Final Update

Dear Graduates of the 2012 Kroka Vermont Semester,


It is June 12.  A beautiful Graduation has come and gone. Our Kroka village is quiet now, while here in the office we are looking forward to the start of the summer season.  This morning I ran through the woods before chores.  The forest was filled with bird song, the slap of the beaver’s tail on the pond, the breeze through the tall ferns, the opalescent sunrise, and an overwhelming feeling of connectedness. 
This is my home.  I live and work here.  This is where I find meaning in my days.  And for five months, I have shared this home, this life and work and meaning, with you. So I want to thank you.  Thank you for your hard work, your time, your commitment, your joy and humor and loving kindness. I feel so lucky to be here, to wake every day to work that I can do with love and joy and gratitude, to be blessed with the opportunity to teach and guide and learn from young people like the nine of you.


Yours truly,
Lu Neuse
Vermont Semester Teacher


Ps. Here is Willie’s final update, and excerpts from some of your writing.  You have all accomplished amazing things.  I hope you are as proud of yourselves as I am of all of you.

Hello again everyone!

Our final week has been SUPER intense. On Wednesday, May 30, we continued to work on lodge reconstruction with Laurel and Ken. We filled in the gaps in the wooden frame with more and more poles. After we were done working on the lodge for the day, Nate came to begin preparing us for our final presentation. Presentation prep began with a game of miniature tanks, which involved everyone in the group on their hands and knees in a circle saying “miniature tanks” repeatedly while trying to move straight across the room without stopping, turning, or altering their course in any way. Also, 6^th graders from Edwards Middle School in Boston arrived for a three-day program. Once again, we got to eat dinner with a visiting school group. 

On Thursday morning, we did our chores with the help of the 6^th graders, and then got back to working on the lodge. By the end of the day we had finished laying the poles and we began doing the unthinkable, roofing. First we laid wide strips of reused billboard material from the lodge’s old roof as a skirt. We also laid it in the vertical crevasses between the main body of the lodge and the doorway and dormer as extra protection against leakage. Ken gave us a brief lesson in roofing, telling us to lay the roofing materials like shingles with the higher pieces overlapping over the top of the lower pieces to keep water out, and we began putting on the main waterproofing layer, Delta-MS, a material normally used in waterproofing foundations. 

On Friday, we worked with the 6^th graders during chores again. They left later that day. As far as the lodge went, we finished putting on the Delta-MS, leaving only the final living layer of sod to be laid. Saturday, unfortunately, was a rainy day. We devoted the entire day to working on finishing our academic work. Sunday, June 3 was also begun with academic work, but in the afternoon, Nate came for our second presentation prep. 

For dinner, we went to Gilsum to the home of Bill and Katie, the owners of Badger, who are big supporters of Kroka. Monday was a similar day to Sunday. We worked on academic and other miscellaneous work for half of the day and were joined by Nate in the afternoon for yet another presentation prep session. In the evening, after eating with the 4^th, 5^th, and 6^th graders of Cambridge Montessori School who had just arrived, Lu, Adam, Josia, Malcolm, Dean, and I got gussied up and picked up Nate to head to Nelson to go to the contra dance. 

We had a great time and some of us (me) danced for the first time at a contra dance (with the exception of the contra dance at NorthWoods). We got back late, though, so we added to our self-inflicted sleep deprivation. On Tuesday morning, we did chores with the help of the Cambridge Montessori students, who were very enthusiastic and helpful. Nate came for a morning presentation prep session. After lunch, we worked on our semester book covers. I also had the privilege of making enchiladas for the group for dinner. After dinner, we went back to Bill and Katie’s house for a transition workshop. We focused on worries and goals pertaining to the end of the semester and made collages to represent aspects of our current lives. Wednesday morning also began with chores assisted by the Cambridge Montessori students. We went back to Gilsum after chores for breakfast with Lisl and the transition workshop with Katie. We returned to Kroka for lunch, our big job presentations, and presentation prep with Nate.
Afterwards, we all headed over to Misha and Lynne’s house for dinner. They served a delicious meal of burritos and lemonade, with smoothies for dessert. We stayed for a slide show from the 2011 Paddlers Up North program and Misha’s expeditionary past. We went off to bed feeling good.

Thursday and Friday were filled with finishing our Big Job work, binding our semester books, and getting ready to say goodbye.  Grandfather came to run a sweat lodge on Thursday night, and on Friday we had appreciation circles, where we took time to honor the special things each of us had brought to our community.  On Saturday morning, we awoke together in the Big Yurt (where we also slept the last night before expedition began), ready to embark on our next big journey.

I hope you enjoyed hearing from the 2012 Kroka Expeditions Vermont Semester.  Thank you to all who supported us and made this possible.

