Ten Year Deja Vu

Louie, Scott, Ric, & Me
2013

My friend Louie and I had been having end of the school year adventures since the spring of 2009.  So when we opened it up to other teaching colleagues in 2013, it was the birth of what would become a gathering of guys; later known as the Gulo Adventure Clan.

While attending the Canoecopia Expo in Madison Wisconsin the spring of 2009, I saw an exhibit advertising a “Paddle to Work Day.”  That birthed a plan in my mind that perhaps I could create a rendition of that idea.  The creeks and rivers near the school where I teach run south towards Rockford, Illinois where my family and I lived at the time.  I began to scheme how I could perhaps paddle down to our house from work.

Louie became my go-to guy for paddling home in kayaks once spring arrived; or should I say, we attempted to paddle home.  We had to finish that particular journey in 2010 and make it a two part experience.  Someday I’ll write a blog post about that crazy trip!  Afterwards, Louie and I added to our end of the school year adventures with a bike ride to New Glarus in 2011, and a rather lengthy hike in 2012 when we walked from school down to my house about 15 miles to the south.  To this end, our 2013 school year outing was expanded to involve other gullible staff members willing to jump in with us for a taste of adventure.  Our objective was to enter into Dry Run Creek beyond the field next to Prairie Hill School, cross the Wisconsin Stateline, and slog against the current up to Highway#67; where the creek flows under the roadway just east of the small Beloit Airport.  “Why,” you might ask?  Why not?!

We gathered in the school’s parking lot and then hiked down to the intersection of Willowbrook and Prairie Hill Road.  Four of us had agreed to be a part of the expedition; Louie, Scott, Ric, and myself.  Wearing old shoes, we stepped down into the slow moving water.  It was freezing cold from the get-go, and as we stood in calf deep water looking at each other, we knew at once that this was going to be tough!  We hadn’t even gotten close to some of the upcoming deep bends or log jams before one of us flat-out stated, ‘I’m not hiking in this!”  As I said, the water was cold, and although it was partly sunny, the air was just about as cool.  We wore long sleeve shirts but I suppose hypothermia, when walking in cold water over an extended period of time, was a real thing!

So it was spontaneously agreed upon that instead of hiking in the creek, we would instead walk beside it; up along its banks.  On the plus side, and to help sooth our change in plans, we were scheduled to stop halfway to our destination at Raymond and Diane’s home.  They lived on the banks of Dry Run Creek in a relaxed country setting.  Diane, who was a paraprofessional aide in my classroom that year, had agreed to have a meal of sloppy joes ready for us upon hearing what we had planned.  Unfortunately, due to the fact that we were now hiking the banks instead of against moving water, we arrived more than an hour ahead of time.  Fortunately we came in only mildly muddy and damp, as opposed to soaking wet and cold.  In addition, our hosts were more than accommodating to the surprise time change and simply relished the opportunity to talk, visit, and feed us.  As our rag-tag crew settled in, we balanced the hospitality with laughter and conversations; some about the history of the area.  Louie and I promised Scott and Ric that our trips of the past had not gone quite so easily; that pain, blood, and at least a minimal amount of suffering were typically some of the necessary ingredients within our excursions.  They nodded as if they understood while mumbling something through mouths stuffed with food.  When our bellies were full and we were ready to start again, we took a few pictures with Ray and Diane that are now misplaced or lost due to time, waved goodbye, and then continued north by northeast across the road and into an open cow pasture through which the creek meandered.  We were soon to cross the invisible Illinois-Wisconsin state line.

It was a couple of hours later that we emerged next to the small Wisconsin state highway.  We took a picture together sitting on a bridge that spanned the creek; used during the winter months as a way to link the intricate snowmobile trail system.  The picture is a classic as pictures go, because it was the first snapshot ever taken of a collection of guys outside of just Louie and I on one of our outings.  Our group of four talked and walked the one mile incline to the airport where my wife picked us up.  Our day trip ended up being slightly different from what we had originally expected, but as successful adventures tend to go, we were adaptable to the circumstances and came away with some good memories.

It was with those pictures from 10 years ago etched in our minds that we gathered once again last month.  It was like deja vu!  A simple get-together, but one that allowed us to reconnect.  As with most people, our lives look different than they did a decade ago.  Over that time much has happened and we’ve had a plethora of additional gatherings, in all kinds of environments and weather conditions, with other colleagues and friends.

At this most recent gathering, we had a short hike out near the Sugar River before enjoying the conversations around an old limestone hearth that encompassed a crackling fire.  Within that setting we enjoyed eating good food cooked in the largest of skillets.  Who knew, when we first came together on the banks of a cold, local creek, that ten years later our adventures would continue to be meaningful?  The origins of what we actually have gained through steadfast friendships can be significant, as we mark the passage of time again and again with similar gatherings.  Deja vu!

