Ch 34 Ghost Cabin

A camp story

The forty CILTs of Session 1 2012 stood in lines in front of the Trading Post. Their arms fist-pumped and flew through the motions as they sang together, “So let’s be best friends, don’t want this to end.” Counselors stood on the porch together, watching the final run through of the night. After practicing for the past hour and finishing the choreography, we had confidence in this very catchy and very long cheer. Up until now we had practiced with them but now the kids sang on their own. Lizzie, Courtney, Olivia and Amber’s show choir expressions would challenge those on Glee or Broadway. All of these campers undoubtedly loved every bit of Camp Tecumseh—which made it easy to make the announcement when they finished.

At the end of their Mean Girl’s one-liner our row of counselors gave an enthusiastic round of applause. “That was awesome—I think you’ve got it now. We’ll totes perform at lunch in the LV tomorrow. In a minute but not yet, the boys will head back to the Yurt for devotions. Girls we’re heading back to the Longhouse for devotions too… then we’re going to sleep out at Ghost Cabin!” You may have heard a few groans but they were easily overpowered by the cheers of more enthusiastic kids. They turned and ran back to the cabin, anxious to pack up.

Girls quickly tore apart their bunk beds as they rolled up sleeping bags and stuffed blankets in their pillowcases. Even though the temperature in June had us sweating all day, everyone bundled up wearing two or three sweatshirts, sweatpants and tall socks just in case a cold front might move in over the Tippy during the night. We told the girls to not pack any snacks in an effort to not attract any wild creatures that might be hungrily roaming the Oak Forest. They went to the bathroom even if they didn’t have to go so they could avoid squatting to pee in the woods later on. Everyone had to wear closed toed shoes because we had to hike to our destination.

Before too long, all thirty-three of us had gathered on the front porch, our arms hugging all of our sleeping supplies so they wouldn’t drag on the trail. A small group of girls volunteered to carry the giant tarps we would spread out on the dirt floor of the cabin. As the tarps came unfolded, they lifted up the drooping sections near them and soon looked like a giant dragon from the Chinese New Year snaking through the woods.

When Sarah Fitz and I led CILTs together in 2001 “Sleep out at Ghost Cabin” made it to the top of our bucket list for the summer. We always tried to contradict the notion that our girls weren’t capable of doing something just because they were girls. Sleeping on the ground of this remote spot, eerily named Ghost Cabin, would be the ultimate challenge and test of the girls’ bravery and toughness. Somehow our goal never came to fruition and the closest we got to a sleep out that summer was when five girls pulled their mattresses out to the front porch. Coming into CILTs this summer I was determined to follow through with the plan and finally check this adventure off the list.

I stuffed my backpack with the essentials: an extra flashlight, another sweatshirt, Camelback water bottle, my retainer, Cold Tangerines, a fully charged camera in the side pocket, first aid kit and a backup radio just in case we needed backup reinforcements. I led the procession of girls into the woods, my headlamp lighting the way for my steps. We passed by the familiar opening campfire and Green Cathedral, now blanketed in the dark of night. Soon on rockier terrain, the girls spaced out a bit more along the trail. It didn’t take long before we passed by the Wolves’ Den and then turned left at the fork in the trail that directed us down the steep incline. Switchbacks crossed back and forth on the hill so that when I looked behind me I could see a zig-zag of bobbing yellow light; the girls’ flashlights glowing like an organized army of fireflies.

Once you get down the hill you follow the path along the Tippecanoe River. We could only see as far as our flashlights could reach. They’d cast long shadows into the woods when we turned to look off the path. About a half mile in, we noticed the glow of a campfire at the Haven hammock sleep out spot close to the water. We yelled hello to what sounded like a cabin of Buffalo guys and continued on our way. Emma, Amber, Ellie, Olivia and Jocele walked right behind me the whole time, talking about adventure and what might be out there in the woods. We could sporadically hear screams of terror or waves of laughter coming from the campers farther behind us on the trail. Lesem and Arielle, the other two counselors, were mixed into the pack making sure no one got lost or left behind in the woods.

