For me, personally, I find it very difficult to go back and revisit certain places from my past. As with most things when it comes to myself, it’s black and white. Either I love and adore the place (Garrison, ND) or I can’t even face it (almost any place from high school). But on this beautiful day in late September, I got to go back to a place that, even in its dysfunction, was so beautiful to me. It was a place I loved with all my heart. And when I got to return as an adult, I found I loved it even still. Even with the bad memories bombarding me, I walked forward into the golden sunshine and fell back in love with Northern Lights Camp in the Fall.
Let’s go...
Northern Lights camp sits on the shore of Lake Metigoshe in the Turtle Mountains of North Dakota. North Dakota has mountains? Well...no. I mean, for North Dakota they’re mountains! But really they’re just a lot of high hills absolutely smothered in trees and dotted with lakes. And the best time to visit (in my opinion) is always in fall. This is one of those hidden treasures of ND. It’s not notorious like Fargo, or tackled by tourists all summer like Medora. It’s ND’s own, special place where the locals mostly like to go.
Dad and I like to do one day trip (always to explore somewhere abandoned) before it gets snowy. In 2016 it was the Fort Ransom area. Last year it was Arena, ND. This year, we went to the abandoned SRA (where he went to high school) and then headed up to Northern Lights Camp. My dad now works for the church that owns it. And my history with this place? Well, I used to attend this camp in the fall when I was at church boarding school. And it was the highlight of my year. I adored “camp week”, as we called it. Camp week happened just after the first week or two of school started. It marked the beginning of fall and the beginning of getting to truly know everyone at school. I hadn’t been back to Northern Lights (or the Turtle Mountains) for 13 years. It was time.
(below: the boys’ cabins and bathroom)
I can say that, even through the restrictions and rules, Northern Lights always marked a bright place during a very dark time in my life. But coming back as adult was wonderful! No restrictions! I can walk all the trails, I don't have to stay in one spot, I don’t have to stay away from the “pizza hut” (we’ll get to that), and although we didn’t have time to take canoes to Masonic Island, no one was preventing me from doing so. Now, Northern Lights isn’t just a beautiful and quiet place, but a freeing one as well. Let’s walk around!
(Below: boys’ cabins and part of the brand new cafeteria building - they didn’t have that when I went here!)
View from the front of the camp looking at the building that houses the chapel up top and rooms/bathroom/laundry on the bottom. We usually were limited to staying in this open green area when I was here as a teenager, always had to be within sight of staff. Lots of activities and meetings and of course - the beginning of capture the flag happened here!
My favorite sight in camp ever since my first visit - the girls’ chalet and trail down to the lake, through the woods. Only the senior girls got to stay in the chalet! It was a huge treat.
Below: girls’ bathrooms and the little trail up to the girls’ cabins.
Here are the revamped girls’ cabins for grades 9-11. Why weren’t they this nice when I was there!? Our cabins were so ghetto! But we never minded. I can’t say I loved the cobwebs and spiders but I was so excited about camp I didn’t care much.
Looking down the path from the girls’ cabin to the common area of camp.
There was a new swing on this tree I hadn’t seen before! It was fun. Husband and I tried it out. I can only imagine the antics we would have tried on this thing as teenagers - it probably would have been banned for us immediately due to sheer stupidity on our part! But hey, as a teenager you’re invincible!
Back to my favorite view. Honestly, one reason I ended up returning to boarding school my senior year was for all the senior perks. One perk? Getting to stay in the very nice chalet with the other senior girls! Such a treat compared to the moldy, spidery cabins. It doesn’t look like much, but this was luxury to us! It had a bathroom inside and nice warm rooms. No drafts here! It was every bit the treat I was hoping for when I finally got to stay here as a senior with the rest of the girls from my class.
I had to head down this trail, of course. Usually we were forbidden to, back when I was here for camp week.
Into the woods we go!
And the trail goes into a clearing where you can see the meeting building from another angle.
And back down the trail to go past the boathouse and to the lake!
Here we are! Lake Metigoshe!
