I hadn’t worn a Camp Chippewa staff shirt since 2012.

Fourteen years is a long time. Long enough for careers to change, families to grow, and life to take you in directions you never imagined.

Yet as I drove back through the gates this summer, it felt as though I’d never really left; the haunting call of the loon drifting across Cass Lake. The familiar cry of “Rise and Shine” echoing through the pines. Taps signaling the close of another unforgettable day. The smell of the Trip House. Even the shrieks from Scatterball’s infamous Wussy Corner. Etched into the senses.

Some places leave you with memories.

Camp Chippewa leaves you with something much deeper.

For years, this was my second home. It shaped not just my summers, but the person I became. Returning after fourteen years reminded me of something remarkable. So much in life has changed, yet the things that matter most here haven’t.

And I mean that as the highest compliment.

The traditions haven’t survived simply because they’re old. They’ve endured because they’re timeless. Boys still paddle the same lakes. They still gather around campfires. They still laugh in the cabins, challenge themselves on canoe trips, and discover strengths they never knew they possessed.

The adventures are still as exciting as ever.

The traditions still mean something.

And, just as they did when I was on staff previously, they’re quietly shaping the character of another generation of boys.

Last summer’s Alumni Rendezvous reignited something that had quietly been buried beneath work, family life and the relentless pace of adulthood. It reminded me how precious time really is, and how fortunate I was to have the opportunity to return, even if only for a couple of weeks this summer.

Because every summer matters.

Every counselor has the opportunity to encourage confidence.

Every canoe trip teaches resilience.

Every cabin creates lifelong friendships.

Every tradition quietly helps shape the men these boys will become.

If you asked me to choose my favorite in-camp activity, I can answer immediately. It would be an open evening fishing on Buck Lake.

Now, here’s the funny thing…

I’m not really a fisherman.

I don’t spend weekends on the water, and I certainly couldn’t tell you the difference between half the lures in a tackle box. Yet year after year, this has remained my favorite evening at camp.

Because it isn’t really about the fishing.

It’s about slowing down. It’s about enjoying the moment in a beautiful setting with eager campers, young and old, as the sun sinks behind the pines, talking about life, sharing stories, and enjoying the kind of peace that’s becoming increasingly rare.

Then comes the shout.

A line tightens. A rod bends. A camper has caught his very first fish.

The smile that follows says everything.

Yes, they’ve caught a fish - perhaps multiple fish - but they’ve also discovered patience, perseverance and quiet confidence.. They leave the dock with a memory to cherish, a lifetime first, a moment in time where nothing else mattered.

That’s what makes open evenings at Buck Lake so special.

Like so much at Camp Chippewa, the activity is only the beginning. Fishing isn’t really about fishing, just as canoe trips aren’t simply about paddling, and campfires aren’t just about cooking. They’re all opportunities to do what Camp Chippewa has always done so well: build character through adventure, inspired by tradition.

Up until fourteen years ago, I had watched those moments unfold again and again.

This summer, I have watched them happen once more.

Nothing had changed.

The same excitement. The same pride. The same wide-eyed grin holding up a first fish.

Except this time, the camper holding it was my son.

Watching him catch his very first fish on Buck Lake was a truly meaningful moment and a privilege to witness.

This summer has been my first experience of camp from the other side.

For the first time, I wasn’t simply returning as a counselor.

I was returning as a camp parent, too.

I now understand the careful packing. Labeling every T-shirt and pair of socks. Completing the forms. Double-checking the travel plans. Packing the meds. Reassuring him and his Mum (Mom) that it’s perfectly natural to feel nervous, because missing each other is simply part of an adventure worth having.

For years, I was the one meeting campers at the airport gate or waving goodbye as parents drove away, trusting us with the people they loved most.

This summer, I became one of those parents.

And standing in that parking lot when the bus arrived gave me an entirely new appreciation for the trust families place in Camp Chippewa.

Parents aren’t simply sending their sons away for a few weeks.

They’re investing in who they’ll become.

They’re trusting that somewhere between the canoe trips, campfires, fishing evenings, archery ends, friendships, and traditions, their sons will return home a little more confident, a little more resilient, and a little more independent than when they left.

Having now stood on both sides of that experience, I can honestly say my appreciation for Camp Chippewa has never been greater.

In a world that seems to change faster every year, there is something incredibly reassuring about a place that remains true to its purpose. Fourteen years may have passed since I last wore a staff shirt, but Camp Chippewa still feels exactly as it did then—and that’s because its purpose has never changed.

It still builds character through adventure, inspired by tradition.

Some things are simply too good to change.

And perhaps that’s what finding your True North is really all about.

-- Ben T.

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