Camp Envy/Out of Isolation 2020

Published on by Kathy Baker Category: Blog, Camp Envy, Maqua After Camp, Traditions

Michigan is finally opening their doors after long months of quarantine from Covid-19. The beautiful spring flowers seem to be celebrating by opening their blooms and showing us all is well. Social distancing and masks still seem to be the norm, especially for the small family businesses in Hale, but I feel fortunate to enjoy two rural areas to call home, with fewer cases of the virus.

Our kids and grandkids had it the roughest, teaching and working from home, plus agonizing through two successful emergency surgeries for one family. With all the time at home eating up vacation time and loss of income, we won’t have the same amount of family visiting this summer. Our eldest grandson, Keegan, drove up with us to help open up and begin the first of many projects with my husband. A new clapboard ceiling is being installed after a leak on our roof ruined our previous installation. (The porch has an addition from the original to accommodate all the historical tables and benches for our entertaining.)

Our Adirondack chairs, that survived a few Florida hurricanes, received a new coat of paint, but my favorites are the old heavy metal lawn chairs. Years ago I had them sandblasted and powder coated, and they look like new. Does anyone remember them at camp? They were beige and rusting and looked beyond repair, but these heavy chairs are great on the lawn. We sit out there at twilight until the mosquitoes chase us inside.

Our campfires and outdoor seating areas will be the new summer meeting spots. The residents of Maqua are predominately retired folks with underlying conditions and our hearts want to hug and socialize, but our heads know that if we want to keep ourselves and family visitors safe, we need to continue to distance. The original spot for the campfire pit is the most used, but my sons built a small one for us on the lodge lawn, so young mothers could hear their toddlers inside and still enjoy a campfire.

Thank heavens for our pontoon boats, where we can dock side by side, converse and float on Loon Lake, We have one baby Loon to watch this summer, but the resident Eagle enjoys tormenting Mama and baby. Our boat was in for new upholstery, console and motor, but the businesses are just opening up and work loads are heavy, so we are praying it is here before our son and family arrives for the July 4th festivities and boat parade. The highlight of every sunset cruise is spotting the Loons, but we pray the geese don’t stop and “drop” on our decks.

Clean-up of the surrounding property is a never-ending project, but beach and boathouse area are all weeded. The lake had a high water level this past winter, so erosion is evident, and it’s pine pollen season, so there is a fine yellow powder dusting on everything. It is nice to sit on our boats and deck area and watch life go by, but many of our porches are still under tarps until the pollen eases. To all the previous campers and staff, we wish you a happy summer outside!

Camping Indoors

Published on by Kathy Baker Category: Blog, Camp Influences

Greetings to all those in isolation during the COVID-19 Pandemic! During these days of indoor “camping” and social distancing, I cannot help but wonder if the skills you learned at Camp Maqua are helping you during these times. Surely, there are more stories to be told of survival skills and talents of those years that you could share? What are you doing to retain your sanity?

My husband and I are living a smaller footprint here in Florida, having sold our course  and our larger home. The guest house is perfect for the two of us and it is situated a mile from the Peace River, where we can watch the sunset with others. (Six feet apart, of course!) We have plenty of projects to keep us busy, from painting to gardening. We get out every day to either ride our bikes or walk and the weather has been unseasonably warm. At the end of the day, we sit on our new deck, eating dinner and relaxing with the sound of cows, turkeys and a braying donkey next door. Life is good and so far, we are healthy.

We had just visited all four of our children, here in Florida and in California, before the country went on lock-down. How wonderful it is not to be deprived of seeing our grandchildren in this time of social media. FaceTiming and Skyping brings them into our house without contact. We have tremendous empathy for the three families with young ones, home from school. Two of the daughter-in-laws are teachers and one has to begin virtual teaching next week, with four-year-old twins and an eight-year old. One has two toddlers in San Francisco and the weather has not been cooperating for them to burn off extra energy from being house-bound.

Although I was never a camper at Maqua, my Burningman experience this past summer taught me how to live very simply for six days. My daughter and husband did all the shopping ahead of time, and it was amazing to watch the meals appear from a desert kitchen on a two-burner cook stove. The shower utilized gray water from the ice in the coolers, and when we did not use the porta-potties, we used our “She-Pee” portable urinal in our tent. We stayed hydrated with water from our camel-backs and ate very sparingly. We conserved energy during the day, while sitting under shade structures. I never felt like I was in survival mode, because I had everything I needed, but the heat and harsh desert conditions were like nothing I had ever experienced.

