Up Deep Creek Lake with a Paddle

Day Three – Tubing and tumbling at Deep Creek Lake

The morning dawned early for everyone today.  In part because everyone one has to be up and ready to roll at 8 a.m. so we can have devotional and be down at the boat rental place at 9.  The second reason it comes so early is that we were all kept up late by a dying bird.  Well, turns out it wasn’t a dying bird, but the scout making that noise after 11 pm was risking death and dismemberment.  He is just fortunate most of us were too tired to unzip our tents.

We have evidence that we had another nocturnal visitor because he/she left a footprint on the back of a plate that was left out.

We get up, have our usual breakfast menu, have devotional and head for the boat rental docks.  We arrive at a two story building with a screen door on the front.  We walk through the door and are whisked back in time to somewhere in the mid-70s.  I keep expecting for Jim Rockford to come out of the back with Angel (if you don’t get that reference, don’t worry, you are simply too young or lived too sheltered a childhood).  He sits down and it is like renting a car only worse – you know the drill:  “please sign here, here, here, here, here, and here; initial here and here; feel free to take the time to read the fine print but don’t mind me I’m just sitting here waiting on you while others also need help and besides all it says is what I already told you with the possible exception of the part that states if you do any damage whatsoever to this boat I own you, all your worldly possessions and your first born.”  I am relatively stress free as Conway is the one having to sign the paperwork.  He pulls out a map, reminds us that if we do any damage to the boat including the props we will owe him bags of money and then he tells us where we can’t drive – which seems on the map to be a large portion of the lake – that we can’t pull folks under the bridges, that there are speed limits in some locations and the lake is practically crawling with cops.  Having most of the sunshine sucked out of my balloon we ask if there is a beach front we can use to drop off those who won’t be in the boat.  He starts telling us about docks by subway restaurants, etc.  We tell him that isn’t quite what we had in mind.  He then refers  us to the state park as probably the best location.  We leave two cars at the boat rental lot and the other two vehicles load up and head to the state park. 

The rental place doesn’t rent out wakeboards but we have provisioned a tube and a pair of water skis.  The boat holds about 8 – so with a driver and the two deep, we can take 6 boys per trip – so it will take three groupings to get everyone out and we have to divide them by size so that the boat can pull folks out of the water.  Turns out the boat has the pulling power of a coconut laden swallow, which is to say, not a lot.  This then requires a Chinese fire-drill whenever anyone changes position so that we keep enough weight in the front of the boat. 

We no sooner clear the buoys from the docks than we pull out the tube and start the festivities.  It is a two person tube, sort of.   It was a pretty tight fit with some of the Priests - especially after it started deflating.  We tried to get a willing, able, and skilled driver, but all we had was me (2 out of 3 ain’t bad?).   I do have to admit a sort of guilty pleasure out of matching my ability to throw them from the tube against their youthful exuberance and physicality.  It is pretty fun to get that turn just right so the cut of the boat whips the tube out of the wake and skims across the water at a high velocity while it’s inhabitants lean into it and hope that the tube won’t catch a wave an toss them.  Fortunately, for entertainment purposes, it frequently did.   Don’t worry moms, I was pretty nice to them.  Most the time.  But not so nice that 1) they didn’t feel challenged, and 2) that they stayed on the tube too long.   In fact I think the most damage we did to any youth was a little hand burn from the tube whipping after the rope got too slack once and some wounded ego – not from falling off, but from not being able to get on.  We weren’t so fortunate with the leaders as Conway managed to put a pretty nice slit into his toe on the prop.  What made that better was that he bled all over the boat which some of the YM hoped might chum sharks.  None appeared.

We had a few folks who gave skiing a shot, but if they didn’t already know how to ski, the water was pretty choppy and our time too short to really give them a good try, but they got an A for effort.  We also pulled into a cove with each group and let them jump off the boat into the water.  I sort of lost track, but I think most the YM took a turn out on the boat and everyone who was on the boat tried the tube at least once or twice seemed to enjoy it.  Conway was my co-pilot for the first and last trips while Randy took the middle session with me.  The also served as our offical photographers and got some great shots!

John had the unenviable task to keep the bulk of them busy at the park while we were on the water.  At one point we were boating out from the state park where we could see them and I did see some bocce ball being played.  There was a small beach area they enjoyed but the rest of the lakefront activities were given the kybosh because they had pretty strict regulations about what you needed before you could be in the water and as we mentioned earlier, lots of water cops to enforce it.  At one point I thought I saw a scene similar to one from Lord of the Flies taking place, but it might have been the sun stroke setting in on me.

