The Torture That Is School Camp

School Camps

Anyone who’s ever been on a school camp can probably back me up on this. Not every moment is the glorious, fun-filled adventure camps are shaped up to be.

A few of my school camps really stand out in my mind. Year Six- when we went to Canberra (capital city of Australia and filled with old stupid buildings and embassies and government houses... need I explain further? I think not!) Year Eight- camping at the Prom and it flooded. Year Nine- The Snow (which disaster do I choose?)

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CANBERRA CAMP- YEAR SIX

Memorable moments from year six camp include falling asleep listening to the Prime Minister speak while visiting Parliament House, falling asleep on the grass outside Old Parliament House, falling asleep listening to some old person talk about a War (forgive me everyone, but I was eleven) in the War Memorial and starving to death.

Ever had a school camp when you had to get up at half past six in the freaking morning? One where you were given a sandwich, tiny pack of healthy crackers and apple as the only meal between breakfast and dinner? And all at once? They didn’t have the decency or thoughtfulness to stretch the meager portions over the day! And have you ever had a school camp where you spent most of the time trying not to fall asleep?!?!

Welcome to my Year Six Canberra camp. It sucked. It really, really, really, really sucked. It’s hard to express just how much it sucked. I thought, at the time, it was THE WORST camp I would ever go to. I was wrong.

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WILSON'S PROM- YEAR EIGHT CAMP

I thought Canberra was the most goddamn awful place on earth to spend a camp, until year eight when I spent a week at Wilson’s Prom. We packed what we needed into backpacks, hiked nearly ten kilometers in the freaking rain, set up tents on hard, rocky ground, ate a crappy, mostly raw meal that was cooked over a mini camp fire thingy that wasn’t working properly, and went to sleep. That was day one.

When we were woken up by water, we figured out our tents had freaking flooded! Everything we had brought was drenched. Absolutely saturated. It was terrible. Horrible. Wet. Very wet. We ate a breakfast of powdered milk and water, with soggy cereal. And I mentioned the powdered milk and water separately because the powder did not dissolve.

The next six days consisted of hiking, putting up wet tents, freezing to death, packing up wet tents, hiking, putting up wet tents, freezing to death, packing up wet tents, hiking and bad food that was mostly raw. I cried when we went home, I was so happy.

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YEAR NINE CAMP- THE SNOW

I thought that nothing could possibly top the Wilson's Prom camp off, I really did. I was wrong.

Have you ever been to a camp where you’ve been so desperate for warmth that you laid down on a heated public bathroom floor? With your teacher and rest of your class lying right next to you? Have you ever been on a camp where people have actually injured themselves to get taken home?

I have. Year Nine. Last year. We went to The Snow.

We should have realized that it would be terrible when our instructors told us that they had accidently left our group’s food at the bottom of the mountain. Seriously- if that ever happens to you get the hell out of there instantly! Because it’s only going to get worse. We were stuck eating the left-overs from the other groups for TWELVE days.

The skiing was okay… for the first three days. The snow was melting so there weren’t many open slopes. Most of the snow was the fake kind. Of course, that didn’t mean it wasn’t freezing. Because it was. Freaking freezing!

Then on day four disaster struck. Again. Our clothes got soaked when the buggy-thingo that was taking them across to our next destination broke down and they were left there over-night. Apparently it rained. Or snowed. And then the snow melted. Because by the time we got our stuff back, they were horribly wet.

This is when the tears started. We actually had to sleep on our clothes to try and warm them up so they would dry! The place we were staying was so basic, it didn’t have up-to-date heaters, only the old-fashioned type that if you left anything on them, they caught fire. We should know.

Day seven was when we found the bathroom with the heated floors. It was a public bathroom in this place we went into to get lunch. We actually laid down on them, crying our eyes out because they were so warm. And the teachers laid down with us. (not the instructors though, because apparently heated public bathroom floors were below their standards... snobs...)

Day seven was also the day when the “accidents” started. Perhaps the memory of what warmth felt like spurred some of the girls on to desperate measures, because five girls actually hurt themselves (over the period of the remaining days) just so they could go home. The most memorable accident the one of a girl that we will call Sarah (that’s not her real name- her real name is Christie. Just joking. You don’t get to know her name). Sarah purposely ski-ied (is that how you spell ski-ied? Auto-correct doesn’t like it) straight into a rock. A freaking rock.

God kill me if I lie. (I actually don’t know the proper words for that saying, and I’m agnostic so… either smile and read on, or just insert the right phrase there). Seriously. She ski-ied into a rock.

And we were all so jealous as she actually waved as she was driven away in a snow-buggy-thingy, her neck in a brace and her ankle swollen as hell (her neck turned out to be fine, but she broke a bone in her foot). Five out of the eleven of us went home early, because of injuries. Despite my best efforts, I was not one of them.

If anyone has had worse experiences on a school camp, please let me know. It might be therapeutic for me.

Love Juni!