Mishpacha contributors share accounts of those special summers disconnected from the grind

Location: Kiryat Shmona

Years: 2014–2022

I’m not an outdoorsy kind of girl by any stretch of the imagination, but ten years ago I was young and still adventurous enough that when my husband of two years suggested we purchase a tent and go camping for several days during bein hazmanim I didn’t laugh in his face, or cry, or say, “But we have a six-month-old baby!” I just went along for the ride, figuring we could scratch it off the bucket list early on and then fill the empty spaces with things like Dead Sea spas and five-star hotels (yeah, right).

But the thing is, once we pitched our tent in Kibbutz Dafna, four miles east of Kiryat Shmona, I kind of fell in love. There’s something about living outdoors, at least for a few days — working hard to set up your sleeping quarters, grilling your food, and schmoozing with absolute strangers — that just nourishes the soul.

The next summer, we were back. This time we went to Kfar Blum, a kibbutz in the Hula Valley. Our baby was a-year-and-a-half old and could enjoy the nearby dairy farms, gentle boat rides, and splashing in the Kinneret.

With the following year’s chazakah, it was clear: Summer was now synonymous with camping in Kiryat Shmona, where during the days, we’d tour the north and bask in the beauty of the endless mountains, and at night, we’d sing and tell stories and grill more hotdogs and wings than we could eat.