We did have a couple incidents on the boat when the boat would not get up to speed.  It would choke like it was running out of gas.  The first time this happened, we do what most manly NoVA men do – we opened the “hood” and looked at the engine.  We touched it here or there, looked for anything that any 5 year old might have noticed being wrong, and not seeing anything then announced in our manliest voices “well, I don’t see anything that seems to be wrong with it.”  As we were making our way back it started to act up again.  We were all a little disgusted with it and it was suggested that given that they rented us a faulty boat, maybe they should cut us a little bargin on the boat.  And we had to re-inflate that tube ourselves since we were on the other side of the lake.  We were in line to get gas at that point but decided maybe they would throw in the gas as an exchange.  Under the “you don’t get what you don’t ask for” line of thought we sent our A team negotiators – Conway and Jacob to work some magic.  I stayed behind and helped get the boat tied up and clean out.  The boy at the docks looked at the floor of the boat and asked what that was.  I told him it was blood.  He told me that if we didn’t get it cleaned up he was going to charge us the $250 cleaning fee.  Hmm, that seems to be going in the wrong direction.  So some of the YM came over and used their towels to help clean it up.  Apparently our A team hadn’t been up against the likes of Jim Rockford before because they came back and had to go put gas in the boat.

All things considered, it was a fun day on the water.  I wish I had more water to drink and some more sunscreen, but it was fun.  And most the youth seemed to manage to use enough sunscreen.  We did have one YM who apparently didn't quite get enough on his face.  After we were done boating multiple attempts were made to let him know that his skin tone resembled that of a ripe tomato and offers of Aloe were given - but turned down.  The YM indicating that he was sure it was red but that it would by tomorrow be a lovely golden brown.  We have our doubts.  Aloe.  Aloe.  Aloe.

When we had first arrived to return the boat John was there and said they were headed back to camp.  We said we would join them as soon as we could.  Because we had to drive slowly back to the gas station and then back down it took a little while – like close to 30 minutes to get gas and get back.  Then we still needed to run to grab some groceries for dinner.   After reaching the store I realized that my wallet was left on the boat.  We called them and they said they were closing but would leave it on the boat.  As you can imagine, I was quite anxious to retrieve said wallet.  So my car took off to retrieve that while the other car bought groceries.  Arriving at the dock I retrieved my wallet and we proceeded to camp.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, or rather camp, it was more like Lord of the Flies.  Those who had arrived put on some water and expected the food to be there shortly.  When the water boiled, which takes some time, and the food had not arrived.  The natives went crazy and started to eat organic food.  Not like pine bark and wild roots, but Marcus’s organic food he had brought.  I arrived with the food just in time to prevent all of them from becoming organic food eaters and thereby increasing the food budgets of their families exponentially.  We dined on al dente pasta (interpreted as “we cooked it as long as we could but were too hungry to let it cook all the way), with a marinara sauce, a lot of garlic bread (does that attract or repel mosquitoes?), and some fruit. 

The typical field games took place again, but I was feeling a little tired from the day on the water so I remained behind.  John “Ironman” Evans played.  Bro. Casillas cooked donuts for the boys while Hunter presented the devotional that night.  After which I happily climbed into my tent for the last time. 

HIgh Adventure - Whisked Away to White Water at Wisp

Day Two – Whisked away to White water at Wisp

Arose to an overcast gray sky this morning.  We had breakfast of eggs, sausage patties, and pancakes.  The eggs were not egg-actly egg-cellent, but with enough ketchup a few hardy souls enjoyed.  One of the blessings of pancakes on the wild is that no matter how bad they are, with enough syrup they taste sort of sweet and mapley. 

After breakfast most the crew clamored for another trip to the falls.   Brothers Evans and Barrus made the sacrifice to take them down there again.  I did, however, notice a gleam in their eyes and that they had put on their swim trunks.  Bro. Evans assured me that he was just going to maybe do a little wading as the temperature wasn’t that warm.  I told him I’d be willing to make a rather substantial wager against that being the case. 

Those of us who remained behind were lead by Brother Casillas in a very engaging conversation about politics, a recently completed murder trial, and various other weighty subjects.  It was enjoyable campfire talk even though the fire circle we were gathered around contained no actual fire.   The falls group returned and reported that all scouts taken were accounted for.  And, yes, Bro. Evans had managed to do far more than wade.  Coulda been a rich man….

