By Noah Stein
In just two weeks, the buses will pull up to our gate, campers will stream past our Paul Bunyan statue, and head to their cabins to claim their bunk. What comes next will be a month or two of unimaginable fun; high adventure, the strongest of friendships, a reprieve from technology (and Amazon packages!). But, if you’ll indulge me, let’s jump to the end.
The evening before each session closes, we’ll gather around the Council Fire Ring as a camp family one more time. As dusk becomes dark and the bonfire burns to ashes, a collective melancholy will sweep through the pines, sending a chill through the community. Through teary eyes we’ll each gaze into the smoldering cinders and realize that our summer, like the Council Fire itself, has burnt to coals. Our summer will be over.
In what remains of the once-roaring fire, our fitful heap of days and deeds will flash before us: the sights and sounds and stories of our 97th camping season flickering in the flames. We’ll recall that moment we got up on waterskis for the first time, and the view from the top of the climbing wall. We’ll hear the howling laughter that echoes from the Hill to Lorber Point, and loons singing across a quiet Boundary Waters lake. Around the ring, the epic tales of a summertime in the woods, getting dirty, swimming in a lake, driven by summer camp joy, will coalesce in our personal Nebaga-lore forever.
Nothing beats a summer at Camp Nebagamon. But our beautiful grounds are just a vessel for the experience. As we gather around our blazing council fire’s light, the story of the summer will have been written not by the place, but by the people: a second grader leaving home for the first time and two caretakers celebrating their final summers after more than 30 years of service each; a wilderness trip counselor raring for a summer in the woods and an Axeman angling for a spot on Pictured Rocks; a Lumberjack in his final summer at Camp and a first-time Village Director overflowing with ideas to make this summer the best one yet.
The rippling chill through each of us at the Council Fire Ring will tell us that we’ve done summer right; we’ve gone all out, given our best effort in all that we’ve done. When we feel that melancholy, we’ll know that we’ve put ourselves out there, tried new things, made new friends, faced challenges, and overcame them. We’ll know we’ve reached that elusive level of fun impossible to match anywhere but Camp Nebagamon.
We’ll also know that we’ve done it together. We will have arrived as individuals and left as a community. The sadness, the teary eyes, the chill – all are signs that we’re at home with our summertime family, and we’re not quite ready for the magic to end.
And then, as the flames wane to a glow, many of us will stand before the fire, one by one, Keylog in hand, and share a dedication to those in our community who made a difference in our lives. We’ll place logs on the smoldering ashes until our fire roars again… built entirely based on the kindness of the Camp Family.
That will be it.
Ready or not, we’ll drift back to our homes away from this home, carrying with us all of those memories, and friendships, and that feeling of being part of a community that welcomes each of us.
That’s not all. We’ll journey back to where we came from holding our heads higher, carrying all of the confidence we’ve gained along the way.
But that will be then, and this is now… That 2nd grader is still sitting at home wondering what the summer has in store. The wilderness trip counselor is out on Shakedown dialing in her skills. Our council fire has yet to be lit. Right now, the summer of 2026 is just a dream, raw potential. In two weeks, that will change. Two weeks until a summer of exploration, connection, and escape. Two weeks until all of the goodness that serves as fuel for our keylog-reincarnated fire. Two weeks until the World’s Greatest Sleepover. So buckle up, lock in, get stoked…
Two weeks until camp.
But I am resolved to overcome the gap in my familiarity, and so are all the campers and staff who are coming to camp this year. That’s why it works. Everyone just like me who doesn’t know all the names, or perhaps doesn’t know the song lyrics or building locations or tradition on tradition on tradition, comes to camp with the desire to make it work. Our whole community puts in that work, and every single summer for the past 96 summers, it’s worked. So I know I’ll learn the names, and I know that the nervous camper or staff member reading this will look back at the end of the summer with not just a rolodex of friends they can rattle off, but an endless font of warm memories associated with each and every one. I can’t wait to see you at camp soon and start to get to know each other!
16th – Beckett Bernfeld