Sam Endres has spent his summers at Camp Chippewa since 2002. He is now the Camp Director, following in the footsteps of his parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents.

A Blown Tire

“Sam, you might want to take a look at the trailer tire.”

I glanced toward the voice coming from the back row of the 15-passenger van. Then I glanced out the rearview mirror at the canoe trailer. Sure enough, smoke was rising from where the trailer wheel, now completely rubber-free, was being pulled down the highway.

I clicked on the hazards and pulled over.

15 minutes later we were back on the road, spare tire in place.

As the trip leader for the nine men riding along with me in the van, I was relieved that the blown tire had not dampened anyone’s spirits.

We stopped at Menard’s for a “spare spare” and were on our way.

I was leading this group to the Canadian wilderness, where we would paddle a gorgeous stretch of river and lakes. Our group had come from around the US, leaving their families, taking time off from work, and spending their hard-earned dollars to go canoeing. I was determined to make the trip worthwhile and memorable.

I hoped the blown tire would be the last unforeseen encumbrance.

It would not be.

The Many Uses of a Can of Baked Beans

In some ways, our group was a disparate one. The men came from California, Florida, North Carolina, Texas, and Washington.

They were as old as 68 and as young as 32.

They worked as coders, property managers, and paramedics.

But what stood out was not the heterogeneity of our crew. It was the unmistakable, unspoken character we all shared, evident throughout our four days in the backcountry.

When the trailer tire blew out, ten men hopped out of the car. Without blinking, one set out the high-vis cones, one started jacking up the trailer, and another took off the bare wheel.

When we realized I did not pack a bailer, we improvised one from an empty can of baked beans (the “Bean Bailer” was bent to match the exact curvature of a canoe’s inner hull, and fitted with a paracord leash and carabiner for quick storage).

When it rained all day, we scoured the forest for kindling, split wood, and started a fire to cook dinner and warm up.

When one of the canoe gunwales snapped, we lashed the hull back together with paracord and had it seaworthy in no time.

I had worried that the blown tire would dampen the group’s spirits. The opposite was true. It invigorated everyone. No obstacle was too big.

The Secret Sauce

As you’ve guessed, our group all shared one vital thing in common. They had all been campers at Camp Chippewa. And while some hadn’t been back to camp or held a canoe paddle in decades, the Chippewa Way was alive and well in each of them.

Sure, we could change a tire or MacGyver just about anything with a coil of cordage and some duct tape.

But what was exceptional about these alumni was how eager, indomitable, and joyous they were in the face of adversity.

When the portage trails led through thick, sucking, shin-deep mud, we facetiously maligned the “smudges” on our shoes.

When the Garmin inReach gave a forecast of “0% chance of precipitation" before raining all day, we laughed in the downpours.

When slow fishing had us cooking our dinner well after sunset, we huddled together around the stoves, frying walleye fillets and sharing stories while braving the swarms of mosquitoes.

As we paddled, we shared stories of where our lives had gone after camp.

Through the trials of work, education, relationships, family—and the blown tires that crop up in each—we found in each other’s stories a shared strength. It was optimism, resilience, and a willingness to work hard.

It was leaving the “campsite” better than you found it.

It was the unmistakable character learned and honed at camp.

Who Campers Grown Up to Be

The real benefit of being a camper at Camp Chippewa is that its impact lasts for life.

The camper who is coached through homesickness in his first year becomes a man who thrives in college and his first time living away from home.

The camper who struggles while portaging a heavy pack on his first Canadian canoe trip becomes a man who doesn’t quit when work, relationships, or life get hard.

The camper who sits around a campfire with a group of brothers becomes a man who can find peace within himself and camaraderie within the communities he is part of.

The truth is, blown tires keep coming in life.

And a Chippewa man doesn't just change those tires. He does so with a smile on his face, ready for the next one.

The most inspiring part of my canoe trip with Camp Chippewa alumni this summer?

Knowing, beyond doubt, that the lessons campers learn at Chippewa stick with them for life.

True North is Camp Chippewa’s newsletter of stories from the North Woods.

There are countless voices out there, but not all help us maintain our sense of direction in life. We hope these stories inspire you to pick up a paddle, step off the beaten path, and take a deep breath of fresh air, following your own True North.

Our authors come from all across the Camp Chippewa community. If you have a story to contribute, please contact Sam or reply to this email.

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