The Spirit of Ahmek

I have always been a September Camper, never a camper. Indeed, I discovered September Camp quite by accident while I was still in law school. It was 1952, 57 years ago. Bob Hawkes, a fellow law student and former Ahmek Kitchen worker, called me about a possible holiday. “Donald, there’s a place in Algonquin Park in the forest: horses, canoes, sailboats, all you can eat – and girls. And all for $5.00 a day.” I was immediately sold and away we went.

The pines in front of the dining hall were not half the size they are today. Change in the lake and forest is almost imperceptible year by year. That is part of the charm of the place. Still, change is real and it’s cumulative, as it is in us.

In our children, change comes swiftly. They go to camp and each time they return, they are taller, stronger and more confident. For them, life is an adventure to be seized and savoured to the full. It is a time for testing themselves and their relationship to us and others. Here they experience a freedom that simply can’t be theirs at home. There are the long canoe trips, the arduous portages, the camp fires that whisper, “Here let the northwoods spirit kindle fires of friendship.” Life is exciting, challenging and never ending.

In the 1950s, I recall walking to Potter Lake to visit Dr. Pimlott’s wolves. I can recall standing with Dan Gibson in the darkness of the forest, howling into the night air. When a distant pack of wolves replied, it was akin to a spiritual experience.

Cal Wilson 2009

Gradually, I have been overtaken by the change that the years inevitably bring to us all. The camp has changed, but not dramatically so. People have come, stayed a while and then gone on to other things. Some set lessons on how to live one’s life by their demonstrated code of values.

I am now 83, I can no longer walk to Potter. Indeed, getting to the dining hall can be an effort on damp and chilly mornings. But I continue to be as enthralled by this place as I was 57 years ago. I spent my honeymoon here. My five children have been campers. Today, five of our grandchildren are with us. And I am meeting old friends one more time.

Life is slower now and more reflective. Cal Wilson has put it rather succinctly. Forty-five years ago he said, “Camp is a place for shifting the crust of civilization.” A statement that suggests a thirst for challenge and change. Four days ago he said, “Canoe trips serve to iron out the wrinkles in the soul.” I find the second statement much more philosophical than the first. But together they stand like a pair of book ends for the stories of our lives.

Today, as I walk around the camp, I think of all those people who have gone before us and left their mark on this place —

Sally Cameron 2009

Bill Vaughan, a dear friend, photographer and collector of mushroom algae of every kind.

Ian Cameron, who could transform a sailboat into the wings of a gull, and with Sally, leave all challengers in their wake.

Dr. Page, who led so many young people, including my son Kimberly, on his galloping, invigorating early morning rides.

And there were the great young musicians, among them Nelson Dempster, a brilliant cellist with ruffus-coloured beard, jeans held in place by a simple rope, whose large gentle hands could produce some of the world’s greatest music – and there were so many others.

Louise "Wesie" Crawford 2006

Today, however, one person stands out in the minds of many of us. A quiet caring person of deep conviction. A person of grace and dignity. She first came to this camp from Shaker Heights Ohio in 1944. Eventually, she found her life’s work at Toronto’s Hospital for Sick Children where she gained a reputation for providing care for children with hearing problems. Her patients loved her. Doctors respected her. Indeed, she received the Order of Canada for her work. Her quiet self effacing style never changed. In September, her early morning swim in fair weather or foul was a feature of camp life. She was always in the water long before breakfast’s first morning bell. Of course I am referring to Louise Crawford, Wesie.

Sadly, Wesie is no longer able to make the journey from Toronto to this, her favourite place. It would simply be too much for her to bear. This is the first September Camp she has missed in all the years since she chose to make Canada her home, and we miss her. But I know Wesie is thinking of us and I invite you to pause for a moment and think of her, because in her own quiet way, she exemplifies all that is – The Spirit of Ahmek.