A lot has happened since the last blog post. We are no longer
scurrying about base camp in preparation frenzy. We are now scurrying around
the Green Mountains in a ‘daylight is disappearing’ frenzy. We started this leg
of our expedition near Lincoln Gap, where we waved goodbye to Jessie and Oscar,
who had come up with us. We had a short hike in, of around 5 km to our first
camp at Cota Brook. We arrived at camp, both in the growing darkness and
realization of what was to come. This was the beginning of the adventure we had
all committed to. This was the beginning of the journey that we as individuals
and as a community had spent many months preparing for.
Expedition Day One
Sarah Kennedy
And here we all are
A single file line of
raincoated, bliss ridden, brand new expeditionists
Forward, I am lulled by
the crunch and squeak of our now widened footfalls
Friends in front of me
pack the path through the deep soft powder,
creating direction and
ease of travel
I am acutely aware of
where I place my snowshoes,
and how they aid those
who move behind me
I can’t help but grin a
grin that stretches across my cheeks
At my new blessings of
muscle and sweat, and the laughter,
that trails behind us
like smoke in the silver air,
Here we all are, and
there are so many places for us yet to be.
In
the following days we moved from Cota Brook, Bradly Brook to Finn Basin to Huntington
Gap to Brush Brook to South Honey Hollow to North Honey Hollow, and finally to
the Winooski River. We traveled short days of 5k and long days of 13k. I remember
the days when I thought that 13k days were easy peasy. However, this leg of
expedition has provided me, and the rest of the crew, with a winter perspective
on expeditioning, especially with snowshoes.
On top of traveling by snowshoes, we carried 100 L packs filled to the brim with sleeping bags, sacks
full of grains, cheese, meat, nuts, pots, huge canvas tents, axes, saws,
titanium stoves, med kits and more. You fill in the cracks of spaces in between
your gear with your sole extra pair of socks and underwear.
After we finished packing our bags, we stripped off our extra layers - sweater, puffy jacket,
mittens, hat – and dolled on a pair of heavy mickey mouse boots and finicky
snowshoes. After we were in the appropriate attire (*be bold start cold*) we started making our way through the Green Mountains going up and down hills almost
constantly while also plowing through powder – "breaking trail". We found the experience a little more difficult than we originally thought.
We also had to factor in the time needed to set up and take down camp- the huge canvas tent,
the firewood that must be split, the snow to be melted for drinking and washing
water, the boughs needed to line our floor... And finally remembered that we were also doing academics, sometimes in the morning and sometimes in the evening. We
read, wrote, problem solved, created, and shared knowledge.
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| Gathering snow to melt into drinking and cooking water |
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| Carving wooden spoons |
Ode to the Stove
Elijah Jackson
Hannah Billian says the
stove is a princess, dead weight to be carried. But not all monarchs’ daughters
fit that stereotype. So, dear stove, burden though you may be, I name you Æthelflaed. Just as she united, through the chaos of war, Mercia
under her father Alfred’s banner, you unite and shelter us with your warmth.
Just as she dedicated her life to her case, you have grown old and worn in your
service to others, your youth and beauty burned away with the wood. But far
more beautiful is to see a telos so fully fulfilled as you have yours. So, dear
Æthelflaed, beautiful weathered matriarch of winter life, it is no
true burden when time and time again you give it back and more.
Despite what
it may sound like, we are having a wonderful time! We have adjusted to trail
life and are living in rhythm with the sun, fire, water, tent, and distance needed to travel. We wake in the darkness of the early morning, disassembling
our sleeping situation and running off into the woods for short sit spots,
before returning to the tent for journaling and breakfast.
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| Reciting Poems |
Afterwards we start
packing our bags and taking down camp. While on trail we don’t stop for lunch,
instead we each have day food bags that we eat from. Day food bags are not
snack bags- this is critical! Just because their contents are often comprised
of nuts, cheese, jerky, chocolate, and dried fruit does not make it a snack.
When we arrive at camp, before taking our bags or snowshoes off, we stomp out a
place for out tent, gear, wood yard, and pee tree. Then our “celebration of
work” begins with boughs, wood, canvas, p-cord, and metal flashing in the
anticipation of rest and dinner.
Candle Lit Circus
Eliza Price
O! My! Luminous,
billowing home. I see you rise like breathing and my wonder is veiled thinly.
This house has so many legs and I will sleep burrowed in canvas and wake with
walls glowing. Tea dye stains make watercolor faces and tree rings. I want to
know how it is you grow up from the earth - to announce our candle lit circus.
Many hands dear to me pull and lash- twine web and heft chimney. Oily blue and
purple stovepipe, door so delicately sprawled. I want to draw every line of you
but my hand is not so steady. I live in a sail! I live in the moon’s
underskirts- in a carnival hidden deep in the thick damp dark.
