Catching the big one - a camp's fishing director

There she was, Old Green, our pontoon boat. Seventy years old and mint green, she was only marginally seaworthy. Finding a staff person willing to take the helm of Old Green, let alone direct the fishing program, wasn't easy. At the end of counselor training, the camp director traditionally chose a new, unknowing staff member for the "honor" of fishing director. Usually the staff member, who was temporarily excited about the position, spent the rest of the summer trying in desperation to find a way off of Old Green and away from its wild-eyed crew. But then came John Windsong.

Captain John

John had trouble at camp. He couldn't keep sailboats upright, tripped over soccer balls, and collapsed tents. We quietly grumbled at administrative meetings about what to do with John. Finally, at one meeting the camp director mentioned we still had not filled the fishing director position. Everyone's eyes lit up.

John ran excitedly to the waterfront and looked Old Green up and down. He was as proud of that old boat as the skipper of any ship. John put a fresh coat of paint on Old Green's deck and installed racks for fishing poles. He cleaned the fishing shack and hung fishing diagrams, charts, and photos. He created a system of incentive awards for campers who caught a certain number or type of fish. John told myths and legends about fishing to campers as though they were sitting around the campfire. Camper demand for fishing grew.

John, like the coach of a losing team turned champion, beamed with pride and excitement. No longer did he quietly wish he could kick a soccer ball better or sail a forty-foot sailboat. He was the captain of Old Green. His spirit was infectious. Kids who couldn't score goals or hit archery targets were pulling fish out of Lake Hubert.

A Rich Tradition

After that summer, I never saw John again. I often wonder what became of him. He left camp with a new strength and confidence. He planted that same strength in his campers. And John left us with a program rich in the stuff camp is about.

From time to time, a staff member suggests we eliminate fishing from the camp program in lieu of more kayaks, sailboats, or rifles. Fishing, however, has survived. Pulling fish from bodies of water is the most elemental of camp activities. Campers can fish in a majestic lake, a river, or even a mud hole. They can catch fish with expensive rods and reels or with a stick and string. Campers of all sizes, shapes, and abilities find self-confidence and skill mastery when they feel the expectant tug on their line and reel in their big catch, whether a powerful walleyed pike or small sunfish.

The Meaning of Camp

The campers who sailed Lake Hubert's waters with John took from him a feeling those of us at camp can describe but not label. It's the warmth of a campfire, the azure of a lake sunset, the cool of an ice cream cone. It's John smiling at a camper even as the child drops the day's supply of night crawlers into the lake. It's about the new coat of paint on Old Green. This feeling is camp's "product." It's a feeling kids catch at camp and take home at the end of the summer. It's a feeling many of us carry with us for a lifetime.

Matthew J. Miller is a former program director at Camp Lincoln for Boys in northern Minnesota. He currently works as a federal law enforcement officer in Sioux Falls, South Dakota.

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