Blog #7: River Expedition

Introducing…

Spring Big Jobs!

Our two navigators include Grant, who charted our course along the river, and Samuel, who will take charge of the lake navigation. The duo is enthused to work together and dive into the details of compasses and charts.

Mapping out our entire spring expedition

Connor has accepted his role as boat manager with a sense of pride for our water vessels—seven Esquif canoes and on the lake, our Scottish fishing boats and Cornish pilot gig: Resilience, Perseverance, and the Jimmy D. Alongside the maintenance of the boats, the manager of all water gear is a position given to Laszlo. All equipment (PFDs, paddles, helmets, and wetsuits to name a few) that needs to be issued out falls under his domain as well as oversight of its proper use.

The position of energy manager goes to Gil. Although the stove may weigh less in the springtime, it carries equal importance.

Zoe will take on the role of medic alongside hygiene, swapping big jobs with Serena, who will now manage food on trail. Our wannigan manager, Hyim, reluctantly showed his enthusiasm for the kitchen organization job but has since grown to embrace the responsibility. Nevertheless, the wannigan continues to remain the heaviest load during portages. Our logistics manager, Charly, is the girl with the lists and brings organization to our resupplies, academia, and life in general. Her love for mountain biking fuels her work repairing the bikes that will bring us home through the Green Mountains on the final leg of spring expedition.

Packing out all of the food for an expedition is exhausting!

As we no longer have snow to melt into drinking water, we now have Ila to guide us to sources of freshwater. Understanding the gravity of this job, Ila confesses to have been nervous taking on her role but quickly took to filling water bottles from the filter and sharing this gift of the earth amongst the group.

At Northwoods, Alessio furiously began sewing the seams of our green tarp that protects our stove and academic work from the elements. As sewing manager, he facilitates group gear projects as well as personal repairs. Julian’s inquisitive mind has been occupied with the challenge of setting our tarp and four tents, providing us with shelter and a dry place to sleep. The two are partners in crime when it comes to photography and artistically capture our expedition by camera.

Alessio- champion of the sewing machine

I, Sharon, have the privilege of documenting our spring expedition and officially introduce the latest blog post. Stay tuned for more!

Your humble scribe...

The definition of white water, the anatomy of a canoe, and our lessons on hydrology have brought us to mentally accept the expedition we prepared to embark on, but it was not until we were all suited up and paddling in the Clyde River that it became real. After a weekend with our loved ones, sharing the joys and hardships of living in a close community, we had serious work ahead of us. Takedown of camp at Honey Hollow, a few trust-building exercises and gear pack-outs later—we were nearly ready to put in our canoes.

Monday morning we finalized our plans and loaded up our gear in sea worthy blue barrels and dry bags. As for our personal gear, the spring season calls for attention to potentially hypothermic conditions. Bodies of water retain their temperature longer than the land, so even when spring is lived out in warm winds and sunshine, the water continues to reflect the cold winter. But as the saying goes, there is no such phenomenon as inclement weather only inappropriate clothing. So there we were from head to toe in woolen hats, long underwear, long sleeves, and sweaters. Over our darn tough socks we wore neoprene water shoes and over our layers, thick 5mm wet suits. Some opted for neoprene gloves, all chose to don paddling jackets and rain pants.

Zoe and Sam, taking an elegant line down the river

Morgan and Hannah sent us on our way and then drove our gear to Clyde pond—our final destination for the day. We certainly appreciated the lighter load, as it was only our third day of paddling together. For some it was only the third day of picking up a paddle and traveling by canoe- ever! Some of our premonitions about paddling and reservations were put to rest once we got out on the water. There is something beautifully reassuring about the buoyancy of water.

Even though the rescue protocol was debriefed back at Northwoods, we sure didn’t expect to have to employ the rescue ropes as soon as we did! In the words of sir Laszlo Reed, “It all started with the simple drop of a paddle.” It wasn’t tough rapids we were traveling through, but still he dropped it anyway. Quickly reaching for the spare, Laszlo and Sharon caught an eddy anticipating the oncoming rapid. In our haste, we were oblivious to the dead tree not five feet down stream, and the insidious strainer that threatened our canyon canoe. Peeling out, Sharon came into contact with a limb of the tree, promptly swamping the red canoe. Laszlo then found himself drifting down the river, colliding with every rock and obstacle along the way; while Sharon immediately swam to shore, paddle in hand. Reaching out for the canoe, Laszlo spotted what he thought was salvation. “Two friends, Samuel and Julian with a rope each, ready to save me from the swirling vortex of the water.” A wave of dismay washed over him as the first rope wrapped itself around a tree, and the second landed five feet upstream, completely out of reach. Laszlo could only helplessly watch the lifelines recoil and the would-be first responders sprint down stream in a futile attempt to out run the Clyde River.