Sincerely,

Willie

Excerpts from recent student work...

I declare that I love the cool night air.

I always say there's no time other than today.

I praise laughing singing summer days

I denounce those who take more than their allowance.

I believe in the stones in the sky in the trees.

I support living life cause life is short.

I uphold sky of blue sun of gold.
I commend having no regrets when it comes to the end.
I appreciate all my gifts small and great.

I revere anyone who knows their hopes loud and clear.

I adore giving your heart for all its for.

I believe everyone has a tapestry to weave.

I imagine everyone sharing their gift within.

I believe in the birds, butterflies, and bees.

I have learned so much, my life's path has turned.

I understand that all we have came from the land.

I believe in being proud of the legacies we leave.

I am proud to take my new voice and sing loud. 

-Malcolm

At certain points on our Semester Expedition I was very afraid. Sometimes this fear was justified, sometimes irrational, but all of it was genuine. I am most afraid of things I don’t understand. The day we crossed Woodward Reservoir I did not understand ice. Miles of frozen water lay ahead and behind as we skated across on our skis. Ice, no matter how thick, shifts slightly under weight, and sporadic groaning and popping marked our passage as the ice rubbed and cracked beneath us. This “ice artillery” put me on edge. But when a series of hairline cracks opened several feet away with a dull thump, my instincts went into a frenzy. I was group Navigator that day and needed to concentrate on my orientation and the route ahead or risk getting lost. I had to focus, not be hysterical. The only option was to forge ahead, holding my composure as best I could and lead the group to our next landmark. The rest of the group sang and laughed the whole time, but I was trapped in my own phobia. The ice was far thicker than was needed to safely cross, but convincing my panicked brain was another thing entirely. Semester showed me how to meet my personal challenges directly instead of sidestepping them. The first time I canoed solo I firmly never wanted to do it again. The harder I had pushed and strained to move the boat forward or change direction, the more off-course I had gone. I was reduced to swearing at the wind and water and myself, to no effect. After a few days on the River I still hadn’t paddled in the stern, let alone tried to paddle solo. I realized I would be ashamed of finishing a river trip unable to paddle a canoe on my own. So I owned up. I paddled in the stern for the next few days, and then soloed once I could steer, continuing until I felt totally confident. I can now say I have paddled a canoe by myself, in beautiful sunshine, driving rainstorms, and even into a beautiful sunset.

With this learning I can now turn to the future. The week ahead is a confluence of two currents, a time when the Semester’s flow runs back into the rushing torrent of the outside world. I cannot turn back to the beginning, to the joys or the low points, nor would I if I could. Now is the real beginning. Now is the time to balance the lessons of the journey, the sorrow of its passing, and the satisfaction of its finish. -Adam

I am my morals more now.  The blood of the oak is running hot in my veins and the words coming out of my mouth sound like truth sound like power sound like who I want to become. -Josia

On April 23, our spring truly began.  On a cool rainy day, we set out in our canoes, trudging up the Clyde River into the wind.  It is undeniable that the winter was equally amazing, but there was a uniquely special feeling that accompanied the river expedition. Life sprang into existence and we were blessed with wild edibles. Fiddleheads, dandelions, basswood leaves, and violets landed in our salads.  Just as the green around us was reborn, so were we.

We returned to Kroka as the air was warming, summer was coming, and thunderstorms beautifully distorted the atmosphere.  We reentered the morning chore routines we had once known, and greeted the animals once again.  We transitioned from living under a tarp, our spring sleeping arrangement, to living in wood and earth lodges, as we had in January.  Our days were spent rebuilding another wood and earth lodge, which had been prone to flooding, and working with visiting school children, who were getting a small dose of the life we are now at home in.

Now we have completed our journey, but a new one is beginning. We will once again be thrown into the current of the mainstream, but this time armed with new skills, knowledge, wisdom, and rejuvenated souls.  There is so much to take home from this experience, this adventure.  New friendships are an obvious result.  Despite being spread out over hundreds, and in some cases thousands of miles, I am certain that we can remain as tight as siblings.  Another souvenir is a new notion of what is right, what is good, and what is beautiful.  I will never think of food the same way again.  A handmade dwelling seems preferable to a conventionally constructed home.  Transportation powered by the body allows for more appreciation time, never mind a positive physical impact as well as prevention of a negative one.  I will never ignore the consequences of displacing or removing a part of the natural world.  I will never forget that beneath everything should lay love. I have found a new home.  -Willie

