I come to camp to stamp and stomp and sing and ski and live - loudly.

Loudly, because in these trees, within these waters and among this air exist friendships so strong they can't be whispered... and know not when to wane or weaken.

Living loudly means loving where you are and whom you're with... and passing this over the soft summer splash of the Swift River.

Camp is a song which is sung swimming, skiing, sailing, and sliding... and silence and sadness enters only when the words fall far from me... It's called the 18th of August reality.

My joy is my ability to steal these summer feelings and store them like blankets in a cedar chest... clean, warm, and ready to make me smile.

When I leave the loud living... I often long to hear the scream of the silent friendly fire.

Colin McKaig- (Tohko 89)