Shared by Emma Bundy, Staff Director, Former Camper & Counselor

Looking across the valley, I can see Gates Mountain shrouded in smoke. Behind that veil of thick smoke I know that fire has begun to creep down the hill. I’ve seen it glowing at night; growing as it encounters old, tired trees and brittle brush and Manzanita. I remember the aching steps I took on dusty, steep switchbacks to write my name in the ledger on that hill. In the past few years, campers have flocked to Gates as a conquest. They proudly count how many times they can climb the mountain and how fast they can reach its summit. This summer, an entire group of campers hiked it twice in 24 hours. One camper made it from the base to the summit it 27 minutes. For me, each climb is a struggle – a worthwhile one, but a struggle nonetheless.

I also remember a few months ago, when I stood on Inspiration Point, surrounded by my family, friends, platform mates, co-counselors and colleagues, and married my best friend Sam – a fellow counselor – in front of this mountain. We were lucky enough to spend an incredible summer here this year, surrounded by exceptional people in this amazing place that somehow has the unique ability to both change and stay the same. So many people remark on how much the same the Ranch feels when they return after many years away. Of course, it is always changing.  I think people are referring to the way that they feel when they’re here and I know what they mean.

Personally, I’ve come a long way from that first postcard home to my parents, which read:

Dear Mom and Dad,

On the bus ride I threw up. I am on a different platform than Alex and Sam. So far camp isn’t so good.

Love,

Emma

Just a few days later, I followed up with:

Dear Mom and Dad,

Thanks for writing to me so much! I’m feeling really happy – got to go.

Em

I’m not sure I ever wrote another letter from camp.

Over the past three weeks, with fires surrounding much of Trinity County and smoke clouding the views I’ve become so attached to, I’ve taken extra time to reflect on this summer and each of the summers I’ve spent at Camp since I arrived as a nauseous nine-year-old almost twenty years ago. Each year that I spend here I’m amazed by how generations of campers seem to be moved by the same things that moved me when I was younger.

I felt this acutely just a few weeks ago, on my final day with our incredible staff, when we all took the silent walk to Inspiration Point for a final Vespers. The smoky, orange sun shined upon us and the view was limited to just the people in our circle. I cried (something that will not be surprising for those of you who know me) at the love and devotion this group of young people has shown to this place and to each other. They threw themselves into this summer with reckless abandon and sent home hundreds of exhausted but exhilarated campers. At the end of the summer, they braved the smoke in the hopes that we would be able to continue, and when we couldn’t they stuck together and took care of one another.

I am often overwhelmed by how lucky I feel to know this place and to know the people who have built it and who call it home – whether for a lifetime or for a few weeks. I am disappointed that we ended our summer shrouded in smoke and surrounded by the threat of fire. I know that feeling is shared by the hundreds of people who had marked their calendars to come for fourth session, family camp, and the 85^th reunion. Still, I know that our camp community is nothing if not resilient. Because we all share in this loss, we will emerge with an even stronger sense of why our annual, sporadic or irregular visits to this place are important.

In the past few days, the smoke has cleared some and our view of Gates Mountain has returned. I’ve begun to look forward to climbing Gates next year and discovering what the fire has left. Perhaps our notebook will survive the blaze, tucked safely in its ammo can under a Manzanita bush. Maybe we will start all over again. Either way, it will be an adventure.