In the summer of 1969, I was a camp counsellor.
We had a search protocol that we practised on a regular basis so that we’d be prepared in the event of a missing camper.
At the beginning of the summer, the staff was divided into two teams: “land search” and “water search.” Each person had a specific area of the camp or waterfront to check. If you were conducting a water search, you had to duck-dive your way through the swimming area, all the while hoping it was just a drill.
Searches were signalled by an ear-splitting siren. When we heard the siren, staff members were expected to begin checking their assigned areas immediately.
Understandably, not everyone was dressed for a water search at all times. As a result, the usual practice was to peel off our clothing down to our underwear while sprinting for the water. Ours was a girls’ camp and the staff was all female, so this didn’t present a problem.
However, on one occasion, the siren sounded at the precise moment that canoeists from a boys’ camp were blithely paddling by just outside the swimming area.
First, their ears were assaulted by the siren. After that got their attention, young women began running toward them, ripping off their clothes. The canoeists gaped at us, stunned, then oars flew in all directions as they tried to paddle the canoes closer. After being at a boys’ camp for most of the summer, those boys must have thought they’d died and gone to heaven.
Once we got over our initial shock at having such an attentive audience, we plunged into the water and conducted our search. Fortunately, it was only a drill.
Victoria, British Columbia