We had sandwiches for lunch with some chips, a piece of fruit and bottomless fruit punch.  Interesting how much the PB&J is consumed over lunch meat.  After lunch is cleaned up, we load up into cars to head to Wisp and the Adventure Sports Center International (ASCI).   Here is the blurb from their web page:  “[T]he world’s only adjustable whitewater sports venue that offers class I - IV whitewater in a “controlled” environment. The 1/3 mile artificial river features authentic whitewater rapids, and is the most natural looking and feeling course of its kind in the world. Large boulders, excavated onsite, frame the course and shape the rapids -- this is not a theme park ride, but we are confident that Walt Disney would have been envious. ASCI's raft “conveyor” conveniently transports you from the finish pond to the start pool, eliminating the traditional shuttle of natural river rafting experiences.”  

Yes! Now that smells like High Adventure!

We arrive early to be sure we have a chance to scope it out and maximize our time on the water.  It turns out that this is a fairly regimented process and they have it down to a science.  We will not be called till 1:30 and then we will be done right around 3:30 or so when they will shut down the pumps and the river will drain into the bottom pond for the night.  We sit on the rocks by the river for a little while and then the boys realize that up at the top there is a bit of the water that is buoyed off where you can get your feet wet.  It is probably less than a foot deep but some of them lay down in it to play and have breath holding contests.  Some disappointed 4 year olds are displaced.  I find a spot under the white canopy at a picnic table and wait our turn.  Up on the big board for the 1:30 time are listed 4 Casillas groups – 3 rafts with 5 people and one with 6.  There are at least 5-10 other raft groups that will be going out with us at 1:30 but most of those are comprised of smaller groups.  Bro. Evans divvies up the raft groups.  At 1:30 we are called to gather around Jay, a 40-ish year old bearded tan gentleman wearing shades, a t-shirt without sleeves, and swim trunks.  Something about him reminds me of a cross between Barry Gibb of the Bee Gees and Chuck Norris.  Instead he launches into his spiel using jokes that he has clearly used countless times before laying out how it is going to go down.  We can leave our stuff we wish to have dry after at the drop off area and if we don’t our odds of seeing them again are extremely long should they fall out.  We then walk over the bridge and down to the boat house where we don some very fashionable life jackets and helmets and head out to hear Jay do some more of his spiel including a discourse on the dangers of your oar while in the boat due to its ability to slice skin and remove teeth from your neighbour and a cheap stuff joke about the gentlemen keeping their legs together should they end up overboard and heading towards a rock.  A few uncomfortable chuckles follow.  We are taught how to tighten up our jackets as they will be used if needed to help extricate us from the river should the need arise.  It was then finally time to load up and move out.

I wish I had more pictures to provide and more tales to tell from the various boats, but I’ll be honest with you, I was there to enjoy myself far more than I was concerned about providing this report.  I love white-water rafting.  I was all participant, but I’ll do my best to provide you a flavour of the antics of our boat and some of those provided to me by other boats.  My boat had Bro. Evans and myself, and Jacob, Hunter, and Marcus.  Our guide’s name was Mark - he had just graduated from a satellite campus of Penn St., he was a kayaker, and did this work and winter ski instructor to support his kayak habit.  He may have had other habits requiring money, but those were not mentioned.  The old guys got in on the right side (think passenger side of a car) with John in front and me behind with the YM on the left and the guide in the guide position.  We practiced some strokes and realized that those YM were being overpowered by the old guys – probably something about our knowledge that we are not invincible (contrary to what the YM think or themselves) and that our lives might depend on rowing through some of those rapids.  So we had to follow Marcus’ stroke pattern so they could keep up.  After this brief tutorial where we learned the “forward”, “back”, and “rest” commands as we floated around the end pond we paddled over to head up the conveyer belt to the top of the course.

At the top of the course off to the right hand side is the beginning of what I consider the course.  But to the left are two rapids where the water comes out of the pump.  Our guide steers us over to those to start out.  As we are edging into the rapids headfirst the boat swings around and out goes Hunter heels over head out of the boat.  We chuckle at his expense while we pull him back in. This is going to be fun.  The rest of the trip down is fun as we ride the rapids.  As we get to the last one that drops you down into the pond at the bottom, the guide says something about how you can lose the guide and he uses the catapult action of the drop to shoot himself about 3 feet into the air while doing a back flip out of the boat.  Hey, we want to try that!  Once he got back in we all jumped in while we floated back around to the ramp up to the top again. 

