A Letter to Camp Jones Gulch

Dear Camp Jones Gulch,
I miss you already. I miss waking up to the sound of the trees moving in the wind and the birds chirping in those trees. I miss going to bed after the heat of a fire built too big for the pit. I miss camp food- Taco Tuesday with it's homemade salsa, the pasta on Meatless Wednesday, and even (sort of) the simplicity of chicken nugget day. I miss hiking everywhere, but specifically I miss the spot up Coyote Hill where the valley is spread out in front of you and camp is invisible but still audible. I will remember that view painted in the dying sunlight.
We had some beautiful times, Jones Gulch. I sang camp songs to you while trimming that oak by the archery range. The team relaxed in the sunlight and dug their fingers into soft grass after a long day of work. We laughed when Lois beat everyone at tetherball, and that laughter made you shrug and smile and settle around us a little tighter. We walked all your ridges, the main road of your spine and the smaller trails like limbs and fingers. We healed you. We found the places that were damaged and we made you strong again.
I'm still not too happy about that tree that nearly fell on us, but I forgive you. It is good to remember our mortality. It is good to remember that you are not human, that you are wild and lawless and that we just find our small ways to tame you, to bend you but not break you.
I think we all found something to wonder about this last month. Whether it was the power of trees or the bite of a lizard or the nature of stars. Thank you for that, Jones Gulch. We hated to say goodbye.
McKinley

 

 

 

 

California Sunshine

Blue 1 is now in La Honda, California, working at YMCA Camp Jones Gulch for the month of April. We'll be blazing trails, maintaining the ropes course, and installing water bars and steps on current trails. It's been just four days and I already love it here. On our first day at Jones Gulch our supervisor, Erik, took us on a tour of the camp. Half of camp is currently occupied by a local Outdoor School program for sixth graders, and in two weeks it will be at capacity with over four hundred students and staff.
So far we've leveled and widened a severely washed out and narrow trail and added steps to another. We also moved about 40 huge railroad ties that were lining a path. Each log was probably a hundred pounds, and had to be carried by at least two people. I have bruised hips now from the wood bouncing against me as we walked. Those logs will but cut in to thirds and then reused as steps for other trails.
We went hiking for PT the other day, starting out down the road toward a path that Erik recommended. Dylan and I found another trail and decided to break off from the group to follow it. We climbed up along a ridge and eventually emerged out of the canopy of redwoods and into the afternoon sun. I could see for miles, past hill after rolling hill. Standing up there with the sun bearing down and a breeze cooling my sweaty face was the most incredible I've felt in a while.
This year has certainly had its ups and downs and hard times, but seeing all of it in the light of the approaching summer puts things in perspective. These last four months of AmeriCorps are going to be the best yet. I can feel it.