Blog #6- Spring Interlude

March 27th :

         Now that we have arrived at the Northwoods Stewardship Center, we can ease back into our basecamp rhythm. Over the course of the next few days we will be transitioning out of winter and preparing for spring, leaving behind anything that we will no longer need. While helping out with service around campus, we also began taking our Wilderness First Aid (WFA) Course. As we feel winter slowly loosening her grip, we will shed most of the equipment that we used for the last three months including skis, the winter stove (lovingly named Princess), and our big Osprey backpacks.

April 3^rd:

         We successfully completed the Wilderness First Aid course in two days! The weekend covered important information about how to care for others in wilderness environments and required us to employ our acting skills. Suddenly Laszlo was a nine year old with a rash, while Zoe and Grant aged forty years and were demonstrating different signs of a heart attack. My personal favorite was to have sever hypothermia and lay in the warm sun while my fellow students gently carried me and wrapped me in a “burrito” blanket. Walking away being certified in WFA was a real feeling of accomplishment. Most students anticipate taking more advanced wilderness medicine courses in the future, and continuing to learn more about the amazing capabilities of the human body.

[Submit your own caption to winter.semester@kroka.org- the best caption wins a prize!]

Koviashuvik- Temple, Maine: April 4^th:

         We walked down the winding snowy path, lugging our barrels—entering the story, helping to write the next chapter of pack baskets and craftsmanship. For the next two weeks, we will learn the art and work of homesteading: leeching acorns, working with hides, taking care of animals, maintaining a root cellar, starting plants in a green house, and so much more. The Knapp family [Chris, Ashirah, Owen (age 9), and Bonnie Bee (age 6)] welcomed us graciously and showed us the beautiful world they create living sustainably.

Ila, learning to process different kinds of foods that the Knapp family grew/harvested

         Intrinsic to the Knapp family lifestyle is the reverence for education and living with an open mind. Almost every morning we read from the poetry of A.R. Ammons, Wendell Berry, and Wes McNair. We could count on a different writing prompt and conversation topic every day, encouraging us to communicate with others. The following poem was inspired from Walt Whitman’s:

I am singing a song of peace

though I am dressed for war

I am singing a song of relief

for those who only know darkness

I am singing a song of brotherhood

for the men and women who fight by my side

I am singing a song of sacrifice

for my friends and loved ones

I am singing a song of freedom

for the people that live on this beautiful land

I am singing a song of preservation

for the generations to come

-Connor

April 7^th:

Today was a generally drippy day of on and off rain. Southeast wind gave way to the call of the Queen of the Southwest. Pushing and pulling clouds across the atmosphere, she briefly opened the sky to a royal blue and the unmistakable sun. Only for a moment did we bask in the glory of the sun’s rays before the clouds rolled back over, closing the trap door. Late at night the wind picked up to a roar.

April 8^th:

We awoke to the sound of new birds and with each day the white blanket of snow melted more and more. Spring, unveiled before our eyes.

Studying on the only patch of ground where there wasn't snow!

         Today marked Connor’s birthday and our chance to head into town for a contra dance. After we were all dressed up, we drove into town and walked into a small building alive with the energy of dance and song. Music of the Franklin County Fiddlers filled the room while stomping feet danced in time. The contra was a small gathering of all ages; a beautiful way to meet the people around us.

Making our way to town for the contra dance

Skirts spin and move gently like falling flower petals

Bare feet stomp and step across the wooden floor, in time with the music,

another kind of percussion

An old woman swings me around, smiling and laughing with her twinkling eyes

Energy bursts from the room, an explosion of happiness

You can find a special kind of love sashaying through a tunnel of hands and smiling faces.

-Charly

Swing your partner...

April 10^th:

The magic of delicious acorn pancakes begins with processing and separating the shells from their nut. One of our morning chores involved cracking the shells off of the collected acorns with the Dave Bilt machine. Samuel shared with the group about the satisfaction of turning the crank of the machine, while watching the nuts and shells pour out into the wooden box below. During our morning discussions, we hand separated the remaining fragments of shell from the nuts.

