SWIMMING WITH SNIPES

Having two older brothers made Boy Scouts a lot easier. I knew things, like if the older boys wanted to take the younger boys on a snipe hunt, it was just an initiation ritual which involved hazing. I also knew if you were tasked with finding a left handed screw driver, you were broadcasting to the world that you were an ignorant newbie. You might as well just walk around with a “kick me” note taped to your butt. So, when I went to summer camp, I thought I was pretty savvy and had my wits about me.

I’d watched my brother’s prepare for camp, so I knew all the necessary gear to pack. I’d been practicing with my hatchet and was anxious to earn my “tote’n chip” badge. I thought I was all set, the quintessential Boy Scout putting into practice the “Be Prepared” motto. Then we got to camp . . .

The place was huge. Once we passed the gates, it took us half an hour to drive the dirt roads and arrive at our campsite. Then, the leaders ushered us into our cabin and assigned bunks. I got stuck with a top bunk that looked so high I thought clouds were forming around it.

Then they showed us the latrine. It had a line of sinks along one wall. Along the other was a line of toilets and troughs of urinals, with no walls separating any of them. I mean, it’s one thing to stand at a urinal with other guys and do your business, but if you did “number 2,” you literally had to squat in front of everybody and their brother! And the showers were just one big room of spigots. Evidently the word “privy” was not related to the word “privacy.”

After stowing our gear, we headed to the waterfront. There we performed a simple swimming test to get classified as either: Swimmer, intermediate, or non-swimmer. I felt a little bolder again since I could swim. I wanted the swimmer classification, because only swimmers could check out canoes — and I loved canoeing!

We marched to the lake. I expected just a lake with a few rope buoys cordoning off the different sections. But as we approached, I saw for the first time the intricate network of docks sprawling into the lake. There were boys jumping in and life guards hovering over them. It reminded me of a gantry system abuzz with astronauts and technicians preparing a rocket for launch. I felt dwarfed by the complexity of it all and started getting scared.

Our group fell in line at Dock 3. Seven separate docks branched off Dock 3. Each was an individual lane. One by one we’d take our tests, scrutinized by life guards. They held large hooks to fish floundering scouts out of the water if they couldn’t swim.

While we waited, they informed us of the drill. One life guard assigned which lane to proceed to. Another told us when to jump in. The swimmer classification required us to swim three lengths of the dock with any overhand stroke we chose, then one length doing the backstroke. I knew both strokes, but I never swam in front of judges before. The intermediate level required swimming two lengths using any stroke. Non-swimmer required nothing.

I watched boy after boy dive in. Some did well, becoming swimmers or intermediates. Others sunk to the bottom and got plucked out when they surfaced, instantly becoming non-swimmers.

Then my turn came. Nervous, I jumped in. Somewhere between jumping in and hitting the water, fear emptied my brain of everything I knew about swimming. I floundered.

Gasping for air, I bobbed up and down. Frantically I reached out for a hook. But, no one paid any attention to me. I continued to thrash around, but nobody even glanced my way.

I swam over to the dock and pulled myself out. Dripping as I stood on the dock, heaving to fill my lungs with precious air, a life guard asked me what I’d done.

“Non-swimmer,” was all I said. I walked away in shame.

It took me three days to feel comfortable enough in this daunting camp setting to realize I was not a non-swimmer. It dawned on me that indeed I did swim to the dock before pulling myself out. I was mortified at how I’d let the complexity of camp life overwhelm me. It’s amazing how we let fear rob us of our capability.

I retook the test and passed it hands down.

Later that day I canoed on the lake while other newbies hunted snipes or searched for left handed screwdrivers.