NHVSP Update 12

From left to right standing: Zach, Emily, Wayland, Kreston, Angus, Noah, Sam
Kneeling: Elliot, Lotte, Kerensa, Kenya, and Max 

Two weeks ago we canoed  to the town of Swanton, Vermont, where we switched to rowboats from Lake Champlain Maritime Museum. The boats included two fine large crafts outfitted for carrying loads over distance: a six-oared boat, Harvest Moon Sports, with a purple maroon and black paint job with varnished oak trim, and a four-oared craft, American Shad, dressed in canary yellow and blue with no trim and less powerful than her larger cousin in windy waters but an eager match on the flat lake. The boats were given to us with a warning that “it could get rough out there” and that we should take it easy on the windy days. Of all the days we rowed down the lake, only one of them was with the wind. We rowed in merciless head winds and covered good distance as well, despite the “rough winds.” Indeed on our second day of travel, a large windstorm with thunder and lightening hit us, boats tacked against the waves, but we did persevere!

The American Shad and the Harvest Moon

That night we slept in a State Park in New York, seeing as we got to camp so late. We slept under a gazebo and awoke to the sight of an impenetrable fog and local people running in the early morning.  Although it was called a State Park it was in fact the city of Plattsburg’s newest local park.  We cast off quickly and rowed into the cloud shrouding Valcour Island, our next destination. On Valcour we learned about a battle that happened between Benedict Arnold and the British. Although Arnold won, he didn’t win by much having saved only four of his 15 boat fleet. Yet it delayed the British from invading the South Bay of the lake for one more year. So the fledgling nation was safe for then.

The next day the Harvest Moon and it’s crew were sabotaged by the crew and company of the Shad. They left at first light like thieves in the night, shirking to take down camp, stealing some of our rudder and some of our oar pins as well as breakfast. Wounded and infuriated, the Moon rowed on out and beat the Shad to Burlington despite its handicap.  We landed in good spirits on North Beach, a popular little spot, to cook our leftover supplies over a fire grate. Later that day we hauled out gear to the Rockpoint School, which was just up the road from North Beach. The school is an old Episcopalian church, all built out of firestone and mortar. The student body of some 40 kids and staff listened to us talk about our semester and then invited us to dinner, which we of course accepted cordially. What a great dinner. We then spent time with some students, listening to music, playing pool and some of us even gardened with them. That night we slept in the chapel of the church and woke early to visit the Burlington Farmer’s Market and later Shelburne Farms.  When we got to the “Farm” we were surprised how big it was. From the shore to the rocky lake cliffs you couldn’t see the other side of the ever expansive fields of green grass. We camped in a small cave of woods up from the road, and met the groundskeeper, a descendant of Cornelius Vanderbuilt. He told us the story of the farm and how it came to be a non-profit organization and teaching farm. 

The following day we arrived at the Lake Champlain Waldorf High School, where we met Rosa Dews, our semester mate who had gotten injured on the winter trail.  She had a knee operation in April and is now on her way to healing.  Rosa’s mother, Bet, is the Life Science teacher at the Waldorf School and she taught us about flower biology and botany. The next morning we joined the 11^th grade class for another interesting botany lesson. The visit to the school was topped off with pizza and ice cream.  All of the faculty and students were incredibly hospitable to us and gave us a fun time. Thank you Bet! Thank you faculty and students!  We now were on our way to Barn Rock Harbor, where we stayed for three nights. From there we visited the Maritime Museum to see where our boats came from. We did some conservation work in the lab there as well, scraping rust from Revolutionary musket shot. 

Solos came and went, and I cannot say how it was for the others, but it seemed that everyone was in high spirits about it. We fasted for 24 hours and had the fires listen. Although my solo was meditative I got bored pretty fast and was spooked by the dark woods a few times. When we got back Emily and Zack had made a feast for us of bread and soup and chocolate biscuits!

Days of rowing brought us to the Narrows of Dresden, the thinnest part of the lake, where it is hardly a lake, but a swampy river moving to nowhere. That day was our only inclement weather in which it rained good and clean. For our last camp we perched on a muddy cliff in a grove of beech, sleeping to the sound of railroads and night winds. By 6 AM we were back in our boats rowing to Lake Champlain Canal Lock 12 in Whitehall NY. The locks are huge yellow vault doors that granted us entrance and let us rise in our boats over fifteen feet to the canal elevation, over a distance of two hundred feet in seven minutes. Passing through the other end to the Lake Champlain Canal, we completed our journey of the lake and it’s treasures. We arrived at a park in Whitehall and greeted Lisl, who brought a different treasure, food and stories. Fresh bagels, milk and yogurt from Kroka’s cow Daisy as well as cheese and Russian sausages made a holiday of eating. 

