I used to hate summer. Now I look forward to it. Summer reminds me of being young, having friends, and the rain. Nothing compares to the smell of summer, except maybe the smell of Autumn. Summer also reminds me of something more important than any of the beforementioned. Summit Lake.

In 1995 I saw Sleepaway Camp for the first time. From that point on it became my life's ambition to hunt down the cast and crew of Sleepaway Camp. They had become my prey. So it was bittersweet for me when Jeff Hayes had succeeded in what I had set out to do. The cast and crew had been found, but not by me.

But my ambition didn't stop there. I also wanted to visit the filming locations for Sleepaway Camp. Anyone who's read the end credits for Sleepaway Camp knows that the film was shot in "South Glens Falls". I almost crapped myself when I read that because I live only an hour away from Glens Falls, and had been there plenty in my younger days. Of course, "South Glens Falls" is pretty vague, and I didn't know how I was ever going to find out the exact location at which Sleepaway Camp had been filmed. So, I had pretty much gave up hope of ever making the fantasy become a reality, even though it had been under my nose the entire time.

Then, in the summer of 2000, I received an email from someone who had known way to much about Sleepaway Camp even though he was not directly associated with the project. He offered specific, and explicit directions on how to get to "Aunt Martha's House", and "Camp Arawak". I was taken aback by his willingless to help me, and his trust, considering "Aunt Martha's House" was the home of someone in his immediate family.

So, on May 14 2000, we piled into the car around three o'clock in the afternoon with a map of New York State and the directions printed from the email I received, in search of "Camp Arawak".

The trip into Argyle was not only exciting but entertaining. For my father and brother it was just a waste of a Sunday afternoon. But for me, it was as if I would be stepping into my television set and into Sleepaway Camp. This trip meant making Sleepaway Camp real. Sometimes love is not enough.

About an hour into the trip we had gotten lost, realizing we had driven in a complete circle. At this point my father made a remark that whoever had given me the directions had sent me off on a wild goose chase. Little did we know that our destination was off the map. My father was driving according to the map we had with us, as I read the directions. But I failed to let him know we had to pass into Argyle to get to the camp. Once I told him that, he immediately knew where to go from there. And had I told him we had to go to Argyle before we left the house, he could have purchased a map of Washington County and we never would have gotten lost. But I am an idiot.

Once we passed the town of Argyle, it was nothing but farmland and rolling hills as far as the eye could see. When we reached the peak of our adventure, nearing closer to the camp, we drove down several dirt roads which led to abandoned houses, and shacks surrounded by woods. Then we would ask ourselves, "Is this it?", and answer ourselves by driving away. You see, there is no sign indicating there is a camp off the main road, because the camp simply doesn't exist anymore. Unless you know what road the entrance branches off of, you would never know it was there. So I had made it a point to make a former asylum a landmark at which we could aim to meet, since the former asylum is only less than a mile away from the camp entrance. I knew if we could find the landmark, we were only a few minutes away from camp.

We were running on half a tank of gas by the time we passed an old run down gas station in the middle of nowhere. We knew we were on the main road, and all we had to do was find our landmark. And if memory serves, I believe we took a wrong turn, passing the landmark which we didn't even see, and realizing we had gone too far. So we turned around, and then pulled into the gas station we had driven by earlier. A skinny young man with grease on his hands fingering a tire iron slowly approached the car, wearing a baseball cap and overalls. You think I'm kidding. My father mumbled, "Lock your doors". Well, we're out in the middle of nowhere, and the only person we've seen for hours is this dude. Yea, you better believe we would be a little prejudice. He was very nice, and confirmed that the landmark was indeed where we were heading, but we had to make the other turn which we had missed before. We thanked him kindly, and drove away. And then we made a joke about how he looked like the hitchhiker from "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre". Well, he did.

So, we drove to the landmark, and then backtracked until we came to another road off the main road. I had become very anxious,and could hardly sit still. Ironically enough, the name of this road was "Hayes". I couldn't help but chuckle to myself. Then we hit it. The motherload. The road of all roads. Lined with tall majectic trees, shrouded in shadows. It was the road which led us to Camp Arawak.