The trail eventually runs into Ghost Creek, our next challenge to cross. A thick wooden plank rests on the banks of the creek to form a bridge about a foot over the water.  I held my sleeping bag tighter as I stepped onto the beam. Balancing like a gymnast, I inched across to the other side. Then I turned back around so my headlamp would light the way for the next few girls. “Ok, you can come across now,” I told them. Because only one or two could cross at a time, more of the Longhouse girls caught back up to the front of the line and stood waiting for their turn. After a few had made it over to my side we took off again up the steep hill, the final stretch of our hike.

If you don’t know what you’re looking for, Ghost Cabin can be difficult to spot in the woods--especially in the dark. You would expect to see a small log cabin but all that remains is a stone fireplace and the cement corners of the old foundation. Ahead of the rest of the girls, Emma and I paused when my light caught the shining eyes of two raccoons. We froze in a stare down until the raccoons scurried off because they heard the army of girls behind us.

All thirty-three girls spilled into the clearing, proud they had made it this far and ready to put down all their stuff. Spreading the giant tarps over the dirt would be the next step. A few of us took the corners of the plastic and pulled them out to fit the perimeter of the cabin. Next I started directing the girls on where to unroll their sleeping bags. “Natalie go in this corner, Rachel beside her, then you Emily.” Once a row filed into their spots I’d start on the far side again for the next line. To fit this many girls in such a small space we had to squeeze tightly together. Pillows sat on top of other people’s feet and backpacks were stuck wherever we could find a gap. A chill started to set in and we agreed being so scrunched together might help keep us warm.

I took pictures of all the girls, the flash illuminating just our campout in the midst of the dark woods. The girls’ recently showered hair had been pulled back in braids and messy buns. They sat in a sea of bright fleece blankets and shiny sleeping bags-- best friends with their arms around each other. This was a night to remember.

Already later than our regular bedtime because of our brave escapade, I asked the girls to settle in for the night. A trick I learned early on in my counseling days is to read a few chapters as campers are falling asleep. Then they actually fall asleep instead of whispering to their bunk buddy or shining their flashlight around the cabin. It worked like a charm on this night too, though I had to swat away bugs as I read. My voice joined the sounds of crickets and other bugs in the night. After two chapters I switched off my head lamp and tucked it, along with the book, into my backpack. Just laying down in my skinny little spot between Arielle and Maddy made noise. I tried to be quiet so as not to wake anyone up. Through the tree branches above me I could see the light of the bright moon but my ears focused on the sounds in the woods all around us.

When all the girls had marched in and set up camp we barely noticed the trees around us or thought about the creatures that might be nearby. Now that the girls were silent it was as if the volume of the rest of the forest had been amplified. But now I was the only one awake to hear it. Leaves crunched under the weight of something walking nearby.

I grew up calling all of camp my backyard. Nature vacations were routine in my family. I’d slept in tents in Colorado and camped and canoed in the Canadian Boundary Waters. I prided myself in being the outdoorsy type who could certainly handle a little sleep-out in the woods of Camp Tecumseh.

But as I heard sticks snap and leaves rustle my imagination started to go crazy with the possibilities. What if it’s a deer? No—it’s a raccoon. Maybe it’s a whole family of raccoons. What if they go exploring and climb on us? I’m in between people so they probably won’t climb on me first. Can raccoons see in the dark? Are they looking at me right now? What’s that hissing noise? Do raccoons hiss? Would it help if I threw a stick in the woods or would that make it mad? What if I fall asleep and wake up with one on my feet? That’s definitely an animal hissing very close.

I sat straight up when I heard the leaves move again. Closer this time. I had just gotten everyone to fall asleep but I didn’t want to be the only one awake. “Is anyone else awake?” I whispered into the dark. A chorus of voices responded, “Yes!” and I could see the silhouettes of girls scattered all over the site sit up. I thought I was the last one awake but apparently I hadn’t been alone. “I thought I was the only one awake—I was so scared,” one girl whispered. We clicked our flashlights back on and shined their light in-between the trees looking for… we weren’t quite sure.

