I've had the chance to travel plenty in my time, but one of my favorite places on Earth won't be found on any "must-see" lists. Even though it's known to only a small community of people, I think anyone who had the chance to see it would agree that it was one of the most beautiful places in the world. It didn't hurt that such a place was tied to one of my fondest memories, either.
During my college years and early twenties, I spent my summers as a Camp Counselor at a sleepaway camp nestled amongst the Carolina foothills. The camp itself was what you would expect: a large lake where the campers would swim and canoe, wooden cabins, an amphitheater, and a wealth of activities for the privileged children who attended the camp year after year. I was quite fond of the place, especially the people I grew close to, but one area of the camp held a special place in my heart.
Located a short hike away from the camp proper was a second lake. If it had a real name I never learned it, as the campers and counselors alike just referred to it as the "New Lake". The lake itself wasn't large, perhaps a few acres. A trail from the camp wrapped around it's perimeter, and the trails through the woods around it led to various campsites and overlooks the camp used for overnight trips and day hikes. The edge of the lake closest to camp was flat and lined in parts with beach, while the far side butted up against rock wall, some of which was quite high. There was a zip-line into the lake from the ledge of one of the rock walls that was a popular attraction for both the campers and staff. Rumor (more like camp legend I suppose) amongst the male campers and staff was that it was a rite of passage for the girl campers to ride the zip line topless, or nude if you believed some people.
But as much as all of this added to the beauty and mystique of the New Lake, none of those were why it became one of my favorite places in the world. On the near shore jutting out into the lake was a long white dock. The end of the dock extended almost to the middle of the lake, and was lined sporadically with ladders. On a clear day, the perfectly still lake would reflect everything around it. If you sat on the dock, it was like you were surrounded by the trees and the sky. It was even more amazing at night. The mirror-like surface reflected every star, and if the moon was full it bathed the whole scene in a soft blue glow.
Unless a camp group was spending the day there, it was always blissfully silent at the lake. The occasional chirp or song of a bird would break the silence, but it was almost as if it were a sacred place they knew to stay away from. You could have gone back in time for all you knew, as it seemed like there were never any planes or helicopters flying overhead. Nighttime was even more serene, and you could feel the darkness closing in on you. Crickets would sometimes sing, but like the birds they seemed to avoid it.
I discovered the lake during my first summer as a counselor. Our group had gone camping and spent some time on the lake while we were out there. A few days later, after a stressful day, I found myself hiking there, not knowing why exactly. I had walked out onto the dock and laid down on my back. The starry sky engulfed me and the silence heightened my senses. I could hear the faint lapping of water against the dock and the gentle sounds of wind blowing through the trees. My mind felt at ease, and when I finally got up to walk back to my cabin I felt whole and renewed again. Ever since that night, I had returned here often, always by myself, when I needed some peace and tranquility.
So, it came to be that two years later I was back out on the dock, laying down on a towel I had brought, staring up at the stars. The moon was full, and I could see everything almost as clearly as if the sun were out and I was looking at the picture through a blue filter. At first I just sat and let the silence surround me, and then I lay down on the towel and slipped my headphones over my ears, hitting play on my CD player and starting a mix of acoustic guitar songs a friend had burned for me. The first chords hit, and I drifted away into my own thoughts.
I had arrived at the lake earlier than normal that night. My co-counselor and best friend Jeff had seen the stress on my face while we were putting our campers down to bed. "Go man, I got this. Really, go, it's been a long day. I can handle this." Jeff had insisted, and I thanked him, grabbed my Discman and towel, and headed up the trail. Jeff was a good guy. We worked well together and always knew when the other needed some time away. We had been paired together halfway through my first summer when my first co-counselor quit, and had been inseparable since.
It really had been a long day. Jeff and I had been woken up early by the sound of retching; one of our boys had gotten sick on the floor. While Jeff took him to the clinic, I cleaned up and got the other boys ready for breakfast. Our group had a new Unit Leader this summer who was overseeing the entire Pioneer Camper section. The campers in our unit were late Elementary School to Early Middle School age and our area consisted of sixteen cabins in total: eight boy cabins and eight girl cabins. The new Unit Leader was in his first summer at the camp and had brought his own ideas about how things should be run. He was constantly riding the counselors, and his act had already grown stale two weeks into the summer. For whatever reason, he had been especially hard on Jeff and me, often assigning us extra duties and work while criticizing our methods. That morning he had made our cabin stay after breakfast for cleanup and then failed our cabin's inspection after we had raced back to clean it up before the campers had to go to their first activities of the day, making us re-do the entire thing after ripping the sheets from the bunks and knocking things off the shelves he felt weren't organized enough.
The day had only gotten longer from there. Some time after lunch, the emergency siren had sounded. Jeff watched our cabin as I scrambled as fast as I could to the lake. The siren only sounded if a camper came up missing during a swim session, where they did buddy check counts every several minutes. If the siren rang, all available counselors had to report to the swimming area as quickly as possible to do a shallow water search, where we stood shoulder to shoulder, sweeping with our feet and counting out after each sweep. When this came up empty, I grabbed my team and we began a deep-water search. I had been designated as a search team leader as I was a strong swimmer had had been lifeguard certified. My boat had just finished searching a sector of the lake, with each dive dreading the thought of finding a limp, lifeless body, when the all-clear siren rang. We returned to shore to find out that unbeknownst to her partner, the missing little girl had left the swimming area to go back to her cabin for something. As we secured our boat I saw the little girl weeping as the camp director and her unit leader, both looking very stern, chewed her out for not following the rules.