Scrape away the dead matter.  Take handfuls of the decomposing life and throw it out of your mind, cast it as far from you as possible.  Forget it and look.  See what is underneath.  There is dirt.  The leaves have been blown by a curious wind into a forgotten pile of useless scraps.  A hole has been dug. A window into the earth and into the substance from which everything grows.  There is life in here.  A hard, shelled seed falls, blown by an unintending wind, into the earth. It nestles its way into the soft, wet ground. Time and water flow through and in the seed something stirs.  A thought to grow. A crack from the tip of the seed splits it in two and a pale green shoot presses its way out.  With no regard for gravity it moves.  Up and out, through the ground and the rotting layer of ideas covering it.  White light and then flickering, swaying shadows of leaves play across our young plant and it grows.  Grows into a vast earth-changing concept.  Many- branched, with roots cracking and breaking the rock beneath.  Well-founded and sunk into the society of the wood.  Only after many years does it in turn drop its new ideas of children into the ground and give back to the earth.

Here in the heart of life is the cycle.  It takes from the dirt and then in its time it gives more back.  A debt of responsibility is paid, for dirt is a responsibility. It is the lifeblood of our planet. It grows the trees and plants that feed our world.  Catches the water that falls from the sky. Forms the great flowing architecture of the landscape. Guides rivers and trickling clear streams through valleys and over slippery, mossy rocks.  It grows turnips. -Everett

The whole world is one. But I am a part of this world too, I am also one.  Maybe the greater part of me was calling back to Dean the body and mind, the smallest part.  If I believe this, I should be able to be the world, not a tourist.  The butterfly and the ant, the tree and the tomato plant, they are my other halves. -Dean

All plants depend on soil. All of life is cradled in the brown decaying muck.  Moss needs dirt as much as any other plant.  It pulls nutrients and water from it, but as it takes it gives.  Giving and taking, not the same things, not a closed cycle, but an irreplaceable part of a larger one.  I always want to be part of that cycle too. -Michal

The portage- a challenge conquered only by ones own will and determination.  This act is similar to life in the sense that willpower and determination are essential to success and happiness…

Looking forward to the next few years of my life gives me the same feeling I experience when picking up my packbasket at the beginning of a long portage.  In a few days, after graduating semester, I return to Kroka for the summer and shoulder more responsibility than I have ever found myself entrusted with.  It will be hard, and I will certainly have to push myself, but I believe I can handle it.  

I have so far been able to achieve happiness in my life.  I hope to follow it up with success.  It seems that the portage doesn’t end with the semester.  I intend to carry this canoe for many years. -Conor


Home is defined by the people around, and here is the home I have found. -Malcolm


Dear Lu,
Your determination, hard work and mostly your love towards everyone and all things have contributed greatly to make this semester such a success! THANK YOU SO MUCH!
With gratitude in our hearts we wish you a wonderful summer.
The semester students, their families and all Kroka staff

Update 14

Hey everyone!

We’ve already been here at Kroka for almost two weeks and we’ve been quite busy. When we arrived on May 17, we were met by the image of an awesome new pond. Many new plants had already been planted around it and the water was quite inviting, but we had work to do.

We spent the first few days getting back into the groove of base camp life and wrapping up our spring expedition. We started doing morning chores again, like in January, but we weren’t milking Daisy anymore. Instead, we were moving rocks to the New Lodge for use in the new foundation we planned on building. 

The weekend came quickly and on Saturday, we took a spontaneous field trip to Orchard Hill, where there were Morris dancers performing. In the evening, Josia received a surprise visit from her Morris dance team. We had a potluck meal and a good time. Josia was very happy. 

On Sunday, the San Diego Waldorf School returned from expedition and ended their Kroka trip. We made and shared dinner with them and had our second eventful dinner here (all dinners are a special occasion, but sometimes we get to share a meal with special company). 

On Monday, May 21, we planted more plants around the pond and learned a bit about the ecological plans for it. The same day, Hawthorne Valley Waldorf School arrived for the beginning of their Kroka experience. On Tuesday morning, we did our chores with the assistance of the Hawthorne Valley students. They helped us with nailing the cedar boards onto the new boardwalk, carrying rocks, cleaning, and farm chores. Also on Tuesday, our lodge-rebuilding project officially began with a trip to a nearby piece of land to harvest fir poles. 

Laurel joined us as our lodge-building teacher and an arborist named Swift also joined us for the day. It became instantly clear that Swift was quite a character. He made his job sound like it’s official description could be something like “climbing from and tending to trees” or simply “tree swinger”. He showed off his puppy Gemini, his climbing gear, his chainsaw, and some of the meat from the turkey he had recently shot (it tasted good). 

We spent the day wandering through the woods until we found a large stand of firs, where we cut just over seventy. One knows they belong to an interesting logging operation when a fifteen-passenger van is hauling seventy fir poles on a canoe trailer. We spent all day Wednesday peeling those poles. At the end of the day, we began removing sod from the roof of the lodge. We got to peer under the soil and see a little bit more of how the lodge was built. Underneath the sod was re-used billboard material, the waterproof layer that kept us dry during the winter. 

