Camp Dickenson: In A Galax(y) Far, Far Away

Last year I did not get to go to Camp Dickenson because I had plans that weekend. This year was supposed to be the same, but transportation fell apart. In the back of my mind I really did want to go to Camp Dickenson, considering all my friends were going, so I signed up.

Camp Dickenson is a Holston Conference camp in Galax, Virginia. It was a very large property; we stayed at The Farmhouse, which was a massive, slightly creepy farmhouse (wow who would have guessed based on the name I just gave you!) that had a wrap around porch with enough rocking chairs for two families.

I called Hannah on the afternoon of October 5th asking if she could give me a ride down to the Wesley so I could wait on Rebecca and Sephora.

Rebecca was going to be driving Sephora and I. We split up who was riding in what car. Hannah would be driving Ketura and Hallie later. Or, that was the intended plan, anyway.

Hannah picked me up, and we sat in the Wesley parking lot for a while. Sephora got there and joined us in Hannah's car as we waited on Rebecca. Hannah played this surprisingly well-timed version of "Take Me Home, Country Roads" but the words were replaced with the lyrics to "All Star" by Smash Mouth. I texted Rebecca to make sure she was on the way. It turned out, though, she was having AC problems. Once we learned that, Hannah left so she could go continue to pack and Sephora and I went to Cookout. After we made it back, with food in hand, Rebecca had made it! So we loaded up our belongings for the weekend. Rebecca adjusted the bike rack she had on the back of her car before we left.

I talked to Rebecca as I sat in the passenger seat. Sephora was in the back listening to a podcast, sometimes slipping in and out of the conversation. The progression of the sunset faded into a black, dark sky in the reflection of the rear view mirrors of her car.

Directions told us to go one way, but it wasn't right. We traveled a little further down these dark, twist, tiny roads and found ~the~ Farmhouse. We pulled into the gravel driveway and got out to go inside. Not even a minute after being inside, a man greets us in the dark. I don't remember his name, but he talked to Rebecca, Sephora, and I, and he gave us a packet of papers to fill out for the weekend as we stayed there. It also had cleaning information for when we were getting ready to leave. He introduced himself and told us about the camp and where were staying. He said if we had any problems to just give him a call.

We didn't stay at the Farmhouse long. Our next order of business was grocery shopping. We went to Food City a couple miles away and got the necessities. We spent at least an hour there meandering through the aisles to find everything. At one point we split up to get certain items and I couldn't find them. That reminded me of what it felt like to be separated from my mom in a grocery store when I was younger.  It was eerily empty, if you don't count the few employees there stocking shelves or working as cashiers. I asked one for help so I could find the chocolate for s'mores. Turned out it was on the aisle I had already walked past at least 3 times.

After returning to the Farmhouse for the second time, the other half of our group had arrived. They helped put away groceries and we all settled in for the night. We managed to play one game before bed: "creamed". I think it was a game from Rebecca's imagination, but it went like this: three people had to have marshmallow cream on their face. The other three's objective was to throw the marshmallows onto the face of who they paired up with. I guess whoever got all the marshmallows on the other person's face won? But it was more for entertainment than anything. The marshmallows we got were huge, so she ripped them into pieces so we could still have some later for s'mores. Consequently, the goo of them being ripped apart made it stick to your hands and harder to throw. I would make a throwing motion and the marshmallow remnants would either stick to my hand or only be launched a few feet in front of me.

A few fans were set up in the room we all decided to stay in. There were three wooden bunk beds; I slept on the bottom of one. We opened windows and did everything we could to cool off the room that was previously uncomfortably hot. Rebecca led us in prayer and we ended the night discussing our prayer requests.

I woke up abruptly that Saturday at 8:30 a.m.. I had trouble getting to sleep. All of us had alarms set for 9:00, so I had 30 minutes just to just, you know, ponder existence as one days once you wake up with very little sleep. I remember making eye contact with Rebecca. She whispered how much time until she had to wake up. I told her, she acknowledged it, and rolled back over. I braided my hair then stared blankly up at the wooden planks that supported the bunk bed above me until the rest of the group got up.

For breakfast we had bacon, eggs, and cereal. The bacon was served in small pieces so each person could have more. We took one of those white folding tables and a few chairs outside to the porch to eat at.  I am definitely not a morning person, but something about retreats or mission trips give mornings a sort of mystical, surreal feeling to them.