Chris teaching proper acorn de-shelling methods

Chris teaching us how to use a froe  

Once the acorns were no longer attached to shells, they were run through a grinder and sifted by hand into their size categories: Chunks, grits, and flour.

Pulling off any remaining bits of shell from last year's acorn crop

After the acorns are thoroughly separated and sifted, the raw flours and chunks still needed to be leeched. By placing the nuts under a PVC pipe, a steady stream of water continually permeates and soaks the acorn, releasing the strong tannins that give the nut its sour, chalky flavor that Connor mistakenly sampled. The leaching time varies depending on the size of the acorn but the only way to tell fully if it is ready is to taste the acorn. If any of the sour flavor remains, they need to be leached for longer. After all is leached, it is time to turn this beautiful raw material into something absolutely delicious. We mixed our acorn flour with a little bit of oat flour, some raisins, and the very maple syrup we helped collect and boil. The cookies were absolutely to die for.

April 13^th:

How To: Create your own pack basket

Ever see a wild Krokus transporting their wares in beautifully woven ash baskets? Ever wanted one of your own? Well, after sharing the following secrets of ash pounding, you can!

Working with the brown ash weavers

       
Every basket starts with a tree. A healthy brown ash can be identified by a full crown, light caramel coloration and spongy texture of bark. In our search, we studied the grove of trees near Koviashuvik and tried to guess the age and number of growth rings of the various brown ash mixed amongst the forest. With help of a chainsaw, we felled two and brought them back to our pounding stations. In order to turn a solid log of wood into thin strips of basket material, it’s important to separate summer and winter growth rings. The separation process consists of scoring wood with Opinel knives, swinging down on the logs with metal hammers and wooden mallets, and singing songs to keep a cadence. Once the ash is pounded satisfactorily it peels off in beautiful strips, ready to be stripped and split. The ash trees we selected were well hydrated with impressively thick growth rings, adding one step to our process: splitting. In order to work with the stripped wood we had to split the growth rings in half, they were now thin enough to become future weavers for our baskets.

Sharon working carefully on the base of her basket

        

April 15^th:

This afternoon we met Grandfather Ray, the influential mentor of Chris and Ashirah. His story is one of education and growth, of finding what it means to live in harmony with all things, of trusting his heart and aligning it with the heartbeat of Mother Earth. As the student of Grandfather Joe since the age of 8, Ray shared with us stories of woodworking, patience, and listening. Some of the lessons he left with us that resonated with the group are as follows:

1.     You can’t do anything about anyone else. All you can work with is the person in the mirror staring back at you.

2.     Every day you have a choice to be happy, productive, quiet, mindful…only you can change your attitude

3.     When things aren’t working, stop. Take time to find out why. Take as much time as you need.

Grandfather’s refreshing wisdom expressed the hope he had for healing the relationship between people and planet.

Morning class

April 17^th:

Today we left Koviashuvik with the exciting news that we had been given a generous gift to celebrate all the recent and upcoming birthdays. Thank you Kim Martin! Our new navigators led the way to brick oven pizza in Gorham, NH. We ate our picnic dinner at the grassy park in the center of town, enjoying the weather and each other’s company. Kicking off our shoes, some started a game of Frisbee while others explored the jungle gym.

Happy Birthday to you all!

Charly March 28th

Samuel April 5th

Julian April 7th

Connor April 8th

Alessio April 18th

And we are now back at Northwoods. The landscape has changed as the snow is now all melted. We now hear the soothing sound of running water and watch the buds of spring begin to unfold.

This final blog was a collaborative effort of both Sharon’s work and my own. For the following blogs to come, Sharon will be picking up the reigns and, to quote our navigator Hyim, “riding north into the setting sun.”

Thanks for reading,

Ila and Sharon

The group with their beautiful baskets

Editor’s Note: Students are now off on their spring expedition! In a few days they will be arriving at the head of Lake Champlain, after an exciting 8 days of the river. We will hear more from them as the weather warms and they make their way south!

Circled together, enjoying our meal

Knife sharpening class with Chris

Spotted through the cracks in the second floor: students hard at work!