Thursday was official lodge takedown day. The last of the sod was removed, the billboard material layer was taken off, and the wooden skeleton was dismantled and the poles organized by part of the lodge they belong to. Seeing an empty space where our January home once stood was a shocker and a surprise every time we walked up the hill. 

On Friday, we began moving dirt up to the lodge base to build a taller foundation. Wheelbarrow load after wheelbarrow load went by, and, with the help of some truckloads, we got most of the foundation done. On Saturday, we got up early and packed into the van for a weekend trip back to Heartbeet for a youth conference on conflict resolution. In just a few hours, we retraced the steps of almost our entire spring expedition as we drove along Interstate 91. We had a great time at Heartbeet on Saturday and Sunday. We stuffed ourselves on abundant food, swam in the pond, sat in the woods, and participated in fun, interesting workshops and listened to a few lectures. The folks there really are great and we spent a good chunk of time making sure we said goodbye properly. 

Next thing we knew, it was Monday morning and we were working on the lodge again. We finished the foundation with a rock ring to help stabilize the poles that would be going up and even got the first poles up. On Tuesday, we continued putting up poles, added the structures for the door and window, and put in the rings of hardwood saplings that provide a lot of structural support. The process continued today, Wednesday, and the lodge is really starting to look like a lodge again. I walked through the entry way and into the open space where we once slept and I felt a hint of what it felt like to walk in and out in January. We are working hard and making the most of the experience.

-Willie

Here are some selections from our recent work.  We hope you enjoy them!

Going home

Where is home?

finding it

defining it

home is wherever I can feel at home within myself

Home is under the yellow birch tree at the edge of the grassy clearing

spanning the thin stream

on the log that lay over the lower part where it began bubbling over rocks

I came home to the group after sitting out the beginning of the river trip. I was greeted with such warm familiar smiles and hugs that the frustration of my dysfunctional knee ceased, briefly, to matter.

in the winter, I learned to be strong

but on the river I learned to be human

a person can be strong and capable and at the same time

weak, fragile, and impossibly helpless

I learned to gracefully accept the help I needed

hide tanning

friction fires

and moccasins

such important ties to the earth that with each lesson

I grew closer to the awakening forest

each wild edible that we learned and ate

is a step closer to sustaining myself from the land

a step closer to the forest

a step towards home

-Michal

 

Almost everything is more beautiful at night

because at night you can truly notice light

Whether it is a whole black landscape

of fireflies flowing in no surefire direction,

a field of shooting stars beneath the dark rolling sky,

or a circle of bright lights

holding hands and singing as the sun sets

and the world becomes soft

-Dean

Along the winding brown Connecticut River

Past fields and muddy flood plains forested with shaggy silver maples

Under bridges and through the darker deciduous forests that rise steeper up the bank of the river

Around bends in the slow moving current

We wound our way home

A return journey

Laid back and swift

As we rode the rivers home

There were cold rainy wet days

Snow and sleet pelted us

Happy warm days saw us napping in canoes

Through all this it was a closing

And a celebration

A coming to the end of a journey

The beginning of another

This was a celebration of what we have done and what we can do

We saw more life returning to the land

Buds, then leaves and birds

Bringing the summer

Celebration the sun and warmth and our lives

The river kept running its course

Yet we did not

And as it continues on down to the sea

We leave it behind.

Knowing only a little of it

Only its mood in one place on one given day

Only a small fraction of its water

To know something so huge would be to know

The oldest gnarled tree and its long life

Its roots spring out

Down into something even greater and more massive

It is old

Yet new every day

Reborn with fresh water that its banks have never yet seen

A celebration of our journey

Our lives

The river in its age

-Everett

Moose Maple

All the moose maple wants to do is drink up water through its roots and soak up the sun with its broad flat leaves. A moose may come along and chew him up or a person may pick his leaves, but no one can stop the moose maple from doing what he does best, reaching for the sun, slurping up the rainwater, and thriving.

People may say he’s not as good as the other maples, with his smaller, weaker wood and no sweet sap for syrup, but the moose maple doesn’t care.  His purpose is not to be cut down to build some boring old house or to have his blood poured over pancakes.  His purpose is simply to grow and he needs nobody to tell him how to do that.

The moose maple may have trouble.  Maybe a larger tree will cast his shadow over him, making growth more challenging, or maybe a moose will eat all his buds.  He can resist the shade.  He can grow new buds.  When he’s done growing, he will fall over, decompose into the soil and give other trees a chance to grow. No matter what any one says, the moose maple has a purpose.