See you along The Way…

Myself, Scott, Louie, & Ric
Deja Vu - Ten Years Later
2023

Simply Put

Simply put, it was a hike in the woods.  I had the day off from school and the morning free to get outside.  I didn’t need anything else other than that to motivate me.  The ground held a thin layer of snow, the air temperature was in the mid 20’s, and the skies were overcast and gray; although by the afternoon they could have been classified as partly cloudy.

My destination was familiar; as familiar as any place you have consistently visited over many years.  It was the kind of place that becomes chronicled in your memory bank once its existence is known.  I have many locations like that; whereabouts lodged in my mind that occasionally come to the forefront at seemingly random times.  Often it’s when I least expect it, but need it most.

I can remember teaching a lesson at school decades ago.  I was talking to my students, and writing something on the whiteboard, while at the same moment in my mind, I was wading and looking at a specific bend in a blue ribbon trout stream up in Northern Michigan.  I was engaged with my class, I knew what I was saying, and yet simultaneously I was trying to read the currents of the water to figure out where I should pitch my lure.  Some might categorize this as daydreaming, or if they gave me credit, perhaps they’d say I was multitasking.  But it was deeper than that, or at least different.  While fully engaged in one situation, I was mentally engaged in another.  Simply put, it was transcendental.

Since that moment in my classroom, I’ve mentally camped, hiked, fished, snowshoed, and cooked-out thousands of times; often while taking part in a different activity.  It’s allowed me to partake in an out-of-body visit to my most memorable destinations that are scattered throughout the Northland.  Simply put, it’s these mental trips that help bridge the gap between now and the times when I can actually get there in person.

With that being said, the familiar destination I was hiking to that particular winter morning was not as important as who I was going out with.  My Dad was joining me.  In true dad fashion, he often walks the streets of his neighborhood, the aisles of the supermarket with my Mom, or the trails of a local preserve so he can be in the shape needed to partake in such an excursion.  At 81 ½ now, he’s still got it.  Simply put, our hike gave him an excuse (as if he needed one) to put some gear together in his pack; equipment to carry on his back to add to our outing.

He arrived at our house before 9:00 that morning, and as he parked his car, he texted Mom that he was here safe and sound.  I said goodbye to my wife Cindy, and then we loaded our packs and my dog Kora into the old Silver Jeep.  We drove, and talked, and after reaching the dead end road where we would park the vehicle, set off with packs on our back and walking sticks in our hand.  An open vista, overlooking a wide valley, is where we started before descending into a valley and the forested bottomlands of a frozen river.

The total round trip distance was something like three and a quarter miles.  We set up a day camp, gathered firewood, and on a high bank overlooking the river, made a fire.  I had prepared all of the typical breakfast food ahead of time, and hauled in my iron skillet to cook it.  Classic!  Although it wasn’t any more classic than sitting around the fire afterwards, drinking hot chocolate, and talking about life.

I’m continually amazed, and often wonder, how he was able to be the Dad he was when his own Dad had died when he was so young.  In addition to his Mom (my Grandma), who was it that helped to guide and mold him into the person that he is?  What experiences did he have, and what men stepped up to model how life was to be lived?

Questions like that were the centerpoint of our discussion.  Some of the stories were familiar.  Some of the stories were new.  I need to sit, hear them again, and write them down so that I don’t forget them. They’re important.  Not just in how he grew up, but for me personally; the first generation on the flip-side of a difficult circumstance.  It will be worthy of a journal entry or blog post in the future.  It’s where the boot meets the trail so to speak, when his story becomes my history.

After burning through the collected hickory logs, we put out our fire, donned our packs, and together with Kora, hiked on out.  It was about that time that the skies became partly cloudy, and the sun glistened off the prairie that’s on the backside of the woods that hugs the river.  It was an awesome setting for a memorable experience.  Simply put, it’s another outing chronicled in my memory bank where I can easily access it, and revisit it as often as I like, while doing something else.  At least until we can actually get out into the woods again.