Blog #5- Uapishka- Land of the Northern Lights, Wolves, and Spruce

Our beautiful camp at Lac Verge d'Or

Oh tent

Home sweet home

Oh how I missed you

You with your green floor and off-white walls

You and your pulsing heart

Glowing red heart

You and your fresh needlely smell

Oh how great it is to be home

--Hyim

The glow of the tent at night 

Journey

How you call me so

How you ruffle my feathers

Entice me with your wicked days

Your stormy nights

I long to be in your company

Thinking, feeling, being.

When morning sun rises

I think of what you give to me,

Growth of a different variety

Taste of all the senses,

Peace when none can be found anywhere else.

You tear me in two,

Always calling for me to come,

But making me miss the warmth of home.

How beautiful you look

How understanding you are

Loving you may one day be my demise.

--Alessio

Playing in the powder

The sun rose in the east and with it Uapishka shook night from her back. We felt her cold, icy winds pierce our faces. We felt the frigid air freezing our breath against our neck warmers, clinging to our eyelashes, and painting our hair snow-white. Her cold made us long for warmth and shelter away from the bitter wind that seeped in through our clothes. Her cold woke us up and reminded us how to have gratitude for her sunlight, which poured down over our skin and lay on our cheeks like a million kisses. From a world of black and white, the rising sun transforms the landscape into vibrant blue bird skies and the deep dark green of the spruce forest.

Laszlo leads the way up the frozen waterfall

Ila, making her way up the steep slopes

Remote Uapishka sat in numbing silence, a silence so deep you could hear it ringing in your ears.  Her land, so untouched by humans, was awake with mystery; expanses of hidden secrets waiting to be revealed around every turn. Adventure coursed through her veins and we accepted the invitation to join her dance. We climbed high and low and she began to remind us how to live.

Heading up onto the plateau

Traversing on our way to Lac Magique

In the winter months so few people come to Uapishka. We were surprised again and again when we saw any signs of other humans. As we moved farther east, it became less and less likely that we would run into other travelers. The only road that passes by the western mountains is the Quebec-Labrador Highway, which stretches for hundreds of miles with barely enough services to bring vehicles from one gas station to the next. The eastern mountains are even further removed, and are very rarely visited because of their inaccessibility. There aren't even names for the ponds and lakes on any guide or map; for navigational purposes we came up with a few of our own: Kidney Bean Lake, Sleeping Bag Lake, Fish Pond, Mermaid Lake, and the Bear Claw Lakes. In this remote eastern range snowmobile tracks were the only sign of humans other than us ever having visited. On one special day, however, we heard a loud noise while crossing over “Harpoon Lake.”  As we searched for the source, a bush plane appeared and flew high above through the trackless sky.  We watched it fly out of sight, and started to turn to keep skiing before noticing that it had circled around and was coming back! Descending, it flew straight toward us.  Various thoughts flitted through people’s minds- “is it landing?”  “Do we need to move out of the way?” “I wonder if he has pizza?” It flew right over our heads as we all gave the one-handed ‘all is well’ wave.  Whoever it was must have been very surprised to see sixteen people all dressed in bright red jackets in the middle of a lake in the heart of an otherwise uninhabited land! They wanted to make sure we were alright, or perhaps just wanted to see this strange gathering up close.

The land of spruce and snow

While living in the bush, one's life is dictated by the weather. That being the case, we were lucky to have the sun shining for most of our expedition. With it came unseasonably "warm" temperatures for the majority of our time.

Weather log March 18th

As dawn rose, the moon was still prominent to the southwest over the mountains. The sky was a crystal blue. High cirrus clouds dusted the sky like the down of Gil’s sleeping bag on the floor. In the afternoon a few more clouds rolled in but the sky stayed mostly clear. The sunset turned the sky into a color reminiscent of sherbet ice cream.

