Maybe it is because my happiest days are the ones I start with a dip in Cass Lake that I rarely skip the chance to leap into water. This has resulted in both some questionable experiences (the Minnesota River in springtime is closer to chocolate milk than water) and some lifelong memories. I will never forget leaping from overhanging bluffs into Lake Superior or submerging into Cass Lake through a hole in the ice.
I live two blocks away from Puget Sound in Seattle. After a flight home or a long work day, its 45-degree waters offer me a “shaking of the mental Etch A Sketch” and an immediate feeling of starting anew, fully refreshed and reinvigorated.
Today my alarm wrenched me from a deep sleep. I trudged down to the shore. Today, like many days, every cell in my body told me to not enter the water. I took off my shoes and stepped onto the cold sand. “Too cold; bad idea,” said my nervous system. I stripped down to my swimsuit. “You are not doing this,” announced my brain. I stepped into the water. “Definitely not!” screamed my aching feet.
There was consensus. Mind, body, and spirit did not want to go into the cold water. Being curled up in my bed sounded like a much better idea.
The Big Dipper Award is presented to Camp Chippewa campers who jumped into Cass Lake every morning and evening while at Camp. It seems like little skill is required to become a “Big Dipper,” especially compared to the demands to achieve other ranks like Expert Rifleman, Helmsman, or Master Archer. These are ranks that few campers earn, and only then after many years of focused effort. Despite its comparatively low requirements, the Big Dipper Award recognizes the acquisition of a tangible, critical, and lasting skill, a skill young people desperately need: the ability to do something, even when you don’t feel like doing it.
Walking onto the Cass Lake dock and jumping into Cass’s crystal-clear waters is a treat. Leaping up out of the water first thing in the morning, the curtain of sleep is yanked back and a sense of freshness and excitement comes rushing in. No morning can compare to one at Camp!
But over 27 days and 54 dips, it isn’t all sunshine. Once in a while, evening temperatures will drop into the 40s. It is perfect for sleeping, as campers pull up an extra blanket and burrow in, but it is decidedly unpleasant for dipping. Sure, the benefit of starting and ending the day being clean and fresh is undeniable. Undeniable too is the short-term discomfort. It is no small task to rise from bed, leaving behind warmth and comfort for a brisk plunge into the water. Likewise, who in their right mind wants to jump into a lake at the end of a windy, rainy day in Northern Minnesota?
But every year, rain or shine, dozens of campers earn the Big Dipper award by jumping into Cass Lake 54 times. Each one of those boys makes the conscious choice to step into known discomfort. They are practicing the ability to do things they don’t want to do.
Beyond camp, this skill is invaluable. Fragility is a hinderance for adolescents and young adults, when the comforts of bed and home are too compelling to take on risk or difficulty. School, work, and relationships take resilience. For boys at Camp Chippewa, resilience is a practiced skill. Carrying a heavy pack, setting up camp, passing a swim test, and paddling a canoe all have moments of challenge and discomfort. Leaving camp, they are better prepared to do things they don’t want to do, and therefore better prepared for life.
Standing knee-deep in Puget Sound, I dove into the water. The cold made me gasp. I stayed in the water, trying to slow my rapid breathing. As I gained control of my breath, the pain a discomfort slowly began to subside. I almost didn’t hear my watch beep marking ten minutes in the Sound. Walking back to shore, my skin felt electric and bright. My mind was clear and the day was full of potential. Worth it.
I dressed and began walking home. I knew there were 40 emails in my inbox. I didn’t want to sit down for a day of work. But why should that stop me?