We moved at our own pace. We sat on the porch for a while in the rocking chairs. Hallie read her book, Rebecca worked on her sermon, Hannah and I talked. Sephora joined us and also listened to her podcast and our conversations. We took a walk alongside the New River later, but a lot of the path was either washed away or overgrown. The worship area down there only had the cross standing. We looked at the rock wall and went through some team building exercises on the logs near it. Like the ones where you have to organize yourself by birthday or last name without stepping off the log or talking. They also had a gaga ball pit, so we played a few rounds of that. I learned that gaga ball pits with sand are slightly more dangerous than the one at our church. Sand in your eyes? Would not recommend. Lunch followed shortly after, and then those who were going biking left with the camp representative who lead them. That left Hallie, Sephora, and I at the Farmhouse. Sephora and I hung up hammocks near the rock wall. Hallie sat on the ground on her blanket and read her book out loud to us for a while. I remember her voice drifting in and out of my consciousness.

I was woken up in a jolt by Hallie saying she thought it was going to rain. We hurriedly took them down and ran back to the porch just in time. It started pouring. It only down-poured for thirty minutes or so (I didn't count, but if I had to guess.) It cleared up and huge rainbow spanned across the open field that could be viewed from our porch.

As it stopped, I walked around with Hallie and took a few pictures. We came back and I could see Rebecca cleaning her shoes off with a water hose. The biking bunch had returned with stories of the horror of biking in the rain. Although I did not see them when they immediately got back, they mentioned that every part of them was seeping in water and mud. Big yikes. But they cleaned up, some took naps.

Rebecca and I sat up tables so we could paint. We taped paper towels down on the table to keep from getting paint everywhere. Canvases were laid out in front of each chair, paint brushes dispersed. Each person got to work. Almost out of impulse, I just started painting. Most everyone else was looking up ideas of what to do, but for some reason I just wanted to get started. Our painting sessions was halted by dinnertime.

We cut veggies and wrapped them in tinfoil for hobo patties. That gave me flashbacks to when we used to do that at New Frontiers before mission trips to Marks, Mississippi. Rebecca wrote each person's name in sharpie on each tinfoil outer layer covering the patty. We cooked them in a fireplace (or pit? Not sure what the proper terminology would be in this case) that was in the pavilion only a few steps from where were staying. We played the hand game and a variety of other games while waited for them to cook. And of course, after that we had s'mores. The tables at this pavilion were, er, weird in the fact if you put enough pressure on one side, it would "flip". I don't know how else to describe it except it would like shift upwards then go back into place. So we had that problem a few times.

I finished painting early and took a shower. Ketura fishtail braided my hair after I got out, which was so relaxing. She also did such an amazing job, I never wanted to take it down. We played card games and went to sleep once more.

Sunday morning I woke up early again. My initial instinct was to start packing my things, knowing later I would not feel motivated to. We ate breakfast and put away the table and chairs we brought out there. We kind of self-designated cleaning duties to get the Farmhouse back in order. Cleaned bathrooms, mopped, swept, put fans back in closets, lowered the thermostat, loaded our stuff up, took trash out, etc. Hannah's car left a little bit earlier than we did. I did one last sweep of our living space for the weekend, and we were on the way back to Johnson City.

We went through Rebecca's CD's in her car and listened to almost all of them that she had loaded in there.

We made it back and Rebecca dropped me off at the condo. I unpacked and re-assimilated to life as an ETSU student, despite wanting to exist in the natural and peaceful state of Camp Dickenson for a while. (Maybe not forever, I enjoy working wifi...)

I think some of my favorite parts of the weekend were the beautiful visuals in nature. The low-hanging clouds shrouded the mountain peaks, leaves fluttered off the trees so slowly and beautifully. The clouds and blue sky reflected on the puddles of water across the flooded flatland. The sound of the rain pattering against the tin roof. Hallie's voice telling me stories of a woman hiking the PCT.

Even though part of me wanted to be at the Ed Sheeran concert back home that I couldn't find a ride home for, I knew this was the medicine I needed. I needed some time with my friends to recharge and just feel the peace that nature brings. I am so thankful I got the chance to go and wouldn't trade it for the world. I am a little late writing this, but I wanted to get this written so I could describe it as accurately as possible. Don't want to forget. :)

Love always,
Allison