--Laszlo

Upon arriving at our first camp in Uapishka, we realized we had forgotten the fly, and had to change our habits to warm ourselves in different ways.  Finding a sheltered space for camp became more important, and we started the fire much earlier in the morning.  For the first few days, the clouds covered the sky. The air was icy. Temperatures dropped drastically on our fourth night. We didn't have a thermometer, but we ran into someone the next day who said his thermometer had bottomed out at -35 C. The frigid cold stayed around for a few days and not even the generally cozy tent was a place to take off mittens and jackets. We were almost at the point of instituting fire watches, which would mean that each person would take a shift to keep the fire going throughout the night.  Luckily, we never reached that point as the sun poked its head through the clouds and warmed our white world.

Charly, harvesting boughs for our tent floor 

I value frosty tree tops

Set against a vaulting sky so blue you want to dive into it

Like some everlasting ocean

I value warmth

Warmth that comes from a sturdy wall tent

Protecting you from the frigid gust of wind

Pushing to come in, uninvited

I value the sweet tangy smell of fir boughs

Enveloping you, drawing you near

So you want to burrow your nose under and breathe in the smell of home.

Where everyone sits in a gentle arc

And the candlelight dances with shadows

And the snow and the boughs work in harmony

To cradle your sleeping soul

--Zoe

The land changes so much with the weather. Some days the world sparkles from the bright sun shining over the snow and trees, bouncing off of the sheets of icicles hanging from jagged rocks. While other days the clouds lay heavy over the land and it’s almost impossible to distinguish snowy mountain from grey sky.

We awake in the snow sky

As crystal flakes, falling in perfect chords

We are the mounds of snow heaped high

Bearing the weight of the world

All the life of Father Sky flows through us

All the love of Mother Earth grounds us

--Sharon

We didn't have any major snow storms during our expedition, besides a northeast gale that blew strong for two days straight. We had set up camp on a plateau surrounded on every side by breathtaking views. The nor’easter blew through the trees hitting our tent with all its force, and at moments it felt as if the tent would blow away despite all our well-fastened lines. We even had to reinforce the tent door using ski poles so it wouldn't fly open, sending waves of cold air through the tent. Although the temperature itself wasn't all that cold, with wind chill it felt absolutely frigid. We had to cover every centimeter of skin while working outside to prevent frost bite.

Below is a “review” of this campsite:

 Le Chalet du Monts Uapishka (4+ stars)

On entering the vicinity of Le Chalet du Monts Uapishka, one is struck by the magnificent view- provided, of course, that the day is clear enough to see. An imposing ridge broods on the eastern horizon like the ridged back of a mythic beast, dotted with stunted spruce trees. A valley between this ridge and that on which the Chalet is situated provides excellent recreation opportunities in the winter, putting high class ski resorts to shame. Perambulating gently down the valley is a first-rate morning constitutional, perfect for tea-loving gents and ladies. Folks of a young and adventurous sort will not cease to be entertained, however, by the valley’s steep walls and adrenaline-rousing terrain features.

Accommodations are rustic and small, and would be uncomfortable for those without a limber set of arms, legs, and vertebra, but are nonetheless of the finest quality. The floor of spruce boughs is comfortable, elegant, and provides smashing deodorizing properties. The latter is of utmost importance as bathing involves stripping oneself in possibly less than ideal temperatures, and washing with a pocket handkerchief moistened by submersion into a tin bowl of water. Thus, this cumbersome procedure is performed with far less frequency then one may be accustomed to. Privacy is not guaranteed.

Surrounding the canvas Chalet are first rate supplies of boughs and firewood, making the cozy room comfortable with ease. The woodstove provides unparalleled ambiance and warmth- that is, as long as it is functioning properly. Meals are simple but made sumptuous by the long days of recreation. The Chalet is not for the faint of heart, thus by the usual standards it is perhaps two stars. However, given its charm and appeal, I am compelled to rate it four plus.

--Samuel

We stayed at that campsite for three nights (West of Lac Mora). The first day was originally an adventuring day but because of the storm we decided to spend the day in the tent: carving, resting, bathing, and doing an exercise led by Erica in which we gave honest feedback to each person in the group individually in one-on-one conversations. It was nerve racking at first but we all got a lot out of it. We have also been reading the Endurance by Alfred Lansing, and the chapter we were reading that day was utterly relatable as we listened to the wind howl, felt the tent shake, and heard Shackleton describe how his crew and he were unable to leave their tent except to use the bathroom because of the harsh weather outside.