There’s Masonic Island - so near yet so forbidden to us. A few brave students canoed there and didn’t get caught. They spoke of weird stone alters and structures, but always got spooked and left immediately. Here’s what I could find on Masonic Island online. Anyway, just like most everything else we were forbidden from doing, Masonic Island is harmless and we were probably kept from going there for the main reason we were forbidden from doing anything - they were afraid we would meet up with boys. Can you hear my eyes rolling? Anyway.
The light wasn’t great on this day, it was very harsh and my camera is still on the fritz, but I did my best to capture the place.
Below you can see the boat house and a corner of the meeting building.
Immediately I turned to the trails. I was never allowed to hike the trails and knew it was what I wanted to do when I visited as an adult. So that’s what I did. I was alone. And I set off, marching down the trails looking for my formerly forbidden destination.
It was ridiculously exciting to walk the trails. And I felt deeply sad that I hadn’t been allowed to during camp week. Because the trails are gorgeous and quiet and healing.
Especially in fall, as you can see, these trails are perfect to walk down. Although, as I said, I was doing more of a determined march down them.
There were such pretty views of the lake!
Then I turned to go into the deep woods. I’m surprised I wasn’t worried about getting lost. As I said, I hadn’t been allowed on these trails during camp week (looking back, why would you forbid the students from literally walking in nature when they’re at camp? Well because they could meet up with boys of course!)
But somehow, my internal compass steered me correctly.
I blazed the trails. I felt like I was being drawn to my destination and very much enjoyed the journey!
Just through these trees (below) you could see the sparkling lake.
I tried not to march away from my memories as I went down the trails. I let them come. It was fairly healing, actually.
There was so many sun-dappled paths to explore!
Being from North Dakota, I am fascinated by groups of trees because they are so rare.
All I could hear was my own breath and the crunch of leaves and grass under my feet.
I came to this oak tree and somehow knew I was on the right track, even though I’d never been on the trails before.
I could feel it. I was getting closer.
I reached a clearing and let my instincts guide the way.
Here we are. The Pizza Hut.
A mysterious place I was always forbidden to go during camp week (add that to the long list). Only certain older kids went here. When I was a freshman/sophomore it was the older girls who wouldn’t let me go here (for whatever reason) and when I finally got back as a senior it was older boys and staff (usually male staff). But I was fascinated! Just try to keep me away from something abandoned! I went once as a senior during capture the flag but it was too dark to see much.
So it was the first place I went 13 years later when I got to camp, of course. I marched right down the trails to the Pizza Hut. This is what I had in my mind when I knew we were going to visit. I was finally going to see the Pizza Hut. That place always only reserved for the “right” students or staff, which I never seemed to be one of. Now, I was finally here. You may think, what’s the big deal? Well, for one thing it’s a mysterious abandoned tower-like structure in the woods. And I’ve always been obsessed with abandoned places. For another, I’d heard of it ever since I was a freshman and had always been kept from it. When you are restricted in every way, shape, and form, often for no reason or just ridiculous reasons, you want to break those restrictions. Even if you’ve had to wait years into the future to do it. I wish I could put it into better words but sometimes you just have to walk in a boarding school student’s shoes to understand.
Before I left, I asked one of dad’s friends (and a longtime camp caretaker) what the Pizza Hut was all about. Here’s the scoop!
It was a weather research station way back in the day.
Then they stored the old pizza ovens from SRA here, and there they remain to this day.
There are giant water tanks in the basement, too. They were supposed to supply water to the camp but that never happened.
Basically, a lot of ideas went into this place that never got completed. And now it’s boarded up and it’s a climbing wall for campers.
Now I know! And now you do, too.
Back down the trails I went, this time to find my people. I had accomplished one goal - I saw the Pizza Hut. Later I took dad back there. He was interested too. But we couldn’t find a way inside - bummer.
I found my husband exploring on his own and told him a few camp stories. He asked about the trails on the boys’ side of camp. And I told him it was the boys’ side - I was absolutely forbidden to go near that side of camp. He snorted and said, “What is camp for if you can’t do half the stuff!?” I told him it didn’t matter at the time. Not much, anyway. Camp week was freedom compared to the rest of the school year. He just shook his head. But it’s true. It was, as sad as that is.
