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6/01/2006

With the rise of the fiddle head
And the bend of the silver maple
The flow of the river
Continues.

With the splash of a tail
And the dip of a paddle
The river people
Live.

In the flood plain
Among the rapids
Rises.
- Andy

Hello friendly people! I sit in the big yurt at Kroka’s base camp in Newfane, Vermont. We’ve done it. We’ve skied north and paddled back south and completed a circuit of the state. We have lived joyfully this past month and it has been one of the most amazing times of the whole semester. And now I will try to tell you what it has been like. Words are our means of communication in this culture. They only work because we all agree on there meanings. Combinations of words create more complex meanings and evoke feeling. How can I communicate what we have experienced over the past month? How can I find the right combination of words to make you feel, and understand, what we have felt and what we have seen? What does a rabbit do when a fox corners him? He will go straight at the fox.

The word is very powerful and I will go straight at the word, to harness its power. Let me begin. On May second, 2006, we gathered on the banks of the Clyde River, all the preparations of the past month over, and nothing but possibilities in front of us, like a white sheet of main lesson paper longing to be filled. We gathered around our beloved boat, the Chaga, and christened her by poring Chaga over her bow and bestowing many good wishes upon her. We cheered as her sleek blue hull touched the still waters, and floating on the dark Clyde she looked like a fish in the water or a bird in the air, she was at home. We then loaded our packbaskets and all the other necessities of our simple life into our boats. When everything was ready we took up our paddles and with a little thrill of excitement, we dipped their shining blades into the silky water and pulled the first stroke of our journey back south.

We paddled against the current for two days on the narrow Clyde, winding our way through its dead end routes and confused tributaries, lifting our boats over beaver dams, and learning how to handle our big canoes on the water. On the second day we portaged one and a half miles on railroad tracks from the Clyde to the Nullhegan River. It didn’t seem like a very big change to us but we were actually crossing the line from the Memphremagog basin, to the Connecticut River valley.

We were paddling the same way on the Nullhegan as on the Clyde but now the current was with us. The Nullhegan was beautiful. We relished in the sunny weather warming the water that still held the chill of early spring and took the hot portages around rocky rapids in good stride. We traveled for two days on the Nullhegan. And then when the river continued but we could not, due to the low water levels and sharp rocks, we took to the road for the final four miles to the mighty Connecticut River. We had lots of food, gear, and two heavy boats to carry down the hot sunny road and I saw that it was going to be a long day as I trudged down the road, sharp basket digging into my back. But we were given a Godsend in the form of on old shopping cart on the side of the road. At first the idea of rolling a boat down the road on a shopping cart seemed ridiculous but we talked each other into the idea, our sore shoulders putting in their hearty agreement. And it worked. A sight we must have been, pushing a big canoe down the side of the road while giant tractor-trailers thundered their way by. When we finally got all our gear, boats, and food to the end of the Nullhegan and beginning of the Connecticut we ate lunch on the banks of the river which would be our home. At our first camp on the Connecticut we were treated to a lesson on plants by Brian LaPierre, of Abenaki descent. He shared with us his amazing knowledge and relationship with plants. We walked through a sunny field on the banks of the Connecticut looking at plants as he imparted to us his belief that all plants have a spirit and you can form a relationship and communicate with plants. Brian has learned about plants from books and people, and has taken the practice a step furhter by asking the plants whether they would be good for an aliment. He left us with the message to spend more time with plants, getting to know their physical attributes as well as connecting with the plant in a meditation state.

Our life on the wide Connecticut has been fat and happy. We sing as we paddle and sleep under the bright summer stars. We have finished tanning the three deer hides, a project we started in January, and have each sewn a pair of moccasins out of the soft, butter colored buckskin. We have time to stop and gather wild foods and we fill our bellies with their goodness. None of us know what we did during the winter without the good foods that are springing up on the banks of the river.

The Wild Garden
Curling and unfurling, green shoots everywhere.
Bright bursting buds, open smiling like a baby.

Snap, snip, snap.
Green fiddleheads fill my basket.
Spry and springing, bitter dandelions cover the grassy ground.
My bare feet plod on, wrapped in the songs of spring.

Arise fuzzy nettles, dark and sleek,
Spicy wild leaks and smooth sour knotweed.
Our arms are filled with an abundance of nourishing life

I step back through the blossoming silver maples.
Rejoicing
My heart reaches out singing gratitude to
The wild garden
- Lily

So life goes on the river. We have seen mink, close enough to touch with a paddle, many bald eagles, we’ve been chattered at by the river otters, and have been living with the beaver. One night we silently watched a beaver for half an hour as he swam up and down the bank sniffing and slapping his tail at us. We lived with the song of the rain and the dance of the clouds. The flow of the river and opening of buds. We lived with the river, not on it, and I felt at harmony with the world around me, as though we were meant to be on the river.

The dark folds of night surround me.
They press in on all sides, holding me.
Like a mother holding her child.

Inky black below, quiet, a plane of dark silver.
Soft darkness at my sides, breaking to
A jagged edge where it meets the sky.

