Camp Yonahlossee Stories

YONAHLOSSEE STORIES

In the fall of 2001 I was contacted by the owners of the Yonahlossee Resort, who were interested in sharing with their Homeowners the story of our Camp and its history. Parts of the following were reprinted in the Yonahlossee News in the summer of 2002.

Dear Yonahlossee Homeowners,

It's nearly summertime again, and for many of you, that means the suden appearance of a myriad of women who come tromping teary-eyed over your hills and past your homes, pointing, gesturing, and speaking in tongues of "Unaka, Wickiup, Shangri-La, Tepee, The Castle, Tower Up & Down, and Pow Wow." On behalf of the thousands of girls fortunate enough to have been campers and/or counselors at the original Yonahlossee, thank you for putting up with us and for allowing us to invade your sanctuary. For to us, you see, you are living on hallowed ground. Every path and rock and creek and slope is sacred to us, as they are repositories of our girlhood memories.

Camp Yonahlossee was the oldest girls' camp in North Carolina, and for some 63 years hundreds of girls filled your land with shouts of joy, of friendships renewed, of tribal competitions. Each day of our stay (originally 2 weeks or 8, later 4 weeks or 6, and finally two 5-week sessions) was a gift, a blessing. We were given over to the care of the legendary Kepharts, then Agnes Jeter, and later Skeeter Blassingame, who would instill in us the highest ideals of caring and sportsmanship, of becoming well-rounded, We learned to face new adventures and challenges, climbing Grandfather, white-water rafting, rapelling, writing a poem, or crafting a dulcimer. We swam in the icy little lake, rode horses, wove baskets and clothing, shot rifles and arrows, played tennis and golf. We canoed and skied, told secrets, danced, acted in plays, sang in choirs, spit watermelon seeds down the hillsides, and sneaked books into our bunks during Rest Hour. We rode in a real covered wagon to picnics, and called it the Luxury Tour. We took showers in cold water, and went down the hills at night by flashlight to the bathrooms. We giggled all night in our sleeping bags under the stars, roasted marshmallows, and were often visited by a stray cow or horse at our pillow. We slept in an hour later on Sundays, then fortified ourselves with the best cinnamon coffee cake ever made. We needed that, as the Sunday-morning sermons that followed were often long and boring to little girls anxious to run and play.

We alumnae of Camp are grateful to your organization for joining us in the effort to restore the stone circle seat. It was here that girls waited for parents to drive over the bridge for a visit, or a lookout watched for a busload of boys arriving in the driveway for a dance. It was a cozy place to sit and share, laugh or cry with friends. Those very friends are still a precious part of me today, 40 years later. I see them nearly every year, we pore over old photos and catch up on our lives, and the bond that ties us to our magical summers on your mountain can never be broken.

Although my niece and daughter had the joy of being Yonahlossee girls, too, the legacy was to be gone in 1985 when the property was sold. Thank you for preserving the integrity of this land, and for allowing us all to return to a place that haunts our dreams, fills our hearts and helped make all of us who we are today. I created the website www.campyonahlossee.com several years ago so that I could provide a virtual home to those who loved Yonahlossee as much as I. Please feel free to visit and see all the old photos, then perhaps you will better understand why this is such a sacred spot. You are blessed to be there, too.

The weaving cabin that today you use as a day care building, was once one of Camp Yonahlossee's most popular spots. Somehow some 20 looms were located within, and for all 5 activity periods during the day the sounds of the threads whirring on the shuttles, the treadles being pumped up and down, the beater pounding our designs into place could all be heard. The legendary Dot Carlson who lived on Russ Cornett, was our instructor for many years. She was a master, known throughout the Carolinas for her incredible weavings. Lucky Yonahlossee girls - she patiently taught us how to make everything from ties for dad, purses and scarves for mom, rugs for our kitchens, even skirts and dresses. I still have mine, but somehow its waistline has drastically shrunk! Hardly a girl ever left Camp without a set of cotton placemats. I have the ones I made my mother in the 50's and another cherished set made for me by my daughter in the late 70's. They are uncannily alike. These looms were sophisticated and quite large. To help out with weaving, as I did, you had to be able to fix all the broken threads and restring the looms. It was quite a learning experience.

In the little weaving cabin, every girl was a success. Each learned patience and new skills and came triumphantly away with a treasure worthy of a ribbon and a proud smile from parents.

