestown Shopping Mall in San Francisco to hop on a Greyhound type bus with 80 other kids. The camp is actually right next to Lake Tahoe but it used to feel like an entire continent away as a kid.
But I loved Mountain Camp II (the first one burned down) and think about my camp days fondly. Funny that now with the world of Facebook I get to see pictures of some of my favorite childhood places. I laughed as I looked through them mainly because I almost died getting stuck under a sail boat, I peed in my pants in the middle of a campfire performance from laughing so hard, I slept in a teepee next to my trunk filled with clothes (notice, I did not say duffle bag or suitcase, I said trunk), I avoided the coed truth or dare game during our overnight hiking trip, and every summer I went home with a bladder infection from avoiding the public bathrooms.
Here’s an example of a typical cabin:
All in all, it was a lot of constantly washing dirt off my body and griping about wanting to hang out with the counselors when they “went into town” (which I now realize was their only break from us) but I did make life long friends. Plus, I learned extremely important survival skills like how to braid friendship bracelets, shoot a rifle, and play the guitar. For that, I thank you Mountain Camp II.