The most amazing part of the whole Burningman experience for me was experiencing the ten principles practiced by all those who attended. (Radical inclusion, gifting, decommodificatios, radical self-reliance, radical self-expression, communal effort, leaving no trace, participation and immediacy.) No matter which camp I walked or biked to– someone greeted me, gifted me, fed me, offered me a drink or hugs. This temporary city in the middle of the Black Rock desert made me understand what I could live without. Possessions, jobs and personalities did not mean a thing. No-one cared who you were or what you wore. People mattered.

In 2004 we experienced four hurricanes–Charley, Jeanne, Frances and Ivan. Charley took out our 14,000 sq. ft. clubhouse, 1,000 trees on our 36-hole course, five out-buildings, and blew the pump on one course, which we lost. The other three finished us off.  It took six weeks to get the trees off the course and open the doors again, but life was never the same. We had a mobile kitchen and operated from a huge tent until moving back into the original 1971 building. Our home was damaged, but we could offer refuge in our makeshift kitchen by stretching salvaged screening around our carport, decked out with the ice-machine and commercial grill that survived.

For weeks we worked 12 hours a day and at the end of the day, ate the leftovers from the club, drank the wine and beer and shared all with neighbors. What we gained was strength, humor, camaraderie with neighbors and help from volunteers who came from hours away to help us. We had no power for 15 days. Generators powered the fridge and the washing machine. I hung laundry out for four families in 95 degree heat, but others shared their pools and helped us pick up debris. There was such great community and goodwill from this sharing and caring. People mattered.

When this whole lockdown is over, I believe the world will be different. Kids are using their imaginations. Parents are practicing patience. Families are eating dinners together and playing games. Medicine is being practiced tele-medically. Businesses are learning new methods of service. Socializing has new meaning with online parties and social media has kept us laughing with humor during dark times. People are coming together in community to help those in need, because people matter.

Those who lose their jobs will have life-style changes they never anticipated. I have no illusions that our children will be paying the price financially for a long time, and that our retirement will also be affected. But, as an eternal optimist, I believe there will be silver linings to these dark clouds and that the world will reinvent itself. Faith, family, friends and hope is my wish for all of you.

Happy New Year!

Published on by Kathy Baker Category: Blog, Maqua After Camp

I “kinda” miss those fun posts and stories from all my Maqua girls. My camping experiences at Burningman were posted after the fact. (Post camping, but the memories were vivid.) Once the stories from campers and staff ended, I probably could have kept on going with interviews from other women, but as one camper so aptly stated, “YOU HAVE TO STOP SOMEWHERE!” (She was so eager for the book to come out and her name will remain a secret–Nancy, you know who you are.)

I am on Facebook with so many of the girls I interviewed and many have become such great friends. This week Randi Wynne-Parry will visit me in Florida. It is so fun meeting the women who left their joy in the walls of my summer home, for I believe I can still hear their voices. The stories continue and the relationships evolve. All of you have brought a wonderful dimension to my life. There were some who were annoyed at me for their own reasons, but as my editor said, “Where there is controversy, there is readership”, so I accepted the good with the bad.

Having sold our golf business and home in Florida, life has become a simpler life and I am enjoying it. We are living in our guest house for the time being and enjoying the ability to lock it and leave to visit family and friends. Soon, our Michigan golf course will be a business of the past. Retirement has been lovely! My husband and I worked together for over 45 years and still enjoy being together, so I guess that makes us a rare breed of marriage material.

This past summer was a family summer. Our children grew up on Loon Lake in the lodge with mixed feelings of leaving their friends in Florida for the entire summer. Now that they are grown with families of their own, they wonder why their appreciation was not greater. We, as parents, are grateful that they realize what a treasure this little slice of heaven in Hale is. We managed to get 99% of our brood together for one day this summer, but many of them spent a month. Many new memories were made with our children and grandchildren.

Every once in a while I get a message from a previous camper who will be passing through the area, wondering if they can stop to say hello. I am always happy to host a little tour, but only if they promise to bring me a slice of their happy memories of summers at Camp Maqua.

I wish you and yours the best in 2020. Thank you for always sharing your memories of this happy place!

