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April 2026
By Lou Berl

I did not go to Camp Onaway, but my relationship with this special community, hidden in the pines, on the crystal-clear shores of Newfound Lake, is as profound as any school or camp I ever attended.

Nancy Winship was my older sister’s best friend growing up, and I worshiped her. She was the youngest of three, just like me, and she made me feel that we shared an incredible bond. Perhaps because she didn’t have a little sister of her own, she always made me feel seen. Almost every time she came over, she would bring a grocery bag full of her hand-me-downs. I especially loved the soft Levi’s corduroys with the little red tab on the back pocket—I thought they were the coolest things. Pretty much everything Nancy did was cool in my eyes, including disappearing every summer to Camp Onaway. I didn’t know much about the camp back then, but we all heard, and envied, her stories of this amazing “home away from home” in New Hampshire.

It was Nancy who gave my name to Carol Southall in 1986 when Carol was looking for a rowing coach. She had just acquired two old wooden Pocock shells from Middlesex School and needed someone to run the program. I was a sophomore at Trinity College in Hartford, with five years of rowing under my belt, and I couldn’t have been more excited when I heard Carol was driving all the way from Maine to meet me.

The visit was wonderful. I can still see the sparkle in her eyes and her warm smile as she described everything Onaway—the culture, the fun, the laughter, the singing, the incredible trips into the White Mountains, and, of course, the lake. While I don’t remember every detail of that conversation, I vividly recall how she conveyed her love of the place, the importance of Onaway’s mission, the accomplishments, the simplicity, and the kindness. I couldn’t wait to work there that summer.

I dove into life at Onaway and felt myself evolve in new ways. I was so grateful for the community of counselors who—despite having mostly attended the camp themselves—embraced me as one of their own. I taught rowing, luxuriated in the clear water, and led several hiking trips. I was a Birches and Aides counselor, and I did my darndest to learn all the Onaway songs. I regularly messed up “Flicker,” and I was eternally grateful for Mrs. Southall’s hand signals reminding me that we did not add the “dadaddada” at the very end of the song.

Working at Onaway taught me so many lessons. It was a place where I felt mentored and supported. I learned to coach, to encourage, and to mediate. I learned the joy of playing with kids and gained the freedom to be myself and trust my gut. In my two years on the Onaway Council, I became comfortable in leadership positions and learned from my peers how good it feels to work hard and have fun at the same time. When I think of Onaway, I think of joy, hard work, and a chorus of songs.

So, when my mother suggested I send my daughter, Charlotte, to Camp Onaway to “keep her cousin Olivia company,” the memories came flying back. Mind you, I didn’t actually want to send my daughter away for an entire summer. Charlotte was our oldest, and my husband, Chris, and I were having the time of our lives raising our girls in the wonderful town of Davidson, North Carolina. I felt no need to send her away… but those powerful memories of the simplicity, the escape into nature, the challenges, and the global friendships took hold. We found a trunk, and the rest is history.

All three of our girls—Charlotte, Wilder, and Allaire—spent many glorious summers growing, laughing, and learning at Onaway. It’s almost impossible to put the power of an Onaway summer into words, but I witnessed it year after year as I watched my daughters grow. We often hear others rave about their summer camp experiences, but very few are as uniquely transformative as Onaway, for both the campers and the counselors.

As a camp, it is a long commitment, and we all know it comes with waves of fabulous energy followed by moments of exhaustion and occasional homesickness. But it is in slugging through the challenges—the repetition and the distance—that the magic happens. We grow as individuals, and we grow as a collective. In a sense, we become a new family, one closer than we ever could if Onaway weren’t a seven-week camp. We learn to celebrate each other. We learn to try again. We hug, we support, we grow an inch, we learn the crawl, we dance, we hike, we create, we memorize, we get stronger, and we finally learn those darn songs. We are not just empowered; we are connected.

As a parent, I had a love/hate relationship with Onaway. On one hand, I couldn’t wait for the girls to get back to the simplicity of the camp—no makeup, no jewelry, brown and white uniforms, pine trees, mountains, the lake, and deep friendships. But because it is such a long summer, I missed them desperately. As much as I loved drop-off day, I hated driving away, knowing I wouldn’t see them for weeks.

The Onaway experience is defined by more than just our pristine location or our social-media-free environment; it is defined by our seven-week commitment to depth. We don’t just introduce campers to new activities; we empower them to master them. Through a supportive community that encourages grit and resilience, Onaway transforms a summer of fun into a summer of real, lasting growth.

Ultimately, the beauty of Onaway is about the time. The magic happens in that long stretch of highs, lows, laughter, and hard work. Much like the real things in life, what Onaway achieves takes time:

• Time allows for skills to improve and confidence to evolve.
• Time allows for friendships to bloom and deepen.
• Time allows for campers to think on their own and work deeply toward their goals.
• Time allows a cabin to become a home and acquaintances to become true friends.
• Time allows for trust to build.
• Time allows for a connection to nature and a break from screens, which helps us relax, sleep better, and lower our anxiety.

Like becoming a good rower, the most important things in life take time and hard work. Thank you, Onaway, for providing such an exceptional home where kids have the time to grow, stretch, become, and evolve.