My father drove slowly, and I had my head out the window like a dog. We kept driving, seeing a small set of concrete steps leading up to a pile of rubble. We kept driving, seeing something, something... And there it was. Summit Lake. To this day I'll never forget the feeling. I was in A-W-E. The lake was to our left, and to our right, another road leading up to a hill. And off to the side was an abandoned cabin, colors red and white. I could have urinated all over myself. My father stopped the car, and I practically jumped out of the backseat. With my camera in hand I started walking up the road but then noticed the signs stapled all over the poles. "POSTED", and "NO TRESPASSING" warning outsiders to stay away. I was dumbfounded. I knew what was on the other side of that hill. I felt it in my gut. Over that hill was where "Camp Arawak" had been, cabins and all. Before we went any further, I waded through the mud and up the incline to my right to take pictures of the abandoned cabin. Then I got back into the car. I told my father to drive up and over the hill, just to see what was there now. But as we approached, we heard a dog barking. So my father and my brother decided it was best to let barking dogs bark. PANSIES!

Then a local in her car pulled out of the entrance to Summit Lake. I got out and asked her if she knew that "Sleepaway Camp" had been filmed there, and if she knew what was on the other side of that hill. She was very nice but she didn't know anything. Then she drove away. I got back in the car and we drove down a little more, coming to the "Summit Lake Bulletin" board. I took a picture, and then we continued to drive around the lake, which is where we decided to park the car. There was another road off of the one we were on, and my father walked over the little hill to see what was on the other side. Me being the total dunce that I am never thought to follow him when he said he only saw an old building, not knowing what it was. In any case, I stood at the foot of the little hill and took pictures of the lake. Then I spotted another local who was fishing down by the water. I walked down and asked him if he knew anything about the former Camp Algonquin. Of course he pointed to where the dog was barking. Then I asked him if he knew that "Sleepaway Camp" had been filmed here back in '83. No. He didn't know. I let him continue on with his fishing, never realizing that where we had been standing was where the waterfront scenes for Sleepaway Camp had been filmed. We all got back into the car, and continued to drive around the lake. All of the original summer houses still circle the lake, and the property around the lake is totally private. We were by all means trespassing but the people we ran into didn't care. In fact, they were very polite. Before we came full circle, we passed large amounts of land covered in overgrowth, and wetlands. Later that day my father would tell me he had seen tennis courts hidden inside of it all.

Although the experiance was all to brief, and seemed to much like a dream, it is one I will never forget. I should have stayed longer, walked around the rest of the land, and by golly, we should have crossed over that hill to run that barking dog down. This was Sleepaway Camp territory. To hell with "POSTED" and "NO TRESPASSING" signs! But I suppose it was the respectful thing to do. If not for the locals who now live there, for Sleepaway Camp's sake.

I loved being in Argyle, and I loved being on Summit Lake. It was surreal to be where Sleepaway Camp was filmed. I managed to make it real. To step into my television screen, and become a part of the film. Or rather, have the film become a part of me.

A couple of years ago my cousin was dating a girl who lived in Argyle. One night my brother and I drove him to her house. It was just like I had remembered it, farmlands and rolling hills as far as the eye could see. I couldn't stop asking enough questions, "How does she get to school?", "How do they get their groceries?".. kind of questions. "They have to go into town." I thought it was wild. Living out in the middle of nowhere, having to go into town once a month to buy supplies. It excited me. And I was so sure we were close to Summit Lake, but it was dark and even if it had been light, my brother would have never attempted to find it. But the whole way there, and the whole way back, until we had left Argyle, I knew I was close to Sleepaway Camp.

This obsession for Sleepaway Camp has left me with a love for anything remotely having to do with camps. Lately while driving to work, we go by Central Park, and when I look into the wooded areas, I think of Sleepaway Camp. I decided this summer I want to pitch a tent in the backyard, and pretend I am at Sleepaway Camp. Now that summer is approaching, like the last three summers before, I want to take another trip to Summit Lake. I keep tabs on what property goes up for sale in Argyle, on Summit Lake, fantasizing that one day I will be able to afford it. I have my future all mapped out. I want to earn big bucks, purchase land on or around Summit Lake, and live as a hermit there until I die. I need that to happen or I expect I will lead a very empty life. More empty than it is now.

They say "Home is where the heart is". Well, my heart is with Summit Lake, and I can't wait to go home.

signed.