On June 9 if you happen to be down by the lake, watch for the Campers, some now gray-haired but feeling like girls, who will be gathering for a vespers service at 10 AM. The call of Yonahlossee is strong. We still can't resist. And many will tiptoe to the windows of the weaving cabin and remember their prize rug or shawl and how it is still in the family. We are saving these tangible treasures for our grandchildren and theirs. Yonahlossee lives on.

On the near side of the Yonahlossee lake rambles a path called Memory's Trail. You begin by the former pool and diving dock and end up at the little creek that flows into the lake. It has always been called Memory's Trail, and it has always been a bit narrow and slippery. Thank you to whoever has put his heart and soul into making this path once again accessible to all, for just a few years ago it was too dangerous to walk it. Now if you meander slowly, you will see through the trees at the water's edge all those strange water spiders that like the shade. They have always been there, too. Often they had to hide from rambunctious campers who were earning a canoeing badge. Sometimes they no doubt laid low to avoid the gasps of the girls who actually swam a mile in the lake by doing laps from the pool wall to the center dock and back. 56 laps I think it was...I don't remember much except turning blue and earning a patch (which I still have.)

Memory's Trail led the older girls to their cabins: Shangri-La and Paradise. Shangri was close to the now indoor tennis complex. It had its own bathrooms, held 16 girls, and was the reward for being a camper age 15 or older. In the later 50's, a house was bought that was accessible from Poplar Grove. It became Paradise, the ultimate in living-quarter luxuries. Hot water, a little kitchen, a living room and no required rest hour! This was the home of the tribal chiefs and the Pow Wow chief, Helping Campers, and at summer's end, the girl chosen for Spirit of Yonahlossee. I guarantee each one of them still has her Spirit pendant.

Memory's Trail somehow is the first place to which we alumnae gravitate. We need to make that walk and hear those voices from the past. If it were Sunday evening at sunset, we would be on our way to Pow Wow, single file, cautiously approaching the wooden stockade where the Chief raised her arms to the Great Spirit, who, upon hearing the Wa-Ta-Ho and its echoing song, lit our council fire. We sat with our tribe; once you were made a Chippewa, Croatan, Shawano or Tuscarora, you were in for life. You exalted by firelight in the announced triumphs of your friends, awards earned, and recognitions given. The Log was read aloud - this was the weekly collection of poems and stories campers wrote in the creative writing classes. You solemnly marched back afterwards by flashlight on the other side of the lake. Memory's Trail was forbidden to us after dark. Walk cautiously. No doubt 25,000 little girls' spirits are walking with you.

The far side of the lake is quiet now. It is accessible via Memory's Trail, or to the foolhardy (mostly former campers) who climb the rocky hill by the waterfall, where once there were neat dirt steps shored up by logs. On the center of the lake shore was a canoe dock, where counselors gave lessons to the eager Hiawatha wannabes. On Sunday afternoons there were races amongst tribe members, accompanied by a lot of splashing and cheering. Your big wooden deck by the lake covers over what was our "heated" swimming pool The heater never seemed to work, however, and we swam our laps and earned our Red Cross badges in the same cold water as the lake.

Perhaps the most sacred and solemn of all Camp Yonahlossee's rituals took place on that far lake shore on the final night of each Camp session. It was simply called Candlelight. Following the Final Banquet and awards ceremony, the devouring of fried chicken and biscuits, the celebration of the winning tribe, each girl returned to her cabin to don a sweater and slacks. As we climbed the stairs to the lakeside, we were issued a single white candle. A bonfire burned brightly by the lake, and we all, campers, counselors, and staff, gathered around for farewells and songs. The director would light her candle from the fire, then pass the flame to another and another. Soon at least 250 candles would be glowing, and a line of girls, starting with the youngest, would file away into the night, singing verse after verse of "We Are Climbing Jacob's Ladder" until none were left. No one slept much that night. We were too busy crying and vowing eternal friendships. We were told to light our candle at Christmas time, and with it to ignite our memories of Camp and keep them dear. We never really needed a candle for that to happen.

Susan McCain Seraphine-Kimel CY 1953-63 <center><img src="Table.jpg"></center> Home Jete E-mail Directory Photo Gallery Memory Trail PowWow Then and Now CY 1936 Songs Rappelling Reunions <center> Webmaster, Suzy Seraphine-Kimel <a href="mailto:kappa@cfl.rr.com">kappa@cfl.rr.com</center> </BODY> </HTML>