BOW, the last chapter

Why is this guy frowning?  Because it's chow time and the din of 90 women all talking at once is deafening.  "Waluhili" means 'land of the beautiful maidens.' It doesn't tell you that the maidens are loud.

This isn't the last you are going to hear about Becoming an Outdoor Woman, it's just the last you're going to hear for now about my most recent weekend there. There's still stories to tell. If you want to know how to make your own BOW memories, click here.

There's Denny, who walked the entire Appalachian Trail with his new bride.  Six and a half months of walking, with side jaunts the total walking came to around 2700 miles.  Yes, you read that right, 2700 miles, carrying packs. That's a honeymoon you'll remember forever.

There's Dianne, who has been trying with her friend Debbie to attend BOW for three years now. They finally made it, but they almost didn't. Dianne had recently undergone hip surgery, but she was rearing to go mountain biking and more. Debbie was torn between BOW and the OU-Texas game.  I understand her struggle. Now Dianne has friends who can go kayaking with her, and Debbie knows that OU can win a game without her in attendance.

There's the software engineer, Ann, a self-purported non-outdoor woman who tried a BOW weekend once just because it was close by. And then did a BOW caving weekend to push past her slight claustrophobia. And now she's in her sixth year and she regularly volunteers, going out of her way to help the participants.

Then there's Bambi. Quiet-spoken Bambi had a story that got me all choked up. This is where Bambi camped:

When Bambi was sixteen, her father passed away. She went up north to visit her uncle, with whom she had camped several summers, in tipis. In the midst of her grieving, the uncle said to Bambi, "this summer you'll build your own tipi." When she demurred, he persisted. So Bambi spent the summer cutting the canvas, sewing the pieces together on a treadle sewing machine, cutting and peeling her poles, carving and painting the dowels. And when the summer was over, Bambi had survived her grief, she possessed an item that demonstrated her uncle's caring, nurturing nature, and she had built a memorium to her father.

That was the tipi she pitched in the meadow at BOW. Each time she raises her tipi she remembers her father; it is testimony to the legacy of love imparted by her uncle.

Bambi has taken her knowledge, skill, and the sacredness of her tipi and created a legacy for the women of BOW. A large tipi skin was discovered at the camp, and in time Bambi pulled together a group who trekked to southeast Oklahoma to cut poles for it.  It was raining.  They used draw knives to peel the poles. They were wet, and sore, and blistered, but they persevered, and brought the finished poles back to Camp Waluhili to cure.

And this weekend, months and months after discovery and blisters, another group took that canvas and those poles, and with Bambi's gentle direction, raised this huge tipi. Their pride was priceless.

That's the legacy of BOW-one group achieves, and it contributes to the success of another. Students become teachers. Participants come, and come back again, bringing sisters and mother and daughter and friends with them.

My deepest gratitude to the women of BOW. For the many volunteers who give hundreds of hours so that others will have a positive experience; for the instructors and your patience and caring; for everyone who shared your stories and allowed me to tell them here.  Thank you.