Camp Envy–Closing up

Published on by Kathy Baker Category: Blog, Maqua After Camp

I have mixed reactions this time of the year. I love the autumn in Michigan and with my newly-retired husband by my side all summer, we have decided to visit the fall color in the upper peninsula, which is a first for us both. But, with the temperatures getting colder and the lodge with no heat, it means time to pack up and head south. The porch and lawn furniture have to be cleaned; linens laundered and stored; food emptied from the pantry and fridge; screens covered to keep the snow from damaging the floors; bulbs planted and covered and water shut off to keep the pipes from freezing.

The upper dormers and windows, plus the tall east and west sides of the building were painted last year. This summer my hubby finished the rest, with the help of his cousins’ from Texas, who took time out of their vacation to scrape and paint some trim. The project list will never run out, as the roof leaked this summer and ruined our front porch ceiling. “Next summer”, says he–next summer’s project to install new wood ceilings and fans with lights for the hot summer nights playing Euchre.

The leaves are turning color and dropping on the trail of our morning walks. All the foliage is turning brown. By the lake, seaweed is washing up to shore and with very little boat traffic or children swimming, the water is crystal clear. We have chores to do to in the boathouse with all the inflatables and toys and picnic tables to store for the winter. The boat will be taken out of the water and refurbished with new seats for next summer’s fun.

One of my neighbors gave me an old camp bench, presumably used in the craft hut with the interior colored with paint spills. The original rusty hinges are still on the lid, which lifts up. I bleached the old wood and gave it a new look with chalkboard paint to store my grandkids’ crafts and supplies. Our sons’ also built a fire pit on the front lawn, so the younger kids could be heard when the adults are still up. Along with little projects like this, the garden was hacked back to ready for the snow and the totem pole will be stored. Hut one is cleaned, wood ants are sprayed and it is locked up to keep the hunters from using it as a deer blind. Goodbye summer, hello winter. See you in the spring.

 

 

Silver Burners–Saying Goodbye

Published on by Kathy Baker Category: Camping Adventures @ Burningman

My little buddy and I were surprised on the last day to feel extremely sad to be leaving port-a-johns, dust, extreme heat and air mattresses behind. We felt bad that we could not set up our camp “Nailed It’ with Brooke, Gage and their friends. They worked tremendously hard to make sure the camp was comfortable and that we had cooling when we needed it and a shower! Our food was delicious, the beverages never ended and the conversations were amazing. Thankfully, we had a chance to help strike camp with our friends and family to ease the guilt and work through our emotions. We cleaned our shiftpod, deflated our mattresses and squeezed our suitcases shut. Anything we did not want to carry back home went back into tubs and ferried home by Brooke and Gage.

Most burners earn a Playa name. We had none until the last day–“Moop” and “Fluff”. MOOP means matter out of place and not a single string, sequin, ribbon, crumb, or item not found on the desert floor is allowed after Burningman is over, and if you own a metal detector, it is even more complete! So, we combed the grid by foot for hours, making sure nothing was left behind. It was akin to a search party looking for a lost child. Inch by inch we walked, scouring for moop. The fluffing, which is hand-raking, was done by Brooke after the entire camp was packed up and ready to go.

Brooke drove us to the bus depot early, hoping we could catch an earlier Burner Bus to Reno. We stood in the blazing sun for about a half-hour in the standby line and caught an earlier bus. We sat in the very back with great legroom, but halfway into the journey, we wondered why the A/C was not on. We were dying of the closed-in, stifling heat of bodies on a full bus. Burners were fanning themselves and groaning.

There was no running water in the only bathroom on the bus, but someone had left their bottle of water. When they did not return, Teri poured the water onto two neckerchiefs and we sighed a breath of slight relief. We were afraid to empty the water we had in our camelbacks after hearing nightmare stories of hours in line to exit the desert. Luckily, we had a fast lane for buses only, and the A/C was turned on once the dust would not enter the air ductwork of the bus. We napped like babies.

Dusty burners filed off the bus, with some immediately hopping onto their flights in Reno airport. Huge plastic bags were wrapped around the dusty luggage, so dust would not clog up the luggage conveyor belts. Giant boxes were outside to empty any possessions or illegal substances not wanted on the flights. We had arranged to spend the night at Harrah’s in Reno, so we caught a Lyft to our hotel to shower up and rest up before our red-eye flight the following day.

That first shower was Heaven, but our hair was like straw, our cuticles had suffered and we were bloated. It took two days for us to feel somewhat normal, but we dressed in clean clothes to eat dinner and cheered to our survival with cold glasses of Chardonnay. Ah, back to the real world. We crashed early and slept like babies.