At Tecumseh we get to invite kids to be part of an adventure. They swim across the lake and back for a purple swim band. In the game of Empire they battle other kingdoms for power. We paddle canoes around the bend of the River. There are zip lines that send you soaring over the Richard G Lake. We thrive on adventure.

Both Arielle and Lesem sat awake beside me now. We had a counselor huddle. All of us were sufficiently freaked out but we agreed it was too late to hike all the way back to the safety of the Longhouse—we’d have to tough it out. Girls turned their lights into the forest from time to time. Whether the lights would deter animals or make them more curious we were unsure. “Don’t raccoons look for shiny things and take them?” someone asked. The three of us glanced over at our backpacks and tennis shoes that we had lined up on the stone ledge by our feet for only a second before grabbing it so no raccoons would steal them. Bags now stuffed with our shoes, we lumped them under our blankets to keep them safe. “Just in case I do wake up with a raccoon on top of me,” I asked, “Should I sleep on my back so I can use my arms to fight him off or sleep on my stomach so my face will be protected?” We decided the “protect the face” method would be the best move. I knew I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep if all the girls were quiet so I laid back down and hoped I’d be able to drift off while they kept whispering.

A few hours later I woke up in the pitch black to Emma shaking my shoulder and whispering my name, “Sarah… Sarah… Sarah…” Eyes barely open, I asked her what she needed. “Sorry I woke you up, I still can’t fall asleep. I’m really scared. Can you pray again?” I rolled onto my side and stretched my arm over my head to hold her hand. I yawned and then whispered, “God, please help Emma fall asleep. Please keep away the raccoons and help us to not be scared. We know that you’ll keep us safe. Amen.” I rolled back over as Emma said, “Thank you.” I barely had time to “Mhmmm” before I fell back asleep.

The next time I awoke it was because of the sounds of birds and the bright light of the rising sun streaking through the trees. We had officially survived the night. I pulled my arm out of my cocoon to glance at my watch—7:12. “GIRLS! WAKE UP! WE’RE LATE!” On a regular camp day my clock beeps at 7:20. The early alarms I’d set either didn’t go off at all or were muffled deep in my bag that I’d hidden from the raccoons. Now we had to high tail it back through the woods if we didn’t want to be late.

I quickly folded and packed up all of my things, trying to get the sleepy girls to hurry too. Many of them had only slept a few hours on the rocky ground and hiking back to the River Village did not rank very high on the list of things they wanted to do. A few of us refolded the giant tarps and checked to make sure we hadn’t left anything behind. Now 7:25, we had only twenty minutes before the hopper bell would ring. “Let’s go girls—fast as you can.” Our  little train hiked back down the hill, across the beam over the creek, down the long trail where we could now see the River, back up the switchbacks cut into the side of the hill, past the Wolves’ Den, down the next hill through chapel and then finally across the covered bridge and back into Main Field.

I held open the door as the girls walked into our cabin, “Just get dressed and come back out. We’ll clean up all our stuff later.” In the next few minutes madness ensued as girls threw their things on their bunk, or just dropped it all in the middle of the floor. They found clean clothes, brushed their teeth, tied their hair up in a ponytail and ran back outside just in time to see the flag go up.

Sleeping out at Ghost Cabin fits in the category of “awesome experiences I never want to have again.” Adventures are like that sometimes. We want to do something that’s never been done before. We want to have the bravery of Amelia Earhart and the courage of Louis and Clark. We want to accomplish a terrifying feat and live to tell about it. The shared experience of a night like ours brought the CILT girls closer together and became a story we’d retell over and over again. Even though it was a highlight of that summer I think I can live without ever being terrified of a middle-of-the-night-raccoon-attack again. Perhaps for our next adventure we’ll go scuba diving in the lake or ride horses around camp all day long. Maybe other cabins will want to connect through a system of tin can and string telephones. We could even start a tattoo clinic and get Irving’s face emblazoned on our ankles.