-Noah

I am growing, becoming

a sunflower, a willow tree, a mosquito

words walk out of my heart, through my mouth

open up the previously locked metal grated door

an ocean erupts

starfish clamp on

salt stings in old wounds

but then there is clarity

my voice

it belongs to me

I control it

beware

stand clear- or prepare for a deluge

stronger?

maybe

surer?

yes

more definitely able to reason

some  concrete skills now exist

floating around on brain clouds

but above them

there’s a rainbow

a really super proud one

full of dignity and optimism and courage

It’s tinged with doubt

loathing, violence, frustration

it’s only ephemeral

still wobbly and delicate

though rooted deep in history

the future could bring anything

-Josia

Solo Camp on NH bank near Jarvis Island

I step on rock

sink into mud

listening and feeling

for a thud

Always careful

is the fool

who thinks he needs

every damn tool

So the pack is heavy

pad in my hand

navigating rocks and silt

and sometimes sand

Scale up

crawl back down

It’s now unclear

where my feet are bound

Hike up the side

grabbing hold of trees

holding and pulling

on my knees

Walk a bit

pass a camp

walk up a hill

like a wheelchair ramp

And so I found

my place to stay

oh, look, turns out

I’m in Josia’s way

Set out again

on the ridge line

looking for something

something fine

Put down the pad

collect sticks and such

start a fire

it didn’t take much

Leave the bread raw

kinda cooked it on a stick

set out looking for a flat rock to pick

Come back empty handed

knew I would

set my bowl

on sticks of wood

Spilled water

spilled noodles

I kinda felt like

I was fighting with poodles

Threw in some butter

Threw in some cheese

hoping at night

I won’t freeze

-Willie

I hear the lonesome train calling me across the river

I hear it calling screaming yelling with a fierce quiver

I hear the wheels come crashing trashing round my head

Telling me to come be free to run away and not be scared

I hear the train go screaming past and steaming by

I wished that I could climb aboard and try to soar

attempt to fly

I hear the furnace roar for more to feed this beast a feast of flame

I long to ride this wild horse, a horse unbroken, free, untamed

I hear it howling back in the woods it coaxes me come see new land

I still don’t move as it runs by

I just watch and hear and stand

I hear the haunting whistle cry one last try it pleads for me to run away

but its not the time I must decline for another train some other day

For now a boat shall carry me

and on the water I shall be free

-Malcolm

Moments from the River

Crossing Island Pond in heavy wind, struggling furiously to remain on course while rocking in the whitecaps and being very afraid.  Then, singing till we took out.

Beaver-dam “leap-frogging” with Everett.  I get out onto the dam and drag the canoe across, while he crawls to the bow and I jump in as I shove off and we paddle on to the next dam.

Cold and wet on the Clyde.  Realizing that I loved being there, doing this, and wanted to be nowhere else.

Laying I a pile of sleeping bags at camp after ferrying across rapids on the Nulhegan.  The snow was falling, but I was a cozy sausage of warmth, and surrounded by people that I love.

Staring up at the massive Gilman and Comerford dams.  Later that week we talked about dams and energy and river ecology.  The alarm for the dams water release system was broken and it sounded like something out of war of the worlds.

Sitting up against massive hemlocks on Nine Island in the rain, looking out at the river during morning meditation.

Being absolutely petrified of the whitewater day at Sumner Falls, before, during, and after.  I would do it again though.

Following the history of the landscape as we paddled through it.  Seeing the sites of a former Native American town, log circles in the river, and many old farms.

Portaging our semester’s canoe up the final few miles of hills until reaching the boat landing at Lake Warren.

Feeling totally validated paddling solo across Lake Warren with a huge thunderhead coming in and the sun setting beautifully.  The first time I paddled solo I was nervous and could barely move, let alone steer.  But that was at the beginning…

Reaching Kroka laden down with our gear on the final portage home, and seeing the office staff burst from the farmhouse and come running down the road toward us.

-Adam

Spring Expedition

Water riffles away from the hull of the canoe

Swirls of water follow my paddle

A heavy drizzle disturbs the surface

I become entranced by the rhythm

stroke by stroke I fall deeper into my thoughts

The dark green banks rise up to meet the swirling sky

Awakened by sudden chaos, my eyes follow their flight

Swallows are darting about

Skimming across the surface, eating flies

I adjust to this new rhythm and appreciate the sight

I paddle in beauty 

I paddle in peace

-Conor

Update 13

Hello again, everyone!