The following day, we did not want to even put our feet on the ground, but hungry girls’ gotta eat and we rose to take showers. There was no cold water, steam was coming out of the toilet and the water was so scalding that we had to change rooms. Dragging our dusty luggage four rooms down the hall, we decided to pay for another day and relax in our rooms. It was worth it. We joined Brooke and Gage and treated them to a great dinner at the resort we should have stayed. (Peppermill)

Our flight was not until 11:30, but we went to the airport early and I passed my last journal around to obvious dusty burners waiting for their flights. “What brings you to Burningman?” was the question and I met new people with great answers for a future blog. What a great time we had. We had to decompress at home and catch up on sleep. We washed all our clothes in Vinegar to remove the alkaline dust. My decision to blog my stories based on “not chewing my cabbage twice”. How many times can I tell this story? My friends and family ask, “what was the best part of it all?” IT WAS ALL GREAT AND I WOULD DO IT AGAIN IN A HEARTBEAT!

Silver Burners–Acting Like Kids

Published on by Kathy Baker Category: Camping Adventures @ Burningman

I wasn’t expecting a gigantic playground of art I could climb or a hallucinogenic Dr. Suess movie, nor was I expecting A Mad Max movie, but it was all that and more in my desert experience. The first night of my arrival, Gage and Brooke took me to the Thunderdome, which was straight out of the movie “Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome” (1985). A huge geodesic dome, housing three-round fights between two people (both sexes) battling each other with huge soft bats. The gladiators were strapped into harnesses that swing from the ceiling, while assistants on the ground pushed the harness/swings with great force toward their opponents. The crowds climbed up the sides chanting, cheering and jeering. It reminded me of the boxing gloves I bought for my sons when they were preteens, so they could duke it out. What a spectacle!

My two daughters were in their element, even with me there. Dawn, as a teen, was funnier than any Saturday Night Live script when she was around her cousin Patrick. Her role as a business owner in the city of San Francisco and as a late-in-life Mom of two has been taken seriously, but letting loose is tough. I saw my playful fun-loving daughter one day, as she used my handicap flag to take the car deep into the Playa to view more art. We pulled up to a faux desert gas station and she decided to get out and pretend to pump gas. “You’re on the wrong side! Turn around and pull your tank to this side,” yelled some burner, who was getting a kick out of the car as part of the scene. He filled us up with pretend gad and we roared.

Brooke and I attended a “Stitch n’ Bitch” session in a camp near ours one afternoon. The camp had two sewing machines set up; a basket filled with ribbons, buttons, and doo-dads to decorate outfits and plenty of advice and help. Men and women were sitting on cushions cutting, sewing and embellishing shirts, hats, and outfits. Brooke had a long, beautiful taupe satin skirt, a sequined dress in a similar color and a beige crocheted sweater. In my past life, I would have set myself up at the sewing machine and whipped her creation into a new one, but my fractured wrist was in a brace. I contented myself with design details and she left with a bustled creation of adorable.

Her happy place is in the kitchen and she whipped up some great meals for anyone passing our camp. On the night before camp closed up, Brooke emptied her coolers of homemade soups, chili, hot dogs and Girl Scout cookies. Strangers were pulled in to enjoy “real food” and there were delightful conversations with burners of all ages from all over the world.

I found out where Dawn felt in her element on the day she and I biked out to the Playa to see more art. The wind was blowing, as we rode for miles. I was happy to have my goggles and scarf to cover my face, but never once thought to myself that I desired to be anywhere else. “Mom, this is my happy place—just riding my bike on the Playa to see the art, not talking to anyone.” (She was the impetus for our visit to both the sunrise and sunset, which were spectacular.) I loved the day and she snapped photos of me hugging a bee/wasp, which in real life I am deathly allergic.

Teri and I were like kids everywhere we wandered. She jumped on the front of the art car seat and switched the toggle switch and found out that Jim’s seat vibrated. We laughed at the clothes we brought that would have transformed us into creatures of fantasy, but never wore them. (The tutus did make nice decor hanging from our shiftpod.) We tried not to stare but cracked up at the nude marathon runners racing around the Esplanade with all parts bouncing. We loved the middle of the road spritzers that sprayed us as we biked by and the visits to the ice tent to retrieve ice, so we could hug on bags of cold ice.

I will forever be grateful to my wonderful daughters and husbands. They encouraged me, made it possible to be there, and enjoyed my childlike glee as I enjoyed my first “burn” and I enjoyed seeing them in their element outside their normal lives.