Seasoned blogger Can '29 has "never dedicated any piece to a person or a thing related to humans," he writes. "That all changes today." Reflecting on his first Hancock experience, he turns his spotlight from the glorious natural surroundings to the abundance of people—his fellow students—who make this place in the woods "no ordinary location."

In all my time as a connoisseur of writing, I have always left out the credits roll. I have never, in actuality, credited a person or persons. Since the commencement of my writing career, I have symbolically given credit to life itself, as often I discover myself philosophizing and, to paraphrase Henry David Thoreau, “sucking out all the marrow of life.” So, yes, I have never dedicated any piece to a person or a thing related to humans.

That all changes today.

Today, a dedication will be made to such an entity. This missive is dedicated to the Commonwealth School. Not for reasons you’d expect, though. You see, this is not a graduation speech…and I have only just started my first year here. I will not be praising the school. What I will be doing is attempting to depict this truly unforgettable experience that this place has given its students twice each year.

I address you, reader, from the middle of somewhere. I am surrounded by all sorts and varieties of grand autumnal foliage, ranging from tones of red to verdant shades of green. The lake sprawls out in front of me, revealing all its glory. The solar rays radiate into the earth as they shine upon a perfect morning of early fall. It is both mesmerizing and seductive—and convincing. I can almost smell cinnamon, and a whole stick at that. It is surely not the unforgiving northern lands of Alaska, yet it is not Key West, either. It strikes the greatest balance.

This is a camping common in New Hampshire, and I just happen to be here for half a week as part of an education establishment’s trip into the wilds. The White Mountains, which are perhaps the most grandiose mountain range in the Northeast, completely ring my surroundings.

It is both a simple thing and a mystery, coming here. How is it that a human, part of a species known for greed and a penchant for power, could ever be so delighted and content by such a basic fact of nature? How could I ruminate at length about being here, at an ordinary camping common, for years still? 

As one sits on a shore overlooking the water in the evening, they will find themselves to be in the midst of several sounds: Waves lapping at the sand. A quiet discord of conversations echoing in the distance. The faint sound of various waterfowl and birds. And as the sunset dashes and paints salmon belts across the sky, I feel as though I have reached one of the last vestiges of true nature.

It is not just the absence of humans here that makes staying all the more special—it is also the abundance of people. You see, this haven in the woods is not only for lonely rumination—it is a ripe place to create novel friendships that shall last perhaps for ages. It is impossible to spend an hour here and not bump into almost all other temporary denizens of the camp area. This voluntary form of “close quarters” results in exceptional memories and acquaintances made.

The stars have appeared by now. The vast expanse of the final frontier is alight with shining, pearlescent lights from far away and long ago. In front of the fire is the de facto location for the maturing of the day’s events. As the flame crackles inside a tent of logs and campfire hallmarks are cooked, someone suggests another tradition: the campfire song. As a teacher pulls out his guitar, we launch into touching, slightly out of tune renditions of classics from the sixties and beyond. And as I sit there, life comes to a standstill, a moment that flows like delectable honey. It is both a simple thing and a mystery, coming here. How is it that a human, part of a species known for greed and a penchant for power, could ever be so delighted and content by such a basic fact of nature? How could I ruminate at length about being here, at an ordinary camping common, for years still? 

I believe that the secret to such an euphoric experience would be the truth: that this place is no ordinary location. The simultaneous transport of every student to a grandiose natural wonder resulted in a number of inexplicable forces—forces that guaranteed we all were content here. The large population, partially crammed into a camping ground of immense glory, is a proven equation for happiness.

I shall leave you at that point. However, I ask you all to remember the guiding principle of this place, the undeniably meaningful reason that coming here feels the way it does, and to never forget why we go on these trips. As J.R.R. Tolkien once said: “Not all who wander are lost.”

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