In
terms of academics we’ve been up to all sorts of studies. We’ve been observing
weather patterns on a daily basis with the hopes of eventually being able to
accurately predict changes that could affect our expedition plans. We’ve also
been recording species we’ve come across either in person or by notes and
traces left behind.
Through our lists and beautiful nature journal pages we
have recognized the members of our greater community of the New England landscape.
We’ve felt the presence of black bear by the distinct claw marks decorating the
beech trees surrounding our camp. We spent a whole day with Dave Muska, an
experienced biologist and tracker, who taught us about the art of careful
observation and forensics. We’ve visited kill sites, circles filled with grouse
feathers and the strong stench of struggle. We’ve walked among deer beds, poop,
urine, tracks, and made use of hemlock boughs left behind by porcupines.
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| Dave Muska's tracking lesson |
To further aid us with our understanding of the natural curiosities we were stumbling upon, we have been reading the book Reading The Forested Landscape by Tom Wessels. This book combines ecology with natural history and how to fit both together in order to come upon the story of the place. R.T.F.L has been eye opening for many of us and as we traveled through the Green Mountains we would point out “Oh look there’s a wolf tree” or “ Look at that basal scar. What do you think caused it?” or “Look at all this white ash, this must be very nutrient rich soil”.
Woodland Observations
Katarina Blakeson
At the start, the forest was mostly
white birch (Betula populifolia) and red spruce (Picea rubens) of sizable
girth, seemingly middle-aged, tall and straight. The sight of a bare birch’s
salmon under bark and off-white slender body before an azure sky gives my soul
the lightness and strength to keep putting one wool-socked mickey mouse-boot
snow-shoes foot in front of the other. Further along, I began to notice more and
more American beeches (Fagus grandifolia), far younger than the surrounding
birches and spruce, none more than 1” or so in diameter, somewhat of an age
discontinuity. I wonder if there are no older beeches because of natural
succession patters this forest followed on its growth, or as a result of beech
blight and scale insects.
The last few kilometers approaching
this site, there was a fair presence of sugar maples (Acer saccharum), young
also, but older than the beeches, around a foot or two in diameter at most.
The place that brought me the most
happiness and curiosity today was crossing under a grove of birches who’s
branches hung like willows, ducking under, and gently pulling them to release
the snow that weighed them downward for easier passage of those behind me. It
made me laugh privately and amused to myself, reminding me of shaking the hand
of someone dear in greeting.
On Saturday
February 22nd we came down from the Catamount Trail to the
Winooski River Trailhead where we waited for Jessie and Oscar to arrive. While
we waited we sang songs, wrestled, recited poetry, contra danced, and kind of
learned Morris Dancing J
We have been
given a beautiful yurt to call home for a few days while we live here. After
moving in, we dove right into our big job tasks and end-of-leg academic
assignments. Many things needed to be done… everything from making gear repairs,
to doing laundry, organizing food, and writing this blog. We also had a
plethora of assignments to finish, species and Book of Wisdom pages,
celebration of writing pieces – otherwise known as essays, and maps to copy
down in our journals.
Between blocks of work we squeezed in time to spend with
the community, playing with the children, eating meals with the separate house
groups, presenting a performance of our time thus far on semester, and
showering in their homes. We felt welcomed right away, into a community that in
its roots felt very similar to Kroka, where community, consciousness,
sustainability, and inclusivity are the base for everything.
On
Tuesday morning we will once again pack ourselves into the van and trailer to drive
10 hours to Gaspe, where we will begin our telemark skiing leg. We will miss
Hannah Billian, and Oliver Mednick who has been with us since the start of
semester. I also foresee us missing the Green Mountains, the trees and wildlife
there as well as the warmer temperatures of above zero Celsius (on average).
However, we are also looking forward to leaving our boots and snowshoes behind
and picking up Misha Golfman and Zoe Flagollet as our new instructors, along
with Jo that is – she will be with us for the entirety of our journey. For now
we say good-bye, good-bye, until next time! Au revoir! Wish us luck in Canada!
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| Rachel's Map of the Green Mountain Expedition |
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| Our last moment at Heartbeet before heading to Canada! |
Making Friends with the Cold
Eliza Price
Curl my toes, Chipping
away at the thick of me
Nothing makes me cry
like this numb desperation
Hollow quiet pit of me
Sleep without rest,
crawl out of my skin!
But! To laugh when the
wind is tearing at my cheeks?
To know safety in the
long frigid night – to be among
Those who do not
believe in a world that dies in that hungry
part of the year. Who
can see and know all that
Blooms and bursts and fights
on and on in the
Snow. These pick-bone
ivory months
Have always been lost
on me. I was taught
Cave in! Do not seek
the sun
and wallow like a toad
in mud.
I will not be fooled
again.
I have seen fragile
things hold me.
Sincerely,
Oddtree