We left you all as we packed up to head out on the river for the first time. On April 23, we said our goodbyes and walked out of North Woods, paddles in hand, lifejackets strapped to our chests, and stepped off of a dock onto the Clyde River and into canoes to begin our journey. It was a bittersweet moment leaving North Woods, our home for more than a month, but adventure sat ahead in a canoe of its own, beckoning to us. Accompanying us was Kevin, an experienced river guide from Maine, who would stay with us until April 27.  So, off we went, into the captivating world of the water and wind.  On the dock, just before setting out, I took note that the wind was blowing the WRONG WAY, a significant disappointment, since on our practice days the wind blew upstream and we were about to fight both wind and current going up the Clyde; but so it went, and the first day was fantastic, with the only casualty being Malcolm’s water bottle, which was lost at our first lunch site.

We set up camp on the riverside in the evening and slept well after a good first day.  On our second day, April 24, we woke up, got ready, and picked paddle partners. Everyday we tried to paddle with a different person to keep our trip fresh and varying. We continued paddling up the Clyde, eventually reaching Island Pond, where we had a snack consisting of Cheddar Bunnies (a big treat, in my opinion) and brownies from a local store (a treat enjoyed by all). We paddled across the pond amid wind and waves, and took out at a beach on the other side. We experienced our first portage between Island Pond and nearby Spectacle Pond, where we enjoyed a lunch of homemade hummus and tortillas.
On the other side of Spectacle Pond, we took out again and portaged along trails to the headwaters of the Nulhegan River, a marshy area filled with beaver dams.  The next day, April 25, began with navigating log jams and beaver dams on the Nulhegan. At times we had to pull the canoes over the dams (a fairly difficult task considering that each canoe was carrying a very heavy load of boxes, buckets, backpacks, and pack baskets) or wade through the water to clear the way. As we progressed through the day, the river turned into a never-ending zigzag of oxbows, each one looking almost identical to the last. We camped with the plan to begin lining the canoes down the rapids in the morning. 

On the morning of the 26^th, we tied everything to the insides of the canoes so that, in the event of a canoe flipping in the rapids, we wouldn’t lose anything. As we approached our first set of rapids, Kevin deemed them safe enough to run, so we paddled.  It was a bit nerve racking for me, even in minor rapids, since canoes always seemed so tippy before coming to Kroka, but it turned out pretty great and everyone enjoyed the short run of easy-ish rapids. Unfortunately, we came up on more difficult water that we needed to portage around. After portaging and paddling a few short distances, we got to where we could line down the river. 



Lining, for any that may not know, is walking the canoe through the water using primarily the upstream painter (rope tied to the upstream end of the canoe) from on or near the shore. Fortunately, it was a nice warm day for getting our feet wet, as we all ended up off of the shore due to the dense alder thicket on the bank. The day ended with a final paddle and long portage on trails to camp. On April 27,we bid Kevin farewell, but not before doing a short distance of lining and ferrying across the river in the morning. Though we had one teacher depart we had some other things appear. We were resupplied with food and gear, but most notably and most importantly, our Andrew and Michal, who brought tales of the pond at Kroka and other adventures.  They arrived just in time for our cuddle-puddle. It was a cold day, so we all felt the need to crawl into our sleeping bags and get into a big pile. Andrew and Lu left for a short time to set up our gear pickup for the next day and returned with, yep, you guessed it, PIZZA! And along with the pizza came, to some disappointment, SNOW! 

So our first liveover (non-travel day on trail) was spent huddled up, ready for the return of the sun. On the 28^th we awoke to a thin blanket of snow. We portaged a short way and put in and, for the first time, we used our new cedar-canvas canoe.  It was great to now have our entire fleet of canoes and our entire group present. A short time later, we came out onto the Connecticut River. We had now reached our main highway, our main route, and our way back home to Kroka. We stepped onto New Hampshire soil for the first time since February 1, where the group waited on a playground for the re-supply to be picked up from the Vermont side of the river. After a snack, we got moving on the river again and moved at a much faster speed than we had ever moved on trail before, while doing significantly less work. On April 29, we spent a full day on the Connecticut River, the first of many to come.  We knew we would be arriving at Guild Hall Dam, a breached dam, sometime around mid-day, where we planned on portaging. As we approached a bridge crossing the River at Guild Hall, we noticed a short span of rapids. Everyone ran them and the occasion seemed uneventful and fun. As time passed, however, and no dam ruins were reached, we realized that the rapids had, in fact, been the dam. Once again, though, we had to give up one of our teachers, and Andrew said goodbye and headed back to Kroka. That evening, we camped on the Vermont bank in an oxbow. As the canoes were being unloaded, Conor was rocking our new canoe back and forth. The boat tipped and swamped and Conor was standing waist deep in the water. We all had a good laugh. Apparently his rain pants even kept him partially dry. Later in the evening, Polly, the dog musher and guide from Maine who had showed us a slide show at North Woods and who is Kevin’s partner, came with her dog, Nola, to teach us for a few days. Her specialty was outdoor baking and we had some awesome desserts the next few nights. April 30 was Malcolm’s birthday. 

