The Value of a Manito-wish Experience: Tomás Michelangeli

Hi, my name is Tomás Michelangeli. I am writing this to you at home in Manhattan after a wonderful summer in the Northwoods. It was my 9th summer at Manito-Wish, and so I can comfortably say that camp feels like home, too. Growing up in New York City, but spending my summers paddling the lakes and streams of Boulder Junction and beyond, always warranted some strange looks. Friends from home would see me come back with bug bites, new scars, and stories of not showering for days; they couldn’t imagine why I’d want to spend my summer at a camp that makes me carry heavy packs and even heavier canoes. 

         I loved Camp from the start. At nine years old, it was scary and exciting to be away from home for the first time. I learned to make friends outside of school and without my parents scheduling playdates. I started learning how to take care of myself away from home and family – a lesson that camp has continued to teach me year after year, and one that moving to college last year made me more grateful for than ever. When I first started at Camp, I enjoyed trail–brownies, swimming, loons – but it wasn’t until my Near North year that I loved trail. We paddled from Camp to Sylvania in the UP. The portages were the hardest I’d ever done, and the bugs were the worst I’d ever seen. The trip would have been horrible if not for two things. One, the company. Trail has a way of bringing people together. You all depend on each other to get things done. You can’t paddle, portage, eat or sleep without each other’s help. And when things get hard, you rely on each other. Trail had always been teaching me how to work in a team, but as the trips became longer and harder, groups became closer. Near North was the first time I found myself working as a part of a community, not just a team. Two, the wilderness. Sylvania was unlike anything I’d ever seen. Lakes so clear you could see the bottom even in the middle. Sandy beaches where we’d swim and have TL, and trees. Seemingly endless groves of ancient old growth. Under those trees, I had many conversations with my TC. He told stories of Outpost, his Canuck and Alaskan. I was falling in love with trail, and his stories showed me Outpost as an opportunity to continue exploring this new passion. 

         Outpost was absolutely the place to continue seeking out stunning wilderness and making community with like-minded people. The people I met in the outpost are some of the people I look up to most and get along with best. You form a special bond with the people you’ve been on trips with. Spending every minute together (through long days, bad weather, beautiful sights) and working for and depending on each other (cooking, cleaning, setting up camp) brings tripmates together in such a close and unique way. My friends from the outpost are truly people I will cherish for life. I think the term ‘life-changing’ gets thrown around a lot, but it’s true! On each of my outpost trips, I learned lessons that have genuinely changed my life. More than that, however, they are life-affirming experiences. Never have I been more grateful and excited to be alive than when I’m out there.

         Now I’m back at Camp, this time on the staff side of things. It has been such a delight to work with long-time mentors and friends. The idea of instilling the same love for the outdoors and fostering the same kind of friendships I have with others is what will keep me coming back to camp for years to come. Something that my new perspective on staff has allowed me to appreciate this year is just how supportive the Manito-Wish community is. Volunteers help on opening day and in the horse barn. There was rarely a ‘that’s not my job’ attitude from co-workers; if you needed help, someone was always ready to lend a hand. Even campers were eager to help if needed. My biggest takeaway from this summer was a sense of pride for a community of peers, campers, and admin that lift each other up.   

         I have tried my best to briefly capture what makes this place so addictive, why I love this place, these people, and the things we do. But honestly, I don’t think I did it justice. I think I’d be writing forever if I tried to capture it perfectly. It’s just something I feel. The only way to get what I mean is to experience it for yourself. So, I hope to see you out there. 

Peace on the Waterways

• Tomás Michelangeli