Just Add Water!

Maqua scnas_Aug73_35-2 Docks, floats, rafts and boathouse took on many shapes and forms to create swimming and boating areas on Loon Lake over the course of fifty-four years at Camp Maqua. Floats were made with drums fitted to them (donated by Imperial Oil) in 1933, according to notes in a ledger book

“Removed front half of the platform (ruined by lake ice) and moved it up to shore”, read committee notes in 1951 from the YWCA. A new raft was also built, 100 ft. of permanent dock was installed and six new rowboats, several paddles, a new job for the Snipe and new buoys completed the list of boathouse needs.

In other years, supports were added to the boathouse and pavilion that once graced the formidable structure. A wall of piles at the end of the pavilion served as a protection against the ice moving the supports during the cold winters.

In the early years there were boat competitions, according to Meg Dahlem (1925), where the winner received the Bracken Fern Award. Rowboats, sailboats, and canoes turned into parade floats. In the later years, kayaks were added to the boating fleet, and water skiing was taught.

Swimming Tests–

EPSON MFP image

“Swimming was always the main outdoor sport. Beginners advanced to red caps and once they could swim fifty yards, jump into the water over their heads, float on their backs and fronts and complete a dive kneeling from the raft, they earned a green cap. A blue cap was earned when the girls could swim every stroke, surface dive and swim 125 yards,” stated a news article in 1937 about the swim program at camp.

“Red caps at 9:30. Green caps at 10:30. Boating and canoeing at 3:00 and general swim at 4:00. This is how we run our waterfront,” said Nan Lipsett, the 1949 waterfront director in an article in the “Loon” Julie Ford, Helen Hasty, Jerre Johnson, Bertie Van Welt and Dee Weinberg all assisted on the waterfront that summer.

“As always, swimming is the bright spot in everyone’s day at Camp Maqua,” the article continued. “Many beginners passed into the ranks of green cap this period and more passed from green to blue.”

On her first day at the waterfront, Debbie Pennington (1961-62) was forced into the boathouse by the weather as she waited her turn for her swim test. “It was freezing and raining and we had our towels wrapped around us, shivering. I know it had to be nerves and I could feel it coming. I threw up all over the girl in front of me. I know she had to be floored and I was so embarrassed.”

Synchronized Swimming, Water Ballet and Activities

005-jean-baptiste-courtier-theredlistSwimming was a large part of Molly Olson’s growing up years at camp in the forties and she  learned at her grandmother’s pool club. She excelled at synchronized swimming at camp and it remained a part of her high school career, as well as performing on the swim team. She was proficient enough to swim across the lake and received her lifesaving certificate.

Amy Falk (1971-74) knew how to swim before camp, but learned the basics of synchronized swimming while she was there. “I remember we would roll over and lie on our backs and do our routines. My friends and I just did this at a lake a few weeks ago,” she admitted with a laugh during her interview.

“Anybody who was in the advanced swim class could be part of the synchronized swimming,” said Shelley Harris (1965-75), who had experience in her Flint high school. “When we had days that the swim teachers could do whatever they wanted, we would play music (Beatles was my favorite), and head to the deep end to do circus dives, water ballet and pageantry out by the raft.”

Lifesaving Drills and Certification

There were always extensive waterfront activities with qualified safety and life-saving instructors for swimming and boating. The Dept. of Social Serivces for the state inspected the camp yearly. In 1971 their report listed eleven water safety instructors and four lifesavers, which meant the camp was under excellent supervision. It noted a human chain was formed, in case of a lost swimmer, where runners are sent to the units.

Julie Bernard was one of the counselors in training that summer. “I was one of the CIT’s that yelled line up and dive, as we formed the line out in the water for the Red Cross Cerification drills. We had to swim under the dock and find whatever was hidden to recreate a body rescue. There was an emergency bell that rang and we would all run to the waterfront, stripping our clothes off as we ran, using our eyes and arms in the murky water of Loon Lake to find it.”

564982_2145510015534_1301897886_n“I remember taking a junior lifesaving from a, shall we say, rather large counselor,” said Carolyn Waits (1955-57). “When I was taking the final test, where I had to dive down, turn her around in the water, then come up for a lifesaving hold, she managed to turn around while I was on my way up and grab me around the neck. I found out later that she had supposedly had greased her body, sho that our hold wouldn’t take! Oh, the stories we believed,” laughed Carolyn.

Debra Osher admitted that her personal stories were sometimes negative at the time, but her senior lifesaving story from 1960’s was laughable now. She was instructed to run down the hill when she heard the “victim” screaming for help, fully clothed. As she ran, she was to shed her clothes. She recalled how anxious she was, but she did as she was instructed.

The Buddy Board–

398208_2145508495496_1330346019_nVisual aids from the Red Cross for boating and swimming, bulletin boards with pertinent articles to the waterfront, and charts such as “Swim and Stay Fit” or “Basic Survival” hung in and around the boathouse during Nancy Sautter’s 1969 waterfront director days. Even charts with the swimmer’s progress to boost enthusiasm graced the doors near the all important buddy board.

There was a drill, under her careful direction, for the protection and safety of all the girls under her watch. The bell would ring at 4:30 and the buddies would line up by the board. A diagram showed the assigned spots for qualified staff, and they were instructed not to talk to anyone, but to be on guard. One person was assigned to the board to check the swimmers in. Rings and buoys were at the end of the “L” dock and inside the lifeboat.

The swimmers attached their tags on the same hook together under the area in which they were swimming. Each level had to swim in the appropriate area according to their swim level, except area four, and they could swim anywhere. They all had to swim in doubles or triples.

Once the girls turned their tags, they grabbed their bathing caps and sat near the fire circle. (Area two was green, area three was blue and area four was yellow.) They were instructed to line up according to cap colors to be counted in their double buddy lines. There was a buddy check every six to eight minutes. A whistle system was in place with two whistles for buddy check, one to continue their swimming and three meant out of the water immediately!

Bloodsuckers, Mud Puppies and Swimmer’s Itch

EPSON MFP image

“I grew up one block from the Saginaw Bay, so I learned to swim at the “Y”. I remember seeing my first leech at Maqua and I was mystified. The girls would swim under one dock to another and I can still hear the girls screaming don’t swim under there—there are leeches! I never got any on me,” said Ann Meisel, whose only lake critter spotted in the sixties was a crayfish.

For Doris Engibous, the summers flew by and would be over before she knew it. Camping in the sixties and seventies, she turned down her parent’s membership perks at the Midland Country Club. “I didn’t want to go. I liked Maqua, even with the mucky lake bottom, the leeches and worrying about whether the canoe paddles would get stuck in the water lilies and that we wouldn’t make it back in time.”

A camper who did take advantage of a neighborhood pool, Jenifer Penzien (1969-71), knew how to swim when she attended camp. “I remember I was in the third swimming area, which was the level you could sail, but I also remember those leeches that I was so afraid of, and of course, I got one. I thought it was so gross, but no one seemed very excited about it, they just ran and got the salt.”

Kathleen Clement’s Dad threw her off a dock and told her to “sink or swim” when she was two, so she swam. She also had her Red Cross swimming certification by the time she was at camp in the early sixties. “I can remember the leeches in the reeds by the dock when we first got in the water. These things would be attached to my leg and the counselors would use hot match sticks (blown out) or salt shakers to get them off.”