As he came around the bend, he greeted the next set of rescuers with a free hand, the other still clutching the upturned canoe with white knuckles. But Hyim’s rope was downstream of the paddler, whose knees acted like magnets, attracting every precipice and rocky crag. Around the final bend, Alessio and Misha sprang into action, the last throw rope hit its mark, and again in haste Laszlo scrabbled toward the symbol of safety—abandoning the canoe in desperation. Climbing out he was met with the words, “You idiot why did you drop the canoe?!” Alessio and Misha jumped into their canoe and into the unfolding catastrophe, emerging with the lost boat as heroes. The only partners who remained dry that day were Gil and Serena, who rescued the paddle that started the whole thing. Our time spent in the water swimming when we should have been paddling did not stop there, but our first day certainly met the trip’s quota of action-packed rescues.

Grant and Julian, braving the white water

Charly and Gil- crossing Lake Memphremagog

Arriving to camp was in some ways shocking. No longer were we traveling through untouched wilderness, or where very few have left their mark, but on heavily trodden campsites, littered with vestiges of human consumerism. Yet the choices made by those before us could not taint the unique, mystic call of the loon or tarnish the joyful slap of a beaver’s tail. They do not fade the color of the sunset, or keep the winds from blowing. Instead, what we found prompted us to act by forcing us to finding durable spaces to sleep on. We cleaned up the fire pit, anticipating future use, and picked up trash and recycling to properly dispose of later. Throughout the trip, we continued our Leave No Trace practices, and did our best to clean up the put-in’s and take outs along the Northern Forest Canoe Trail. In French, the word portage comes from the verb portager, meaning, “to carry.” The next day we learned the physical demands placed on the body…and what it actually means to carry all seven canoes and the entire group’s gear from take out to put in. As Samuel, Julian and I walked along, we jokingly came to the conclusion that the skill of balancing a canoe on one’s shoulders relies not on the strength of the individual, but his or her tolerance for pain. Le Grand Portage spans 6 miles, leading travelers from one watershed to the next. What could have been 18 miles there and back and there again, was greatly reduced, courtesy of two gentlemen working with a truck nearby.

Studying the signs along the river

Charly- ready to take on the next rapid!           

Passing into Canada by way of Lake Memphremagog, we found the serenity of gentle waves quietly lapping the shores of smooth black stones. After a day of paddling through a series of towns, we had finally made it to open water when the rain started to set in. Searching for camp became a mental push as the cold rain soaked our group’s morale. Thankfully, our second try led us to Long Island, a nature preserve and home to all kinds of wildlife, including deer that most likely venture across the ice in the winter to graze.

Sharon shows focus as she voyages onward

Laszlo- looking strong in the solo canoe

            Following dinner, our evening meeting was interrupted by the harsh sound of the grate coming off of the spring stove. In one swift motion, Misha swung the titanium into the center of our circle. Charly and I looked at each other with wide eyes, completely taken aback. What was going on? Misha simply continued our discussion, insistent that a circle was not complete without a proper fire circle. So we talked into the night, sharing our ideas on friendship, sense of place, and connection- all themes interwoven through our latest piece of literature, Where the Rivers Flow North. Misha talked to us on the importance of connecting community to nature and the discovery of self. He echoed the words of Grandfather who encouraged going out into the wilderness when things aren’t clear to hopefully return with the answers. Grant shared with the group about his mentor, Chris Knapp, “who taught me that the woods are not a place to escape from the world, but rather a place to go to understand and connect with it.”

Grant and Ila, weaving their way down the river

            Our days white water canoeing were interspersed with days on flat water, but we craved the adrenaline rush of navigating our boats around obstacle courses of rock, logs, and once- even rebar and cement. The clarity and focus that comes with this sport brought out the best in our teamwork. Julian made the comparison of white water to that of the satisfactory level of downhill skiing without a backpack- a sentiment we all agreed with.

Hyim feeling victorious

At the takeout- ready to row!