We portaged around Gilman Dam and paddled down to Moore Reservoir, where we spent our first night in New Hampshire since January 31. Along the way, Noah found an abandoned River Rat inner tube, which he towed behind the canoe. To celebrate Malcolm’s birthday, Polly showed us how to make a cake in a Dutch oven. Needless to say, it tasted good. On May 1, we paddled the rest of the distance down Moore Reservoir and then portaged around Moore Dam. We ran out of water, so we stopped at a house on the riverside to get water. As we waited, Noah tried out the River Rat and lounged in the water for a few minutes before we continued on. We camped on the New Hampshire bank of Comerford Reservoir across from a graveyard that night.  On the 2^nd, we finished paddling down Comerford and portaged around the dam. The portage trail on the downstream side of the dam was so steep that Josia attempted to sled down the grassy slope. Silly Josia. We then camped on Nine Island, which was where Polly left us from. I paddled with Polly to drop her off on a road on the Vermont bank, where we basically traded her for Tom. 

It’s unfortunate to see teachers leave so quickly, but their lessons always stay with us. Tom, however, would be with us for the rest of the expedition.  I paddled back to camp with Tom and immediately we began learning how to tan leather from him.  He showed us the solution of mayonnaise, soap, and water in which the raw hide would soak overnight. We used the hides from the deer that Everett had found (as road kill) and which he had scraped as well as some hides that Tom brought with him.  

On May 3, we had our leather tanning live-over on Nine Island and we spent the day bouncing people up and down on trampolines of leather (in order to stretch it). In the afternoon, Nat Trip came and told us about the history of that part of the river and the confluence of the Connecticut and Passumpsic Rivers where Nine Island is situated. He talked about the nearby upstream dams (especially Comerford) and their significance for the area. It was a very interesting listen. On May 4, we continued our journey south, portaging around McIndoe and Dodge dams and negotiating weird currents in “the Narrows”, an area where the river’s current twists and turns a lot in a very small space between cliffs and a piece of land jutting out into the river. Apparently, last year’s semester was warned of a large whirlpool to be avoided in the Narrows. They were forced to portage because of higher water levels. We were safe, though, and they proved only to be a small adventure. We camped that night on Howard Island. In the morning on May 5, Lu told the story of Cinco de Mayo (one of Mexico’s several independence days) and how the Mexican army unexpectedly beat the French out of Mexico at the Battle of Puebla in 1862. At lunch, we pulled off to the bank and Malcolm launched into a nostalgic speech about how he had been coming to that spot for the past few years with the Kroka Paddlers’ trips. He had fun there. Meanwhile, a helicopter was obnoxiously swooping down and going in circles around a big section of river that just happened to include our spot. It turned out that in a nearby town, there was a monster truck rally going on. We could hear the trucks roaring and the crowd screaming. Lu and Josia stopped at Robie Farm just before arriving at camp to pick up milk, bacon, and ice cream. We were happy campers. Tom also set up smoking stations for the hides. The smoking finishes the tanning process. The leather would be ready for moccasin making the next day. On the 6^th, we had another liveover and Lisl came to teach us how to make moccasins. Later, at dinner, the idea was proposed that we wake up in the wee morning hours and do a moonlight paddle. 

We planned to be out of camp by 3:00 AM, but we took a while and were late to leave, so we got on the river at 3:05 AM instead (we weren’t that late). The moon was big and bright and we had a lovely quiet paddle in the dark. We got to watch the sun come up around 6:00. It was a little bit cold and we hadn’t eaten breakfast yet, so we stopped on the New Hampshire bank, where there just happened to be a fire pit, and made a fire and ate granola around it. That may have been the best breakfast we’ve had yet!  Since we had an early start, we arrived in camp pretty early. We camped on the New Hampshire bank in a nature preserve with lots of trails near Dartmouth College, where Lu had gone to school. After it became apparent that we were in a frequently hiked public area of the woods, we moved our camp to the island directly across. On May 8, we portaged around another dam and arrived at Sumner Falls, which we portaged around and camped just south of it. 

