The woods go on forever along the winding road leading from Vanadzor to Alaverdi. White clouds hang from green trees along deep and shallow gorges.

Around a bend about 15 kilometers past Vanadzor and near the village of Vahangnadzor, a sign in Armenian greets travelers: “Welcome to Gugark Camp!”

Visitors are welcomed only after clearing details at a gate from which information is passed on to the grand matron of Gugark, Seyfulina Danielyan, who has been greeting guests and dismissing difficulties for 32 years on this ground in the lush Lori province about 100 kilometers north of Yerevan.

“In 1956, when Artyom Yerznkyan, then head of Railway Administration, passed through these parts, he said it was like a fairy tale setting, and decided to build a camp here for railway employees’ children,” says “Tikin” (grandma) Danielyan.

The roots of Gugark Camp go deeper than its current location, however. The camp was founded in Zghlghoch, a good distance from the current camp, and it belonged to railroaders, too. (In the Soviet era, different organizations had their camps, where in summer months, their employees’ children rested.)

“Because the camp did not have its own building, we settled in the schools of Spitak and Vanadzor. My camp activity started in one of those schools, too. Only after 1958, the camp had its own building,” says Danielyan, 72, who considers the camp to be her home.

She is a teacher by profession. Her summers of camp life stretch to the days when, as an eighth-grader, she was a camp counselor, then a group leader, and in 1978 became director and substitute mother to some 1,000 youngsters annually (after the Soviet Union’s collapse) who have spent from one week to 16 days here summer after summer.

After the Soviet Union collapsed, Danielyan privatized the camp.

“I came to the camp as a schoolgirl, and I grew old at the camp,” she says, not being able to hide her emotions.

One of the annexes of the camp suffered from the earthquake in 1988, and the camp stopped running in 1991-1993. Only after renovating and strengthening the building, the camp was reopened in 1994 and since, the sound of morning bugle has echoed along with the occasional passing train whistle to signal the ritual of camp life for Danielyan and the children who form ranks to start their days.

On this July morning about 200 campers join the ranks. The leaders of the detachments command: “Eyes right, attention!” The commanders of detachments start reporting. And then the detachments say their mottos:
“The camp is our home, and we are its owners.” The hymn of the Republic of Armenia is played, and the detachments’ leaders together raise the flag of the tricolor.

The Gugark season begins every June 10. It has five shifts of 16 days, during which up to 200 kids from 7-15 years old from different provinces of Armenia, but also from Russia and European countries come for a summer ritual that has hardly changed over the years, though letters home have been replaced by mobile phones by children whose first question whether there is internet.

Parents pay 5,000 drams (about $13) per child. (Discounts are given for more than one child from the same family.) Orphans attend free of charge, as do some disadvantaged village children. The camp does not have sponsors; all expenses are covered by attendance fees.

Many campers arrive by train from Yerevan, getting off at Vahangnadzor.

Lilit Khanamiryan, 25, has been one of the camp detachment members for many years, now she is a camp detachment leader.

“Of course, there is a great difference between this generation and our generation. At nights, lying in their beds, children visit Odnoklassniki website (social network – using their cell phones) or play with their cell phones. So we must be strong enough to accommodate their interests. This generation must be spoken to in its language,” Lilit says.

The message appears to be timeless, as Gugark gets many repeat campers.

Anahit Greyan, 14, is here for the third time, and Armine Babayan, 16, for the fourth time. Brothers Suren and Gevorg Nikoghosyan come here from Belgium for the second year and stay for four weeks. The veteran campers say that each year they look forward to the peculiar pleasures of camp life – bonfires, hikes, games, films, day-trips . . .

Things change – technology, trends, fashion . . . Some things don’t – having a mother figure to turn to year after year after year at Gugark . . .

The Grand Dame of the camp is asked how Gugark remains popular.

“I ask myself that question,” tikin Danielyan syas. “I cannot answer for sure – the site, warmth, approach? I often feel bad that I cannot afford doing many things for children because of financial problems, but I do everything within our power.”

Photo albums, telling the history of the camp, lay on a table. It is also Seyfulina Danielyan’s history, and it shows that she has, indeed, been an extended member of many families that now include parents, their children, and their children’s children for whom Gugarik has been a growing-up experience.

“Now these children are my grandchildren,” Danielyan says. “This is a wonderful generation; it is only necessary to understand them, as they grow up in this developed world”. She calls the camp a “planet of kindness”.

She turns from a conversation and checks on things in the kitchen, where bread and cookies are home made.

The director compares this camp season to those of the many days gone by.

She remembers how, during the Soviet era, camp food was allotted according to grams – careful that each amount was equal.

“I used to go to the kitchen and take the food secretly, and distribute them among children,” she recalls.

Over the years, Gugarik has modernized but held onto traditions that are a throwback to its Soviet origins – patriotic songs, bandannas around the necks identifying this or that group, morning exercise . . .

Danielyan is, herself, part of the tradition. She says there are no bad children, no bad parents, no bad teachers. “Even the worst child becomes kind here,” she boasts.

Her 32nd season will pass in a few weeks and nearly immediately she’ll start thinking about next year.

“All my dreams have come true,’ Danielyan says. “I hope that till the sunset of my own life, I will still manage to do many things for my large family. I do not imagine my life without the camp. Hundreds of children came and left. I live with the satisfaction that they get from here. The upbringing here is quite different, this is a family.”