Rather than bore you with a blow by blow of each trip, I’ll share just a few  with you here, including some tales from other boats that we heard only after the fact as we were discussing the day around the campfire later that night.   Our next trip down we wanted to shoot Marcus out of the boat, and lets just say that at best his timing was off... there was no launch.  The third trip down we all were to launch out of the boat when the guide gave the signal.  He gave the signal and I went to jump and pretty much just fell out of the boat.  Bro. Evans who was right in front of me was more successful in jumping which put him out of the boat before me such that as I fell out I was able to provide him with my body to land on.  Bro. Evans and Jacob enjoyed seeing who could catch the other off guard and tip them out of the boat – and I believe both were successful on multiple occasions.  We had some king of the raft battles after we had turned over the raft in the bottom pond area.  I couldn’t even get up onto the raft let alone battle for king.  I think Hunter found the water most often.  You had to be very careful when you were sitting across from Marcus as his first move when any waves would show up would be to move into the middle of the boat – leading with the t grip of his paddle.  Bro Evans and I were both thankful for the helmets as they deflected multiple blows from Marcus’s paddle.  We surfed a number of the waves and even had a double surf with another raft from our group for a while.  We got out and jumped off a boulder into the flow.  We attempted to deflate other rafts from our group.

My favorite memory, and one I hope I will remember for many years to come, was when we swamped our raft.  It was nearing the end of the day and we went over the rapids sideways to try to swamp.  The raft was tipping up but hadn’t gone over yet.  I was at the front right and Bro. Evans on the front left.  The left side was down and we were trying to get the right side to flip over it.  I remember standing up and leaning towards the water and the center of the raft while grabbing the panic strap to pull the boat with me.  I looked down and could see Bro. Evans on his back, looking up at me, the water rushing just below his head as he is about to go under.  About that time Jacob grabbed his panic strap and jumped forward and the raft flipped and we all went tumbling into the white water. I was laughing so hard I almost swallowed a wave and drowned myself!  That was a blast. 

Brother Barrus had one far less enjoyable fall from his boat.  During one of the runs he was thrown backwards off his raft but unfortunately, his foot was wedged tightly between the side of the raft and the floor of the raft.  He was upside down in the water and he couldn’t get his foot out.  He felt his knee pull out and then twist – he thought for sure it was dislocated.  And, he couldn’t get out.  He later told us that he couldn’t be sure how long he was stuck that way, but it was long enough that his life was flashing before his eyes and he did have a moment he wondered if this was how it was going to end for him.  Fortunately for all of us, but particularly for him, it was not the end of his trip here on the big blue planet and he was pulled from the water.

Too soon our 2 hour timer ended and final runs were completed and the boats stowed.  We returned our jackets and helmets and were transformed from river gods back to mere land lubbers once again.  They had photographers along the course and monitors at the end.  We spent some time reviewing the pictures they took and then took one of our own.

We loaded into cars and made our way around the mountain over to Wisp resort.  Wisp is a ski resort during the winter, but during the summer months they have a zip line course, a ropes course and a mountain coaster.  A mountain coaster is similar to an Alpine Slide which I have been on before but a little more advanced.  You sit in a hard yellow plastic moulded sled with a seat, back support and head rest with a seat belt on.  The sled is connected to the tracks and they claim it won’t come off the tracks – even though we watched them load a few new sleds to the track while we were there and there appeared to be no special hardware that had to be clamped on to secure it to the track.  The only controls are two poles that stick up on the sides that are perpendicular to the sled.  If they are pushed all the way forward the brakes are off.  If they are left up the brakes are on.  It was determined almost instantly upon arrival that anyone using their brakes on the way down should have attended camp up here last year rather than this year. 

The ride up was much like riding the chair lift up the mountain except you had a better feel for the steepness of the slope as you were on it rather than above it.  About midway up you were released from the lift and immediately began the descent.  It was a little difficult to keep the brakes off because you had to lean forward and down while at the same time attempting to keep the centrifical forces from slinging you around and doing permanent damage to your kidneys.  There were a few less than silky joints in the track that were not all that pleasant but it was a pretty fast ride down and flying through the couple 360 turns was pretty fun.  Some of the boys enjoyed it, others thought it a little lame.  I can see both viewpoints.  It isn’t worth a special trip, but if I’m there anyway, I might do it again.