On the morning of the 9^th, we paddled back up to Sumner Falls where we awaited Misha’s arrival and the beginning of our white water day. We played a canoe game called “Yummy Fish” in which every canoe tries to capture all of the bailers and throw ropes from the other canoes. It was a fun game. Somehow, Everett’s paddle ended up in the boat that Conor and I were in after a brief fight for our throw ropes. Eventually, Misha arrived with two canoes, wet suits, and other gear. We all prepared our canoes with flotation devices and suited ourselves up and got onto the water. First we learned about rescues (and forced canoe flipping so that other people could practice rescuing us), then we learned about bracing.  Everett, Michal, Dean, and I all flipped our canoes practicing bracing (whoops).  We practiced running a wavy portion at the end of the rapids on the side channel before running the main channel. After lunch, we carried the canoes up to the start of the rapids and ran them down the main channel. It was nerve-racking for some of us, but everyone did awesome. We repeated that run another time before assessing the side channel, which is probably where the “Falls” comes from in “Sumner Falls”. Everyone decided that we wanted to run the slightly more difficult side channel and Adam volunteered to direct everyone from the pile of rocks in the middle of the river that splits the current. No one flipped on any of the real runs and we all had a super great time. We went back down to camp and did laundry in the stream next to us. 
On the 10^th we got moving again. We passed by and stopped at an island where we found wild leeks, which we picked and cooked for the next few meals. We traveled on and stopped in the late morning at Path Of Life Gardens, which we toured.  The gardens are an artistic representation of the stages of life. One of the stages was “Adventure”, which was depicted by a huge hemlock maze (we all got lost). “Ambition” was a small hill with a path up it. The sign that said “Ambition” also had arrows pointing around the hill that said “Less” and arrows pointing up the path on the hill that said “More”. The Path Of Life ended with Death and, shortly afterward, Rebirth.  It was a very silent, meditative experience. That afternoon we arrived at MacLennan Farms, our campsite for the next two days. The owners of the farm were dogsledders and had Siberian huskies, with which some of us got the privilege of working. They even let us pick their surplus asparagus crop.  On the 11^th, we had another liveover. Roger Haydock, an amateur geologist, gave us a geological tour up Mt. Ascutney.  Roger sure was a character. We had a very enjoyable day listening to him and having him point out the differences in the rocks, soil, and vegetation as we moved up the mountain.  On May 12, we all did service at MacLennan Farms. We all divided up and worked on various tasks, like being distracted by tons of fluffy dogs.  Some of us filled in dog holes (I swear, they dig like badgers), others cleaned out dog pens, and some cleared out river cane in the stream nearby. The owners, Alex and Kathy, served us lunch. It had been so long since we’d been exposed to the now foreign food of the outside world. There were bananas and pineapple, apple cider and cold cuts. We considered it a rare treat.  We got back in the boats after lunch and headed out again, but this time we only went a short distance. We unloaded on the New Hampshire bank near Jarvis Island, but instead of setting up camp, we divided up food and headed out on our own for overnight solos.  Most of us followed a stream and camped near it. Most of the group fasted the next day, the 13^th, during the solo. It was a great time to think, meditate, sleep, explore, or work on projects. Everyone returned from his or her solos in the evening on the 13^th.  

We spent May 14 on the river. It was a long day, but we reached Bellows Falls in the afternoon.  We portaged through town (long portage) and put in on the south side of the dam. We reached camp at the confluence of the Cold River and the Connecticut River in an exhausted state.  On the morning of May 15, we said our goodbyes to the Connecticut and began lining up the Cold. We were lining in some deep water, so we were fighting a difficult fight with the rapids on our feet.  Eventually, during a ferry, a canoe swamped and gear went floating downstream. Malcolm had an adventure swimming down chasing and rescuing the gear. After that mishap, we began portaging. The system of leapfrogging our gear became the most useful method, so we’d carry our gear for about a kilometer, go back for the canoes, and repeat until we’d reached our destination. We got to end the day with a short section of paddling and lining, along with pushing canoes over beaver dams in an inflow that we followed to find camp. We camped on an island in a beaver pond right near the river. On the 16^th, we continued lining until we reached Alstead.  Lisl dropped by while we were still lining. We had seen Nathan the day before just before we paddled into camp at the beaver pond. We took out at Alstead and began our final haul back to Marlow.  During our lunch break, two Kroka vans almost passed us by, but they saw us and stopped to say hi.  They were taking the San Diego Waldorf School out for an expedition.  The portage ended in East Alstead, where we put into Lake Warren and paddled out to Pine Island, the last campsite of the expedition.  Just after camp was set up, a surprise thunderstorm rolled in.  There is definitely something special and unique about thunderstorms in contrast to any other rainstorm. The rain subsided after about a half hour and clear skies returned.  In the morning on the 17^th, we reflected on our final stretch of travel, our final camping spot, and the expedition we had just experienced. We paddled across Lake Warren and began our last portage home to Kroka.

We arrived at Kroka around midday on May 17. So ended our amazing expedition. We’ve been cleaning up and getting back into the swing of things here. The new pond is really cool. It feels good to be back, though we all miss our trail and river lives. We will be sure to get the most out of these next few weeks here.

We’ll be keeping all of you posted. Until next time,

-Willie

Candids from the river: