I have a friend in Nashville named Brandon. He was so encouraging over this past spring, as Towles and I began sharing our travel plans with friends. When he learned our itinerary would take us to Vancouver, he said, “If you can swing it, you have to see Malibu!” He was referring not to sunny southern Cal, but a small camp owned by YoungLife at the entry to Princess Louisa Inlet, a location north of Vancouver on the remote coastline of British Columbia, accessible only by boat or seaplane. It would be our farthest point from Nashville, and the most removed from civilization.

 
To get there, we put Bessie on a ferry across Horseshoe Bay, from Vancouver Langdale, and then we drove across two islands to Egmont. There, we left Bessie at the pier and met Captain Don, who piloted us in a water taxi up the Jervis Inlet, passing waterfalls and Indian pictographs on the sheer rocks coming into the ocean. Here, in 1792, Captain Vancouver, the great British explorer, spent his first night in what would become British Columbia.

When we reached the camp, we saw what looked like several A-frame lodges, joined together by thick-planked wooden walkways and skirted by heavy log railings. The entire complex is built on a high rock outcropping over the tumultuous waters that gush through the narrow entrance to the Princess Louisa Inlet. The channel is so narrow that the 13-foot tide rushing in and out was more powerful than most river rapids we’d ever seen. 

At the Malibu dock, a kind woman named Ruth met us and led us to our choice of bunkhouses (camp numbers were low the week we were there). We chose the Sechelt Bunkhouse for its location, view and relative safety. The kids were delighted to find we had the entire cabin to ourselves – 10 bunks, four showers and four restrooms. We all chose bottom bunks head-to-toe and headed straight to the pool that was perched above the inlet narrows. The diving board was a hit (although the shadow of Peter’s head injury in Moab and the remoteness of the camp kept us from encouraging too much craziness), and after a solid hour and a half of jumping and swimming, the camp horn sounded and we were off to prepare for dinner. 

We loved our first exposure to YoungLife as a family. In the midst of beautiful scenery, where teenagers are serving other young people all summer, and are putting into practice the study and living out of scripture, we felt the great comfort of being “in God’s hands.” Our kids had the chance to see an enthusiastic college-aged work crew make and serve our meals, while the high school aged campers cheered and clapped for them at the start of each meal, following a blessing offered by one camper for all 120 of us. To say Claire, Elizabeth and Peter were impressed is an understatement. 

During the day, camp free time is filled with outdoor fun: water skiing, kayaking and SUPing in the inlet, boat rides to Chatterbox Falls, Blob jumping, a floating trampoline, a trapeze over water and, of course, the pool, heated to 85 degrees. YoungLife knows how to combine the healthy pursuit of God with the great enjoyment of his creation. 

All the spiritual inspiration led us to have “family church” on the dock one morning, a sweet moment for all of us as we discussed living water, our hopes (for fun, freedom and bravery) and fears (of the water, mostly, where we saw lots of seals swimming and the kids feared sharks). We then set off for more camp fun, where Claire, Elizabeth and Peter (and Towles and I) received more than our measure of courage, as we sea kayaked, jumped off the floating trampoline into the cold water, and in the pool. Even when we weren’t in or on the water, we were inventing games on the volleyball court, in the billiard room or in the cabin. Like the teenage campers, we felt more connected to God and to one another by all the unabashed fun we were having together. 

Going to Malibu, we felt a little hesitant about leaving behind our connections, digital and otherwise, to the outside world, but it was such a refreshing break and reframed our perspective on what connectedness truly means, and how often we substitute with things that fall far short of it.