Photo by Aimee Mazzenga
Archery at 1, Canoeing at 3, Cocktails at 5
Wandawega harkens back to camps of yore, reminding that even grown-ups need a summer getaway
Other than “snow day,” there may be no sweeter words in a child’s lexicon than “summer camp.” No parents to reel you in. New friends for secret shenanigans. Pocket knives and an endless supply of wood to whittle. The mysteries of the forest: bugs, strange noises, trees to climb, lean-tos to build. Splash fights in the middle of a lake with dinged paddles and battered canoes. Badminton without rules, tennis with a droopy net. Squishy shore mud between your toes and pancakes for breakfast every single day. Oh, and did we mention no parents?
When David Hernandez was a boy, some of his happiest days were spent at a summer camp run by Latvian Catholic priests on the shore of Lake Wandawega, Wisconsin, about two hours north of Chicago. The Latvian fathers had fled Soviet oppression after World War II with support from the Vatican and landed in exile in Wisconsin; in 1961, the church bought the Wandawega Lake Resort as a retreat for
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