There was a little snack grill in the main building and those who had brought their money enjoyed some poweraid and I saw quite a few orders of french fries (and one of “chips” that looked a lot like french fries) consumed by ravenous YM.  It was clearly time to get them back to camp for dinner.  We all loaded up and began the 30 minute trip home caravan style.  Caravan style always reminds me of the song Convoy but we had no CB radios.  We were driving along and the lead vehicle slammed on its breaks for something we couldn’t see – I mean really, who can see anything around a Suburban.  Bro. Casillas was in the second position and was barely able to avoid John’s rear end by swerving to the right – which was unfortunately, also where the cyclist that had started the episode had swerved off to.  I’m pretty sure that provided the drivers with far more of an adrenalin rush than the mountain coaster had managed but as they say, no harm, no foul.  The rest of the trip home was uneventful. 

We arrived at camp and began work on dinner – taco salad.  Well, that was what the menu said.  Instead, it appeared that most of the youth must be lettuce intolerant and so they instead had nachos rather than salad.  Isn’t there some saying about you can lead a young man to lettuce but you can’t make him eat it?  After dinner another game of volleyball took place.  At one point my team was included 3 Nates and 2 Scotts.  “Nate that’s yours” didn’t work so well… 

Once again as nightfall came on us we gathered at camp for devotional.  Bro. Casillas had asked all the boys to gather up a stone and they each had a chance to nail a Goliath forehead (simulated by a tin can lid taped to a tree at the appropriate height) with a wrist rocket for a crisp $20 bill.  While I think Hunter came the closest, no one was able to hit the target.  We then had a discussion about David – about his faith and courage.  We talked about his life and how he eventually made poor decisions that ruined not only his life but his afterlife.  We talked about how faith is needed for miracles.  The spirit was really strong and I think we all enjoyed it.  Not too long after he concluded, my peach cobbler was ready and it must not have been too bad as there were no leftovers. 

It was a great day with a great group of young and not so young men.  It was a day well worth the cost, the hard bed at night, the mosquito bites, the vacation time used. This was a day I’ll hopefully remember for a long time. 

Quote overheard at dinner:  “That’s not Carrie Underwood, that’s Quiet Riot!”

HIgh Adventure 2013 - Swallow Falls

High Adventure - Team and Crew 1106
Tuesday, July 16, 2013

Once more boldly (or at least with far less trepidation than the 12-13 year olds) going where no men have gone before (because, admittedly, this trip was based at least in some part on the outline from girls camp last summer – thanks Cheryl and Donna!) – I have been embedded into 1106’s team and crew as they embark on High Adventure this year.  Because it is summer and teens tend to avoid those pesky early a.m. hours (unless, of course, you consider early a.m. hours those from midnight to say three a.m. in which case I would think you would find a much larger portion interested) the departure time is set for 10:00 a.m. with arrival at 9:30 so that “tetris” can be played with gear.  As we have done the math, we have 4 drivers for 17 young men and all their gear including tents and food which we generally don’t have at scout camp.  However, John Evans, our de facto leader as anyone with higher rank than him is 1) hard to find generally and 2) smart enough to have made other plans, has through his cunning ways acquired a suburban for the trip and masterfully fills it to capacity plus.  No wonder he is in charge.  We pray and then forget the obligatory first photo and load up.  However, we aren’t quite ready to all head out as one family has to make what seems to be a record 3 trips back to their home for various and sundry items including, of course, their paperwork.  So rather than a caravan, we head out at slightly varied times. 

We put the info into the on board navigation and rather than sending us up 15 as I thought, it sends us west on 7.  Everyone else followed the directions John had printed.  We instead enjoy a leisurely stroll through VA, WV, and finally into MD.  We arrive not long after John and decide that our routes are probably pretty close in drive time but not distance. 

We arrive at camp and check in with the rangers.  They ask us for the paper ticket.  We have no paper ticket so we furiously ping Bro. Linton to find out about the ticket.  He has received no such ticket.  It remains to be seen if this will be a continuing headache or not as they let us in at this point even without it.

The youth group area has 3 camp sites.  We are assigned to #3.  There is a scout troop from GA here – they have matching tents, a big trailer to haul their gear.   Very impressive.  Our camp is, well, let’s just say that our free spirits apparently aren’t too comfortable with that level of conformity.  Youth stake out tent sites and tent mates, check out the bathrooms, try to hold the door shut on each other, have slight water fights, and we realize it must be time for a hike.