We met up with dad who was excited to show us some trails he worked on earlier in the year when he was at camp helping out. And they just so happened to be on the boys’ side of camp! Scandalous.
What was interesting to me was dad’s experience as an academy camper here vs. mine. He could go anywhere and do anything including kissing a girl in the bushes and not get in trouble! I can not tell you the hell I would have caught had I been found in the same situation.
He kept saying things like, “I bet when you were here you guys would run off into the woods too!” or he’d ask me if I’d been on this trail or that. No. We weren’t allowed. I said it over and over again. He seemed mystified by that. His experience was so opposite. Was it because he is a male and I am female? Probably. Because it was the 70s vs. the early 2000s? Maybe. A totally different staff? Possibly. I may never know.
Below: a page from my dad’s 1975 school yearbook - they loved camp week back then just as much as we did!
I asked dad about these old wagon wheels and parts around camp and he said somewhere along the way someone dumped them around camp to lend a “rustic” touch.
It was exciting to go on more trails I had never seen, and again I felt sad that we were forbidden from going on these trails. Because they’re so pretty! Whereas the trails on the girls’ side meander over the hillside overlooking the lake, the boys are in the deep, deep woods and have swampland dotted throughout.
And because of that, there were so many mushrooms we found!
I was delighted. I had never seen the classic red capped mushrooms with white bases before in ND!
Usually I just see mushrooms like these big, soggy guys on this tree (below) or the typical white mushrooms.
Dad helped me get shots of these by pulling the grass and leaves away from the mushrooms. We were charmed.
We reached a swampy clearing and found what dad wanted to show us.
A big rope swing in the middle of the woods! How fun is that!?
Dad hopped right on and told my husband to push him. LOL!
So he did! Then husband took a turn trying to climb the rope swing. I was too busy photographing mushrooms to try it. That’s pretty typical of me!
I got the shot! Isn’t it beautiful? Nature is amazing.
We ended our time standing by a place on the boys’ trails overlooking a bit of the lake.
Dad shared his camp week memories. Told us the story of him kissing a girl in the bushes. I was scandalized. Husband thinks we are all weird.
I shared stories of the highlight of camp week - capture of the flag.
It was always boys against girls (of course) and always late at night. We started at the flagpole on the green by the cafeteria. If you were an underclassman (especially freshman) you were usually made to guard the line. It was always the older and athletic kids who got to go deep into the woods on trails and hide and guard the flag. And staff did play with us - mostly the male staff. The female staff tended to sit on the steps of the cafeteria, the light from the windows spilling over them, sitting and sipping hot drinks and watching us play. When I was a freshman/sophomore I was a) an underclassmen and b) nowhere near athletic (I cried through PE class). I was relegated to being ignored or told to guard the line. When I came back as a senior I had more say but was still terribly not athletic and by that point didn’t care as much. I had more of a run of the girls’ trails. Do I remember who won? I think the boys usually did. The male staff usually went on the girls’ team because the boys’ took it so dead seriously. As in, they were ready to fight you to the death over their flag. Ridiculous - but then again, I’m not a terribly competitive person.
The part of capture the flag I always liked was painting my face. Just with whatever makeup we had, I think. Not all girls did it, and usually it was just a few smudges on the cheeks. In fact, I’m not even sure when the trend started. But I took it to new heights. I may have been useless athletically but never artistically! So I would paint super elaborate designs all over my face with eyeliner (I think they usually looked like spider webs - I have photos somewhere) and usually a few other girls wanted me to help with their’s, too. I was happy to help. There’s a place for most people in some parts of capture the flag, I guess!
I look around this place and I see the sheer beauty I saw before, as a teenager, and I understand why I adored it so much despite everything. I loved the cold mornings. The camp food. Dipping toes in the freezing lake. Painting our faces for capture the flag. Sure, as an adult I see the glaring dysfunction. But then? I just saw the leaves starting to turn and the lake sparkling thought trees. And it was good.
Anderson, Frank. The Frank Slide Story. Calgary, Alberta: Frontier Publishing Ltd., 1968. 60 pp. 8vo. Photographs. Frontier Book No. 1. Staplebound. Very good. Bookplate.
