In the belly of booming Mountain Top, down a dirt road few notice as they zip along 309, you can find an oasis called Camp St. George. It’s a spit of forest bordered by back yards, yards that probably fade into unexplored forest for most homeowners.

If they do explore, they might stumble upon the cleared spots of trimmed grass, the grotto sheltering a statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary guarded by a pair of stone lambs, or the remnant of a spring-fed swimming pool, a rusty ladder that once dropped into the cold water now disappearing into dirt and rock overgrown with weeds.

Here you can catch the remains of what had long been a widespread force for good in our region: the indomitable spirit of parish volunteers. And while the whole camp is a solid example, once a year that spirit is showcased in a family picnic that one attendee last Sunday dubbed “Wilkes-Barre’s best kept secret.”

The camp still has a handful of cabins, former sleeping quarters for brave youngsters sent for a few days of character building. Now the aging shacks are dark storage space. There is a volleyball net in a clearing just big enough to let a strong hitter serve one into the trees. There are a few swing sets, and short trails that can take you to bushes of wild raspberries.

The family picnic uses two roomy pavilions with concrete floors, sturdy tables, electric lights, kitchens and restrooms. An open-air Mass is celebrated in one, followed by five hours of food in the other. The menu starts with hamburgers, hot dogs and macaroni and cheese, later adding pork barbeque and soup, then ending with corn on the cob, clams and shrimp cocktail. Eat all you want, all day for $10, a bottomless desert table included from the start.

Power of community threatened

A glossy flier explains that Camp St. George was spawned by a branch of the fraternal Knights of St. George, formed at St. Boniface in 1906. By 1918 they had set up a boys camp near Wapwallopen Creek, then acquired the Mountain Top land in 1925, initially constructing some of the buildings out of old railroad boxcars.

It is a wonderful reminder of the way religion joined us, of the power of parish communion that built so many churches and schools and institutions in our area, many raised by men and women volunteering their muscles and time after finishing a full day’s work, or donating spare pennies from lean family budgets, confident it would be well spent to the benefit of all.

That power of parish community increasingly feels like a once-unbreakable chain turned to rust. St. Boniface Church merged with St. Patrick, the two sharing a pastor. St. Boniface School closed, which in turn meant a loss of volunteers who had run the annual bazaar in the church parking lot. The Knights of St. George disbanded, turning the camp over to the parish.

A small group of hardworking volunteers keeps the camp neat and usable, offering to rent the space for day events, but next year St. Boniface is set to close for good, and the fear here is that a cash-strapped diocese will sell it to the highest bidder, most likely a developer searching for a place to put more upscale homes for urbanites migrating up the mountain in quest of relative seclusion.

It’s a reasonable fear, one that should never be fulfilled. This land could be a rallying point for the important concept of stewardship. The diocese should hold it up as a reminder of the great things we can accomplish with that spirit of parish community.

Because that spirit is really the area’s “best kept secret.”

About the Author

Mark Guydish covers education for the Times Leader. Reach him at (570) 970-7161 or mguydish@timesleader.com.

A West Hazleton native, I worked as a service technician repairing electronic mailing and shipping systems, a bike shop owner and an Emergency Medical Technician (among other jobs) before landing a reporter job at the Times Leader Hazleton Bureau in 1995. I started by covering primarily politics in Hazleton City and outlying municipalities, eventually became "social issues" team leader in the Wilkes-Barre office with the accent on education, and headed the Hazleton Bureau for a spell before returning to full-time reporting, my preferred position. I'm an avid cyclist and rode across the country in 1990, a trip of more than 5,000 miles from New Jersey to Seattle and down the coast to San Francisco. Years in the Boy Scouts made me a life long backpacker and camper, and I've yet to find a better way to enjoy the quiet lure of winter snow than cross country skiing.

Mark also writes a regular blog for timesleader.com.

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