From here on only twelve more days away we will cross paths, dear readers, with base camp at Kroka once again. And from there only one more week till we see YOU. Till then we will be bicycling and experiencing the last adventures of our journey.

Hasta la vista, Max Rubin.

At the blacksmith shop at the Lake Champlain Maritime Museum

Leaving Lake Champlain Maritime Museum and heading back to camp across the lake

NHVSP Update 11

Canada, here we come!

Leaving Northwoods

Finally, news from the traveling semester! As of late, things have been ebb and flow. Life is moving at a swift pace, and despite much needed downtimes we’ve been making out pretty well. We started out on the Clyde River on a cold grey morning with nothing spectacular about it. In fact it seemed like the weather was trying to downplay our grand departure. The Clyde, when we left, was higher than high water average. All along the first half of the river run, the downed trees we had seen earlier during our training runs and had passed under before, now barred our progress downstream. The whole run down the Clyde really sharpened everyone up to white-water paddling. In both our river sections we had only two flipped boats, both of which were on slack water.

Good bye Northwoods

         The end of the Clyde brought us to Lake Memphremagog and Newport, the last town we saw in the U.S. before crossing the border into Canada. We went up the lake in a strong headwind and had a fine lunch of tuna sandwiches by a cemetery. We crossed the border in warm sunshine and got to the Canadian customs house. There was nobody there at the booth, but there was a telephone we had to use to call the border police. We had a hilarious conversation, telling the border guard that we had twelve people in canoes wanting to come into Canada. He asked us if we had alcohol or tobacco, told us to write down how many we were and that was the end of Canadian customs. We would learn later that American customs was not as funny or easy to pass through.

The Grand Portage

         When we got to Canada, it just had that feeling of a totally different place. We landed at the town of Vale Perkins, a small niche with a general store. We did the Grand Portage in flawless style. Six miles one way with all our gear to the headwaters of the Mississqoui River, and back the next day to Vale Perkins to collect our boats, which we had stashed at the general store upon our arrival the day before. Three sisters, the Jewetts, run the store. We met the eldest of the three, Sandra, for a story telling. These were not ordinary stories though, but heart felt narratives of treasured memories. She told us stories of real community, now gone in modern Vale Perkins.

         After the stories, we met the other two sisters, Caroll and Jane. The Jewetts are all characters in their own right. They’re what I call “the classiest women in the bar.” They were ladies, all three of them, but they were still the farmers’ daughters, who weren’t afraid to say what they wanted to and who’d step with anyone, gal or guy.

In Vale Perkins with the "Jewetts"

         We moved our boats with haste back to our riverside camp. I will tell you the Mississqoui is not far different from the Clyde. In fact I figure it to be far less grand on account of it going through so many farm fields. At our camp we had visitors, Glen and Jannet. These folks had met us at Northwoods earlier in the month and living in this area they decided they’d stop by and check us out when we crossed paths. That day was my birthday, and they brought us a surprise dinner of salad, lasagna and a birthday cake. What hospitality.

Zack with our friends and supporters, Glenn and Jannet

         On the Mississqoui we went back down and into the States, which was a bit of a hassle. The customs officers didn’t know what to do with us, and we really made their day, I guess, all twelve of us smelling up their tiny office. We passed through though, and made it safe into the U.S. again.

         Later that day we met Kevin from Mahoosuc Guide Service in Newry, Maine. Kevin is the other half of the business with our friend, Polly, who we met earlier at Northwoods. Kevin is an old school paddler and backwoods river man. He was soft spoken and had good stories to tell us and teach. He only stayed for two days, but he was a good old cat and we had much to learn from him.

         We’ve been on a craft kick lately making white pine bark containers. Zack showed us how to peel the bark off, which comes off clean in cut sections when you score it with a knife. After that you bend if to shape, and dig up some yellow birch roots, which you split to sew together the opened sides. Everyone’s been in a frenzy about them, making these containers in force, myself being most guilty of this. We also had a wild edibles class and a fresh feast of cooked greens, straight from the field we were camped in.

         Today, we are here on Lake Champlain; we’ve made it, with all members of our crew intact. We switched our boats, sending back the white water canoes to Kroka with Nathan and hopping in our new boats from the Maritime Museum. They’re big, powerful, and cool. We’ve paddled hard into the wind, and have made it to our first camp. We are excited and ramped up to get going in our new pirate ships. All is well and we’ll be reporting in soon, till then hasta la vista.

Max Rubin

Emily, our fearless leader

Girls time

Who is this???