When we awoke the next morning the wind was still storming outside but we decided to face the cold and adventure anyway. We skied over what Hannah coined Mermaid Lake and up to where we hoped to see the “Single Bevel,” an enormous cliff face with rocks protruding from within, icicles clinging to its jagged points. Unfortunately the sky was so cloudy we were unable to see all the way to the top- slightly disappointing, but we still made the most of the day. 

The next day the sun came out again and on our way to Squirrel Lake, where we were having a three day live-over, we decided to take advantage of the clear day and climbed to the top of a smallish mountain in the hopes that we might sight a good place to set up camp. The mountain was a short climb, but once we reached the top, we looked out and could see the whole world sprawled out in front of us. White mountains speckled green. There was a certain silence on the top of that mountain that is hard to describe- one that you only hear when you are far from cars and cities, the white noise of human life. It's a silence palpable in the air and the ground. It’s the kind of silence defined by the smallest noises, ones you normally never hear. It is almost hard to listen to when it rings so loud in your own head. We looked out from the top of that mountain and sang, stomped our skis and poles on the ground and joked that we would cause an avalanche. When we were done and the song joined the silence we skied down, appreciating the soft powder under our skis as we carved gentle curves on the slope. 

Hannah, making friends with a whisky jack

Ila and Serena on top of Mount Veyrier, watching for a flock of ptarmigan

Snow

Snow snow how I love snow

The powdery stuff

The puffy stuff

The sticky stuff

The wet stuff

The stuff that makes snowmobiling a blast

I don’t care as long as its snow

--Gil

Connor, "sending it"

We stayed at Squirrel Lake for three days. On the first day we skied to a spot where we had stashed food a week earlier. There we left our backpacks and skied up Mont Veyrier which is one of the three highest peaks in Uapishka. The going was treacherous. The slopes were completely iced over and most of us had to remove our skis and walk up the slippery sides of the mountain on foot. We all made it safely and stepped on actual ground at the top, on moss growing out of the frozen ground. The wind was cold and the crisp air blew around us as we looked out over the beautiful expanse of land. From the top of the mountain you could see all the way to the Manicougan reservoir and beyond. All around us were white mountains like chunks of powdered sugar. Our ski down was also adventurous, most of us walked or slid sideways on our butts to get down.

During our time at Squirrel Lake the weather was absolutely beautiful. We were able to take much longer, extended sit spots and really take the necessary time to give gratitude to Uapishka, and greet the four directions in the morning.

Enjoying the sunshine after summiting 

On our last day at Squirrel Lake we made snow palaces. These palaces were truly a luxury. They each fit 4+ people each and even had a spot carved out for a candle. Sleeping in the snow palace that night was one of the best nights of sleep I’ve ever had. I woke up feeling warm, rested and wishing I could stay inside and not face the wind outside.

Erica with a little friend on her head!

On the first day of spring (March 21st) we got to experience something I never imagined I’d see. We were in the tent and had just called a three minute pee/bring firewood inside break, when we hear from outside “You have to come and see this!” We all hurried out of the tent, stampeding over each other. Once I had emerged from the swarm of people, I stepped out over to the west of the tent and looked to the north there I saw a sky no longer the usual black and white speckled night but a turquoise blue-green. The milky colors had seeped into the darkness and were crawling up the sky. Everyone exclaimed, awed, and jumped up and down at the magic we were watching paint itself in front of us. The aurora began to move, her colors shifting with each twist and turn, pale orange-pinks and we were in love. We watched her slow dance across the clear cold night with complete amazement, and when we no longer had words for the immensity of emotions coursing through us, we sang.

