CAMP OAKCREST

Nestled into the Uinta mountains of Woodland, Utah sprawls 82 acres of hallowed ground called Camp Oakcrest. A place where I witnessed miracles as a mere 19 year old in the summer of 1994. I was blessed enough to be a counselor there.
Oakcrest is an LDS girls camp for beehives. I also went there as a camper in 1988 and dreamt of the day I might be able to return again. You can read a history of it here, but nothing said about Oakcrest can really tell you anything about the magic of it. If you've been there, you know what I mean. It's so much more than just a camp.
Unlike the traditional 'girls camp' that almost all young women experience church-wide, Oakcrest focuses less on camp certification (though camp skills are certainly learned well) and more on spiritual survival skills. Not in the stuffy old sunday school class type of way, but by stripping down the 'world'. No cell phones, no TV, no radio, no BOYS, and the uglier and dirtier you can get--the better! Through one week jam packed with the obnoxious young-girl type fun, activities ranging from archery, to basketball, to zip lines, to camping out under the stars and eating things from the fire (and the dirt) Oakcrest builds friendships and camaraderie that allows the spirit of the Lord to seep in from every direction. 13 and 14 year old girls are taught the gospel by their *near-peers, the counselors. lives and hearts are changed forever and blessings and miracles abound.

Last night, I went to the 50th anniversary reunion at Oakcrest. Bub was nice enough to go with me, though I know he was bored out of his mind. It really is hard to understand the magic of Oakcrest second hand, and I can't think of anyway to describe it well enough to remedy that.
It was good for my soul to return to a place my spirit feels so connected to.

It looks much different. New cabins, dogwood(the bathroom) remodeled, a new obstacle course and a giant fire-ring. But all the old things still remain. Like the tree hut with it's freezer full of otter-pops. all the fun camp style names for things like the infirmary "Sic-Narf" the graveled trails, and the delicious smell of summer in the air. But most of all, the memories. It is tradition, as a counselor to write your "camp name" on the door of every cabin you stayed in. Back then my camp name was 'SUSHI' we didn't tell the campers our real names until they went home. I met my good friend 'OSKALOOSA' (Nora Jane) there, and we searched through all the cabins looking for our names on the doors. We found Oska's twice, but mine only once. apparently, somewhere around the turn of the century, some of the newer cabin's doors were PAINTED! (gasp!) And I've learned that sharpies fade over time. who knew! In the picture below, I did a quick and sloppy photoshop job just so you could see my name at all. I thought about bringing a sharpie to write my name as Sushi in '08, but forgot, so I couldn't even darken up the old one.
Anyway, I will not continue to bore you with the details. I will suffice it to say that it was nice to go back. Nice to remember a time in life where those particular blessings of the spirit were so abundant. Nice to see familiar faces, a little rounder, a little older. Nice to be grateful for so much. Nice.
Enjoy some pictures of the past.
*the counselors are 19 years old and up. interviewed and screened for the job by a panel of at least 5 women called to members of a committee overseeing the camp. As I mentioned, I saw miracles while working there. It is a special place, with a special spirit and a special purpose.