Jones Gulch, a September tradition

In the 2000s, Jones Gulch hosted only the seniors’ retreat and which was across the road from the main campground at the ropes course. (Now, Jones Gulch hosts both the freshmen and the seniors—the latter continue the tradition of sleeping under the stars.)  Now that the Middle School grades have 72 students and the Upper School classes will be 90 students, we can’t all fit at Jones Gulch. The other grades have their own retreat adventures at different sites, including hiking, kayaking, surfing, whitewater rafting, and more.  

Back in the Loveland years at Jones Gulch, the main camp, featuring a dining hall, a swimming pool full of cold water, athletic fields, an archery blind, a band shell, numerous cabins, and Simcock Lodge were all part of the retreat experience. Students were divided into groups of three or four from grades 6-10 and assigned a cabin, along with a teacher. The idea was to make a few friends from other grades right at the start of the year. Juniors spent the night in Simcock Lodge discussing what it meant to be an upperclassman, and seniors hiked up to the Coyote Bowl to spend the night camped outside together. Many alums remember the hikes in the dark with Nancy Rosenthal leading the way. Up at the Indian Bowl, sleeping bags were rolled out, s’mores were roasted and consumed, and guitars came out for group singing. In the daytime, there were summer reading discussion groups (one year, we all read Hunger of Memory together and then Richard Rodriguez came to talk to us about it; another, it was 1984); swimming; sports of all sorts; nature walks in the Buckeye Grove; Blue Sox vs. White (and later Red) Sox games; barbecues; campfires and skits.  There was even a climbing wall and a giant pole to shimmy up. We sang, we laughed and we greeted each other after the long summer by holding contests to see who could learn the most new student names. School didn’t really start until the Monday after we returned from Jones Gulch!

photo: art teacher Jim Garrison in the hat playing hacky sack (or performing some strange dance) from the Jones Gulch retreat in 1983.