A wall to the heavens is above
The sky’s hands cover the face of the earth
Pale moonlight seeps through its fingers

When the paddle dips, it touches another world
And drops a piece of myself into it.
I am peace
-Tom

As the day began light started glowing from behind the hills to the east. A slight wind picked up and we were able to make a sail from our tarp. We glided across the water out of the night and into the new day.

On May 12th we had to bid Chris and Ashirah farewell for the next five days. They were leaving to go to their homestead in Maine to plant their garden and we were continuing on without them. Life without them went much as it had. Chris and Ashirah are definitely part of our community but in some ways they are also on the outside, separated from the students. So it was nice to have time to be together, we got some issues worked out and when they came back I believe we were a much stronger community.

On the seventeenth of May we came to Y.E.S., the Youth Environmental Summit. YES is a conference run by and for high school students. The purpose of YES is to form ties with other young people who are concerned about the environment. We were going to YES as presenters and participants. On the first day of YES we were honored to give a wilderness living lesson to all the participants of YES. A lesson about what being connected to nature had to do with being concerned about the environment, we shared this task with the Vermont Wilderness School and Earthwalk. The next two days were filled with workshops from guest teachers. From wetland ecology to a biodiesel workshop, to permaculture to a workshop on electricity conservation, these workshops were very interesting and we are very grateful to have been able to attend. The best part of YES however was the community there. We had good conversations and began forming friendships with many other participants, and everyone came down to the water to see us off when we left. We thank everyone at YES for their hospitality.

From YES we left for the southern part of the Connecticut in small group solos. In the group that took the Kasha were Hannah, Lily, Colin, Tommy, Evan, and Hans. In the group that took the Chaga were Andy, Daniel, Tom, Paul-Ivan, Sarah and Ilene. These solos were a time of celebration for me. A time to reflect on what we had learned and spend time with the people we had been with for the past five months. On the first day of our solos we met up with the other group and Chris, Ashirah, and Stefan in Hanover, NH, to celebrate Stefan’s birthday. Each group left with a wonderful party favor, a whole chicken that was greatly enjoyed that night. The current was moving amazingly fast that week we had our solos, and both the Chaga group and the Kasha group enjoyed some great floating days, visiting and reading while moving at an amazing pace. We celebrated the last days of expedition life with good food. The Kasha group found a perfect pumpkin floating down the river and the Chaga found an island carpeted with delicious wild leeks.

On the 24th we met up again to climb Mt. Ascutney, the highest mountain in the Connecticut River Valley, with Roger Haydock. We had had a lesson on geology with Roger way back during the skiing expedition, at Taylor Farm, and this was a continuation of that lesson. We walked six miles from the river to the trailhead of Ascutney and then hiked up the mountain, stopping at points of geological interest.

At the top of the mountain was a spectacular view, we could almost see the full circle of our voyage. Thank you, Roger, for sharing your knowledge with us. On the way back down the mountain we harvested straight, small spruce poles which would be our means of propulsion on the West River.

On May 27th we met at the mouth of the West River in Brattleboro for the final journey to Kroka base camp. Misha, Lynne, the two Mathiases, Danya, and Sabatchka met us and paddled a little bit up the West with us. Alex and Tom Clynes from National Geographic Adventure also joined us. It was amazing to see the familiar land marks and know we had come all that way and were back where we started. The shallow rocky West has a strong current which was moving the opposite direction we wanted to go. The answer was poling. We had learned poling techniques from Kevin Slater a month ago and now had to put those skills to use. We had five people in one of the big boats with poles and one person ruddering with a paddle. We muscled our way up the river, pushing against rocks on the bottom with our poles. Before each rapid we had to read the water carefully and choose the best route through the rock infested waters. We learned that eddies were our best friend, you can find a safe haven behind a rock while a raging current is on either side. Poling is a really amazing skill. We learned to respect the river and we felt we knew the West better then we had known the Connecticut because we had to be more in tune with its song or we would be swept down stream. The days were hard on the West but unbelievably fun. We laughed, worked, and sang during the day. And we slept hard at night. And then it was the end. First the last campsite of the expedition, then the last meal, then the last mile and we were there. At the bridge where we were taking out to go to Kroka. We had a big group hug and went for a last swim before hoisting the boats and packbasket to our shoulders. We were all very excited as we walked the last three miles to Kroka, pointing out land marks to each other and singing songs. And then we were there. We were really there. At the big yurt where we had lived and planned our first expedition. There were the barn and the garden. We were there where we had started four months ago. We had skied north, and paddled south. As a community we were unrecognizable from what we had been all that time ago. And we were all different people than when we had started. We were there. At Kroka. I don’t think there is any combination of words in the English language that will evoke in you the feelings we felt when we completed our journey. But perhaps you can understand if you put yourself into our shoes and think back in your life to all the amazing things that have happened to you, and just feel. We are happy. Happy beyond what I can possibility articulate.

-For the Vermont Semester, this is Tom.

The river she is flowing, flowing and growing.
The river she is flowing, down to the sea
Mother carry me, a child I will always be
Mother carry me, down to the sea.
- unknown

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