When John was in talking to the ranger, he inquired about swimming at the falls and was told that if you do, death or dismemberment could happen, but that there were some places you could get in if you wanted.  Most of the boys thought that was clearly enough of an invitation and switch into swim gear.  The hike was supposed to be 1.5 miles.  After a pretty short haul we come to the falls and they are pretty impressive.  They also have many people frolicking in them.  Hmm, the “getting in” situation is not quite what we have been told.  However, we are on the top of the falls and one could get injured from up there, so we tell the boys we will finish the hike loop and then come back.  So we continue up the path and get to very relaxing little falls and then in what can’t be more than 5 or maybe 8 and a half minutes after we left it, we are back at the big falls again.  We headed down the path, passing a family in swim gear with sub-baptismal age youth with them giving us further inkling of the awaiting “death waters” we are approaching.  We all head down and remove shoes and socks and shirts for a little gentle wading in the stream below the falls.  After discussing the buddy system and the safe swim methods with the boys, we let them in the water to enjoy the cool water on their legs.  That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.  The boys have a great time and then we head back to camp for dinner.  On the way I stop at the office/store to pick up some wood since we can’t bring our own.  Jacob and Hunter and one or two others curiously join me.  Curious to me at least until I meet Erika behind the desk.  I had no idea what her name was, but strangely Hunter and Jacob did.  I reckon Erika sells a lot of drinks to thirsty adolescent males.

Dinner is our foil dinner that they (and when I say “they” I mean the 30% of us that showed up on Thursday evening to make ours and the rest of them get what Bro. Evans tossed into tinfoil for them) pre-assembled.  Of course we used pre-cooked hamburger patties and veggies, so this is really more of a warming exercise than a cooking one.  But of course, one does need fire for things like warming.  The prior group left a lot of charcoal briquettes (Bro. Haselden told me once that an American dictionary maker changed a number of words just to be different from the Britts – I’m curious as to why he didn’t change that one…but I digress).  Jacob “fire starter” Hamm is given the task to get the firewood we just purchased to burn such that we can cook.  He is experienced and starts making some kindling and setting up his log cabin.  He does a tremendous job.  All except for actually starting the fire.  There are complaints about it being wet wood but regardless, we still have cold or frozen dinners.  Various other plans are hatched to generate fire – I use my chimney and the “left over” charcoal won’t light.  Conway pulls out his one burner stove and we fire it up and put the wood right on the burner and it lights – somewhat and then goes out as soon as placed on the fire.  I finally get my own charcoal and get that started while Bro. Evans runs to the store to see if they have any scout water.  They don’t, and that is all Erika tells him.  But being used to rejection but not failure he rummages around the store and finds they do have fire starters and he purchases and returns and since we have pretty much dried out the wood now – we get a fire started. 

The boys then dump their dinners directly onto flaming logs in a rush to eat.  There is a constant call for the tongs and they are passed along continuously as foil packets which used to have names on them are turned over and over in a mostly random manor, generally with multiple boys thinking it is their meal, the anticipation, hunger and curiosity overwhelming them resulting in it being pulled out, finding it is still somewhat frozen, re-wrapping not ‘quite’ as well as it was previously wrapped and dropping it back into the flames to be turned over shortly by someone with the power of the tongs.   I’m reminded of that saying about power corrupts and trust me the power of the tongs is ultimate power.  I grab most the leaders meals and place them on the briquettes I started.  That is some good even heat.  I find the hickory seasoning very good and Doug Nichols secret weapon adds some additional very enjoyable flavor and I quite enjoy my dinner.  We have cheater smoores for dessert (using chocolate covered graham cookies).  Very good.  Most folks eat a dinner that is a little burned and a little cold.  Yep, typical foil dinners. 

After dinner we head down to the field for field activities.  There is a sand volleyball pit with a net and the crew gravitates that way.  If you have ever watched beach volley ball on tv, like at the Olympics, it was exactly like that.  Only we weren’t in really small bikinis (thankfully) or speedos, there were about 9 per side rather than 2, and our apparent efficiency experts decided that a set was less efficient than simply pushing the ball immediately back over the net.  Despite what you may hear from some boys, despite playing for quite a while, I saw but one partial block and no real good spikes. But we had a great time, and of course my side won. 

While nearly all the boys were enthralled with the game.  One member of the crew found other interests.  Well not so much other interests since some YM were playing catch and that is what he ended up doing, but with a couple YW for company.  Casanova was making friends and influencing people.  When this was noted by some YM they were very jealous and wondered how he did it.  I told them that among other things he might have going for him, he had at least one thing that they would never have – a really cool accent.  We played Frisbee, shooting sports and volleyball until it was so dark that we had a hard time doing most those things and then headed back to camp. 

At camp folks re lit the fire and we had devotional by Nate B. who talked about the differences between Ammon and Jonah.  Prayer was said and I went to bed.  Looking forward to tomorrow – white water!