What It Meant to Me to Camp at Cedar Pond
by Emily Angell
Because I am the newest one to The Nature Place, I’m also the last one of us to understand the gift of camping at Cedar Pond. In September, Jason organized a trip for the four of us year round staff to camp there for a couple of nights. So, in an effort to practice what we preach, we locked up the office and headed out for an experience.
I woke up much later than I normally do on that first morning of our trip to Cedar Pond. But then again, I had stayed up late, laughing and chatting around the fire with Ricky, Scott, and Jason.
As I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes at our beautiful campsite, I felt thankful. I love camping, and this was a chance to connect with colleagues and explore the natural wonder of the lake and surrounding area that is usually enjoyed by our campers. If I’m honest, I was also selfishly excited because I can never find enough excuses to explore a new trail.
As I wandered around, looking at the water with a mug of cold brew in hand, it occurred to me that I felt the happiness that only accompanies doing things outside with people who bring joy to my life. Within the first week of working with these humans, I knew they were special. Now, four months and a summer of camp later, I’d get to know them a little bit better outside of the office.
Upon arriving Tuesday afternoon, we unloaded the canoes and set up camp. Once we were settled, we ventured out on our first paddling excursion as a team. Almost immediately, Jason and I both tried to steer the canoe. I quickly deferred to Jason’s canoeing experience, and pivoted my contribution to that of creating momentum. That’s the thing about adventures, how quickly you learn to work as a team.
With the menu Jason had planned in advance, that evening was a culinary delight. Cooking over hot coals and using a camp stove were both novel. The smells, the process of cooking together, and eventually the taste of the food made it feel like home. It was a reminder that the most basic things can provide the most meaningful memories. Afterward, we kept the fire going. There’s something inherently calming about gathering around a fire near a beautiful body of water with the moon in the sky. And because it was a campfire built by Scott, it was special. (Scott is a campfire artist.) At one point in the evening, I grabbed my guitar and sat by the water to noodle on it. It felt good to just play for fun, sitting on a rock in the moonlight with a crackling fire behind me. A few murmurs of approval from my colleagues didn’t hurt either.
The next day I ventured out to explore some trails at Harriman. I found a looped route that briefly traverses the Appalachian Trail. Though I don’t live too far from the AT, I’d never been on it. To connect with the trail and then frolic along it (yes, frolic is the correct word) was an epic experience knowing the lore that surrounds the route. When I’m out running through the woods, I feel calm and happy, being in the moment.
Scott and I paddled together the second day to what is now my favorite spot at Cedar Pond where the water is still, and the lily pads are abundant. Scott steered us under a fallen pine tree, where we picked sap-covered pinecones off the tree to smell. The four of us sat in our two canoes in the stillness, with the sun on our faces, listening to the birds and the wind. During our still-hunting, a damselfly landed on my shoulder. I looked back when it took off and saw that another one landed on Scott’s hand as he held it up. It was looking him right in the eyes.
There’s a unique magic in laughter. And that second night, we experienced that magic together in earnest. The kind of laughs that start with something silly (like a game of Uno we think is about to end and then goes gloriously off the rails for an hour) and then the joke builds every time the silly thing is recalled. By the end of the evening, after a couple of hours of card games and cracking jokes, my stomach hurt from the nonstop laughs.
On Thursday morning, I didn’t feel as compelled to drag myself from the tent, knowing we would be packing up soon. But unlike the previous day’s clear skies and sunshine, the day we left was cool and cloudy, which made it just a little easier to break down camp. We said our goodbyes, strapped the canoes to the van, and headed back to the office.
In the hustle and bustle of our modern lives, we often forget the profound impact that the simplest things like nature, laughter, food, movement, and spending time with good people can have on our sense of self and our relationships with others. This trip opened my eyes to what our campers are able to take part in.
So in an effort to sum this all up: What it meant to me to camp at Cedar Pond was an opportunity to unplug from the daily routine, bask in the camaraderie of a shared experience, and find joy in simple things.