The Lights

Souls shimmer over head

Ghostly silent and pure

They ebb and flow

Creeping higher to the stars

Before falling like a glistening waterfall

To the horizon

Pale green glimmers

Like fluttering leaves in spring

Accentuated with rosy red beams

Slowly the dancing souls

Leaving the sharp stars

To resume their stoic vigil

But their memory shimmers on

In the mind of the beholder

Like a crystal of thought

Precious pure and indescribable

-Grant

Leading up to our last day in Uapishka, our leaders, Hannah, Erica, and Oliver stepped back more and more until on the 23rd they skied down a day early, leaving us alone for the remaining afternoon, evening, and following day, waiting for us to ski back and meet them at the bottom of the drainage which we had climbed almost three weeks earlier. On our last day we all gathered, lit a fire, and held a small ceremony as a way to say goodbye and thank you to Uapishka and to celebrate these past two months on winter trail before we moved into spring. We stood around sharing memories from this journey and the fire in front of us held our stories, while the watchful “whisky jacks” (gray jays) smiled at us from above. This Uapishka expedition has been such a gift. It really feels that our group has grown so much, and become closer than ever.

All smiles from the semester!

A Love Letter to The Uapishka Mountains

Dear Mountains of Uapishka,

You are the most beautiful being I have ever laid eyes on. Your spirit is so very wise, and you make me feel free. No one else’s presence has this effect on me, this raw feeling of being truly alive. I believe this is so, because you embody an absolute stillness and silence, an unwavering energy that makes me want to be held forever by your strong gentle arms, to grow within your magic. Although I have to go soon, I will always remember your gifts of beautiful wild, calm-silent wisdom, and love and acceptance of everything in the universe.

-Charly

We packed up and drove away. We said one final goodbye (for now) in the early morning darkness, before the sun had time to rise and paint the Uapishka mountains the familiar colors we have come to know so well over these past three weeks. We drove thirteen hours to a hostel in Quebec City where I sit now. On Monday the 27th we will drive to Northwoods, stepping out of winter and into spring.

Our first lesson with Eve, our Quebec City tour guide

Kroka in the big city

Samuel and Grant at the museum of civilization

Oh green mountains, how I long for thee, to be once again embraced by thy loving arms. To feel myself held close from the wind, wrapped like a child under a blanket of maple and oak leaves. We have not spoken in quite some time, when last we were together, ‘pon the first day of this year, you were cold and barren, stripped of your colors and life, yet I could sense there was a warmth within you...Just waiting to be awoken. Oh how much you must have already changed, for when we meet again, you will be decked, in full capacity with the vibrant and lovely green of trees, like a woven crown upon thy head. The deep rich reds and purples of your bounteous fruit and opulent berries, and the cool crisp flow of water, running down every divot and contour of your being. But only will I see you when I return... Just waiting to return home.

-Julian

Setting up "Honey Hollow," our tent for our time at Northwoods

Sometimes it takes two to lash! 

Getting goofy with the mild temperatures of VT

Camp is set!

 I will be writing one more post before I pass the baton to someone else. We look forward to the weeks ahead wrapping up our winter and preparing for spring. 

Thanks for reading,

Ila

I value winter expedition because being comfortable in such a seemingly inhospitable environment is something that very few get to appreciate. There is also the possibility that because of climate change, and expanding populations future generations will not get to experience a frontier or -40 degree weather, and while both are scary prospects they are worth experiencing.

-Serena

Making maple syrup

Here is a word of wisdom for any future semester students from Connor:

Dear winter semester student,

Well, you made it. Your parents have dropped you off, said goodbye, and left before you could grab that snickers from the center console. As for the next five months, it will be health food and occasional chocolate squares for you, but that's OK! The meals are bomb and you will have a newfound love for peanut butter, as if it wasn’t strong enough already. Oh, and remember that jerky you left in the dehydrator too long? Yeah, that will come back for you during leg three and probably hurt a lot to chew, but remember- what you don’t eat, will be gladly eaten by others. On the occasion that “magic“  (i.e.- chocolate) comes out, give thanks to the all mighty Misha, and enjoy it because that stuff's precious. Also, enjoy the cheese while it lasts, and don’t cut it around Misha, otherwise it’s off to the woodshed you go!

            Signed,

    The food man (Connor)

The group in front of the Manic-5 dam

Zoe looks off into the distance from the top of one of our favorite peaks