My first year of college was such a whirlwind of new experiences that, by the time April 2015 came along, it suddenly hit me that I had absolutely no plans for the summer. I actually went home to Carlow for the weekend, and sat with my mother desperately trying to research something that would get me out of the country for a few months at exceptionally short notice. As you can imagine, there wasn’t much on offer. The thoughts of working in Ibiza turned my stomach and I didn’t want to swelter in the heat of mainland Europe picking vegetables. I thought about maybe giving Zante a go – my friend lives out there and had told me all about the strip in laganas. There’s so much to see and do there. Ultimately, I needed to make some money. I didn’t have enough already in pocket to simply hop on a train around the continent, or book into a seaside resort with some friends. I returned to Carlow the following weekend, a little more hopeful. The idea of a J1 appealed to me but, lo and behold, I didn’t have the funds. Thankfully I found something that interested me, something that was similar to J1 but with a guarantee of employment, and which was also far more affordable. After hours of paperwork, and weeks of waiting for a response, I eventually secured myself a position working at a residential summer camp four hours north of Toronto, Canada.
Trust me when I say that this really was last minute. I got a call at 1am on Monday morning from a camp representative who had forgotten about the time difference. He told me that I had been hired at camp, and I was due to leave on Friday morning. My exact position at camp was yet to be confirmed, but at least I had a spot.
Over the next couple of days I booked two months off work, printed flight itineraries, bought everything I would need, got my visa organised and experienced far more stress than I did excitement. In the hustle and bustle of it all, it slipped my mind to tell the majority of my friends or family that I was leaving, most of whom found out via social media or word of mouth. So by 2pm Canadian time on Friday July 19th, I found myself alone, strolling the diverse streets of Toronto, trying to navigate my way to the Art Gallery of Ontario before camp came to pick me up the next day. I had never felt so happily independent.
All I knew about my role was that I would need my rucksack and camping gear as I was to spend the majority of my summer under canvass and sitting in a canoe. Maybe not the most desirable for others, but I come from a family that is more invested in scouting than is even imaginable. I love camping. Looking into finding the Best Camping Gear and watching survival videos online is what I would call exciting, even if others may not think it. There’s so much you can experience while being amongst nature and it’s not every day you can say that. Camp hired me as a canoe-tripper. Don’t worry, I didn’t know exactly what that was either, until I got to camp.
My experience was quite different than it would be for the majority of international staff hired at North-American camps, in which most of them go over and work as counsellors or activity specialists. If you picture The Parent Trap, my camp was like that. The kids go back year after year, and spend two months with their camp friends in wooden cabins, with no mobile phones, no technology, and plenty of fresh air. Most of the staff live with them, in camp, in their cabins. I arrived at camp, after a long drive from Toronto. At the main office, I pulled open the heavy wooden door. Sitting there were a few of the other trippers, with whom I was going to spend the rest of my summer.
Canoe-tripping is an inherent and important part of Canadian culture, but as a foreigner I had so much to learn
Canoe-tripping is an inherent and important part of Canadian culture, but as a foreigner I had so much to learn. There were a few induction days before the campers arrived. The trippers brought me to their gear shed, named “Snooka”. What “Snooka”’ means is a camp secret. I am sworn to secrecy.
My job was to bring the campers on canoe trips, between two and six nights depending on their age. The day before trip, we would spend our day planning the meals we would cook, packing all the food, and helping the campers to pack their gear. The morning of the trip, we would meet the kids at Snooka. The head trippers paired the rest of us up, and each group took a cabin on trip. We would load the boats, food barrels, tents and the camper’s gear into some camper trailers, and 4 yellow school buses would drive out of camp, each headed for a different destination somewhere in one of Ontario’s national parks.
Each trip we took followed a different route. As I sit here in my room, I look up at a map of Algonquin Park, Ontario pinned to my wall. That’s where I spent the most of my days in Canada. After a four, five, or six hour journey, the bus would leave us at our drop off point somewhere in the park, we’d tell the driver where we want to be picked up in a few days, load the boats, and push off. Following our maps, we would bring the campers along the rivers and lakes, camping somewhere different along our route each night. It was as cliché as it sounds, but don’t get me wrong, this summer was the most difficult, emotional, yet fulfilling I have ever had. The boats we used needed to be heavy and robust, as we were carrying gear and food for an average of 15 people for up to 6 days. They weighed between 90-100lbs. If we got to the end of a lake, or the water was too low to paddle, we would pull over. The kids would get out of the boats, we would throw the gear out too, and the trippers would pull the boats in from the water. We would help the kids put the gear on their backs, we would put on our rucksacks and pick up the canoes, flipping them onto our backs. We would then start walking to the next landing point for us to push off again. Most of the paths we took were maintained by park rangers. This exhausting experience was called portaging. Depending on our route, some of the portages stretched for two or three kilometres. The most portages I did in a day was eight. After the first portage I ever walked, I could not for a moment imagine I was ever going to enjoy this experience. So much responsibility rested on my shoulders, making the 90lb canoe even heavier. I never thought I was going to make it through five more canoe trips.
Finishing my summer at camp is one of the biggest personal achievements I have ever made. All summer, I couldn’t pick my boat up on my own and flip it onto my back, another tripper always had to help me. I have never been as proud of myself as I was after I flipped a boat for the first time. Being on trip isn’t exactly luxury, it’s the hardest thing some people ever do, but finishing it is what makes it so thoroughly amazing.
I went out on a water run on the first day of my first trip. It was overcast and muggy, but out there in the middle of the lake I experienced a silence like never before. It truly was breathtaking.
Over the course of the summer I enjoyed each trip more than the last. I got physically stronger and grew in confidence.
Over the course of the summer I enjoyed each trip more than the last. I got physically stronger and grew in confidence. I began bonding with the kids I took on trip, they had so much admiration for us as trippers and I ended up loving some of them to pieces. I loved cooking for them and looking out for them while we were away. The times during the trips when they would come to you for a chat, or ask you advice, or just tell you they were having fun made it all worthwhile. I saw bears, beavers, moose, water snakes and some really freaky bugs. I got an unbelievable tan which I am proud to say still lingers on my skin. I learned how to navigate the parks,and little Canadian sayings. I feel I grew as a person, and left camp far more aware of who I was. Everything I learnt, saw, experienced, outweighed the physical demands of the job. I spent my summer in the most beautiful, raw and natural setting imaginable. I went skinny dipping at 11.30pm. I constantly had dirt under my nails, an ache or a pain, and can count how many showers I had in 8 weeks on my two hands, but I loved nearly every single minute of it.
By the end of my two months at camp, I was so pleasantly exhausted. I hugged campers and staff goodbye with teary eyes. It felt like I was leaving a second home. I still find myself awake at 2am on time-difference facetime calls with friends I made there. It was an experience like no other. If you ever get the chance to go on a canoe-trip, go.
