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Volume 12
5/18/2009

“Paddle”

The storm whips through the night,
Thunder rumbles and quakes the earth.
The Northwinds howl and laugh at our face
Yet still our ship eats through the waves

Driven by the power of a tool
Designed by ancient gods,
A work of art
Meant to push the boat forwards
Through even the whitest of white water.

Oh, mighty paddle,
May your power, grace and beauty
Guide us through the currents
And bring us home…

-Hytham Hanna

Yes, our arms got accustomed to the paddling quite quickly. Our necks were a little stiff in the beginning, but got used to it. At this point, our teachers started to pull back, giving us more room to make our own decisions, find solutions, and plan the trip. The mornings came earlier, and that meant we could get up in the daylight, and also enjoy the longer evenings. Everyone enjoyed the calm river life with plenty of time to look for sites and set up camp. Dinner and even dishes were done before dark, and most days we got some free time. Some of us wrote letters or did small repairs. Others explored the areas around our campsites, meditated, or wrote their journals.

It is difficult to pick one campsite to write about, but Howard Island near Wells River was a magical place. The ground was covered with fiddleheads and the trees were hanging down from the bank and leaning over the silently flowing water. At night we sat on the logs singing and playing guitar till the g-string broke and the peg fell in the water! Aidan did a brave rescue dive, but the peg was lost. Aidan would probably die to save an instrument. We had a wild edible feast for dinner: garlic-fried fiddleheads, delicious dandelion-violets-trout lily salad, and steamed nettles. We also got to know a lot of other new edibles because they were so plentiful on that island. After dinner, to everyone’s joy, Miron and Aidan put up a rope swing. The swinging led the boys into a wrestling match in the mud, followed by a full body wash that they definitely needed. Before we went to bed we stood around the fire holding hands and sang some of our beautiful songs. It is said that there are fairies on the Island and whoever sleeps there will have extra sweet dreams.

“Paddle”

Oh paddle how dear you are to me,
Your strong thin blade slicing and cutting through the glistening water.
Making no splash when you enter or leave the water.
You’re strong and will not break and leave me paddleless.
You have carried me far and will keep carrying me forever.
What adventures we have been through on this trip!
Soon we will complete our first journey together
And have great memories.
- Jacob Tucker

Every day we went on a milk hunt. After reaching the Connecticut River, our craving for milk was so strong that every time we time saw a silo on the horizon, our spirits rose and we sent our milk hunters out to find a dairy farm. Too many times the milk hunters came back with the money still in their pockets and no milk to show for the efforts. The milk truck kept arriving before they did. What do you need money for anyway, if you can’t buy milk?

Finally, one rainy morning, we came to the Roby Farm in Piermont, New Hampshire. They have an farm store where they sell all kinds of products from local farms, like maple syrup, two dollar tomatoes, their own cheese that their son makes on the farm, plus their own beef, herbs, and jam. They also sell lambs’ yarn, pottery, quilts and antiques. Most important of all -- they sell fresh, raw milk! So we brought our granola with us and ate in the store, talking to Betty Sue and her son who runs the farm. He gave us a huge chunk of cheese. Apparently it didn’t taste like it was supposed to, so he wasn’t going to sell it. We enjoyed it tremendously.

Further down the Connecticut we visited Long Wind Farm, a series of Dutch greenhouses full of high quality, expensive tomatoes. Dave showed us around and told us about worms, composting, tomato illnesses and parasites. It was an interesting tour.

When we came to Norwich, we met the film crew. Camilla Rockwell and her “Fuzzy Slippers Productions” crew are creating a film about nature. They filmed us while we found a campsite, put up camp, and did our chores. We had arrived early so we had time to go running on the paths around the Montshire Children’s Science Museum. We also walked to the King Arthur Bakery hoping to see where our flour comes from. We learned that they do not grind it there, but we got a tour of the bakery with Sharon. It was fun to see a modern bakery that has kept older traditions such as sourdough baking and a wood-fired baking stove. King Arthur offers courses and workshops on all kinds of baking: pizza, pies and tarts, croissants, empanadas, pasta, flatbread and whole grains. That night we had wild leeks for the first time, such yummy little white leeks and leaves. We fried them up and served them with our pasta.

When we got to Windsor, we tied our canoes to the bank, got out with two empty pack baskets and headed for Mt. Ascutney, where we met the geologist Roger Haydock at the Weathersfield trailhead. He told us about Vermont and New Hampshire geology, how the rocks and mountains had been created of hardened magma many, many years ago, and how big rocks came here with the glaciers. He also told us how he fertilized the poison ivy in his garden by pouring ash on it every winter.

Our river journey raced towards its end. Why did it have to go so fast? From Mt. Ascutney we were off on our “solo” trips again. We traveled in small groups without our teachers for three days and nights. During that time we paddled the last part of the Connecticut, portaged through Bellows Falls, started poling up the Cold River, and ate ice cream at the Walpole creamery. Someone decided to cut his hair with his knife, and Dylan introduced a new way of hand washing by burning his hands on a rope swing.

The poling/lining/walking our boats up the Cold River was a wet experience. The fact that it rained did not bother us much, since we were soaking wet anyway. As we came into Alstead, Noah Elbers, the best baker in the Northeast, drove by with his daughter Greta and told us to come to their pizza night the next Tuesday. What excitement to look forward to!

From Alstead we had to do a whole day of portaging before we reached Lake Warren, where we would set up our tent for the last time before arriving back at the Kroka Base Camp. I was happy to see Saul Gotthilf Blocher, also known as “my father” (he volunteered for this honorary position because I am from Norway and don’t have a parent nearby.) He came and joined us as we walked the four-mile portage along Rte. 123. This was the day, more than any other, that we really got to feel the canoe gunnels chew into our shoulders and necks. Halfway up the road the red KROKA van appeared and to everyone’s surprise and joy it was Lily, Laurel, Hans and Misha. They were going on a trip to meet the Kimberton Waldorf School’s 8th grade for canoeing and they stopped to say hi. Surely this was a sign that we were getting close to Base Camp, close to home.

Our last camp, on an island in the middle of Lake Warren, was beautiful. We had Indian cucumbers as an aperitif before dinner and yummy pancakes in the morning. We took it easy because we heard that there would be a May Day celebration at Orchard Hill around noon.

We arrived at a green growing and blooming Kroka base camp, with all the animals out in the fields, tents everywhere and a new little jersey calf. It was amazing. We ran around to check everything out and look at all the changes. We jumped on the trampoline and said hi to Brita. Unfortunately, by the time we reached Orchard Hill the May celebration was over. But Noah was happy to see us and welcomed us to come back on Tuesday for the first pizza night of the season.

We are still in clean up mode and setting up our own camp in the woods behind the big yurt. With all the school programs happening now, it is great to create our own space and have our own outdoor kitchen. The logs are sitting on the parking lot, just waiting to be constructed into a timber frame structure. Soon enough we will be on a busy schedule with chores and lessons, so it’s nice to have a little breathing room. The sun is smiling on our tanned faces (and, if it was not for this update, I would already be lying in the grass looking at the clouds).

Haet godt saa lenge! Og mor Mette heime i gamle Noreg, eg er kjempeglad i deg og no sjaaast me veldig snart! Du har berre aa setja opp ein kompostdass til eg kjem heim, ellers kjem eg til aa grava eit hol i plenen!

For the Vermont semester, this is Ida, the scribe

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