See you along The Way…

Dad Hiking Through A Marsh (Mon: 1-17-22)

Starting A Fire From Flint & Steel

The Dursten Cup Was A Gift From Todd & Emeris
For Christmas - The Spoon Is From Africa

Kora & Dad Enjoying Each Other's Company
And The View Of The Woods

The Remains Of A Green Ash Tree
And Trails Left Behind By The Green Ash Borer

The Hike Out Together

Closing The Gap On Social Distancing

Crazy.  That’s probably one way to describe the last week or so.  Scary, frustrating, and stressful could possibly be other feelings used to illustrate how we’ve felt, and what has happened, since the coronavirus-19 suddenly became more real (COVID-19).  I’m not sure anything has ever happened like this before. A friend of mine remembers being off from school seventy years ago, when he was in 1st grade, due to the polio epidemic. My own parents don’t remember being off from school, as they themselves were in the 4th or 5th grade at the time, but like my friend, they remember having limited activities throughout the summer months and waiting for a vaccine; soon enough presented in a sugar cube.  Of course there have been other events in our world’s most recent history that have “stopped the presses;” from measles and world wars, to the attack on September 11th. Each was catastrophic in their own right. But this virus seems far reaching beyond any boundaries, and without any care of who is infected. Hence the worldwide shut downs.

Somehow when all is said and done, we’ll look back at this pandemic and recognize our health care providers, and those working in essential businesses, as gold medal recipients like we did our first responders after 9-11.  The coronavirus has been a violent disruption of what we’ve come to expect. When you think of those who have suffered from the disease, and maybe even died, the loved ones left behind who couldn’t be around them in the final moments, businesses that have had to close, events canceled, lives and livelihoods turned topsy-turvy, it can be downright depressing.  Humanity has been sucker punched. One of the hardest things to swallow is how quickly we’ve moved forward without any time to properly process what’s happened. While some of that was necessary to protect ourselves, and stop the spread of the virus, we’ve not allowed ourselves to mourn the loss. In the midst of being forced to step back and not be engaged with others, people find themselves substituting time with constantly being connected to social media and e-learning.  Something is going to give way at some point, over an extended period of time, and you can probably guess it will be in the realm of mental health.

And so we have social distancing to try to “push down the curve” that would otherwise reflect the escalating spread of the disease.  It has been with that in mind that I’ve run the local trails; sometimes with friends but always at a distance. It has also been with that in mind that I went out and cut firewood the other day.  But it was mostly with that in mind that I chose to go out for an outdoor adventure. It is, after all, our Spring Break. And since we’re not traveling, or even visiting our own parents or son & daughter-in-law to prevent any contamination, I went to the woods.  I was technically walking the dog and exercising, but quite simply it was essential to my well being. Regardless, I didn’t see a living soul, so social distancing was a moot issue.

By midmorning I had filled my backpack with the necessary gear, and along with an older pair of waders, lashed them both to an old sled that I intended to use as a sledge over dry land.  After hiking a respectable distance, I knew I was going to need to slog through some deeper sloughs, in some backwater areas, so I had to have something to help me haul the equipment it would take to get me through and up onto higher ground.  Together with our dog Kora, and my Silver Jeep (now equipped with new shocks and tires), I headed out.

It wasn’t hard to drag the sledge, but I wouldn’t say it was easy either; it was a workout for my back and legs.  I was fueled, however, with the desire to try something new to get to someplace familiar. With the area to ourselves, I stuck to fairly worn trails until I came upon a (Northern) bayou draining off an oxbow; swollen from a nearby river that was approaching flood stage.

The Sledge

I unlashed the gear, took off my tall boots, and put on my waders and backpack.  I left the sledge against a silver maple, and Kora on the bank, until I had found a respectable way across the water.  Fortunately I had brought along one of my hiking sticks; this one a relic my Dad had carved for me a few years back. Using it as a staff for balance in the current, I prodded the creek bed in front of me to regulate the depth and determine if there were any underwater structures in my way.  About halfway across the slough channel, when the water level was at my chest, I realized I had a slow leak in my waders. I felt cold water seeping down my right leg. It was still better than swimming across this time of the year!

Once I had made it to some higher, dry ground on the far bank, I unloaded my boots and backpack and tried to call Kora over to me.  Instead, she looked at me from afar, with an expression that said, “Are you crazy?” and stood her ground. I made my way back, just short of the main channel and managed to coax her into the water and up to me; encouraging her as she swam.  She really is a good swimmer, and reminds me of a little otter. I decided the sled turned sledge was fine where I had left it on the far bank until I returned later. Together, Kora and I continued the last 100 feet to where I had dropped my gear.  From this point it was a small jaunt back to the river itself. It was running high, which was the main reason I had needed to traverse the runoff of its water in waders. To get back into this section of the woods, however, it was what I had had to do.

CLICK BELOW FOR A VIDEO OF

KORA & I CROSSING THE SLOUGH:

I quickly unpacked, cut up some wood (chiefly hickory), and started a fire on the riverbank.  While the coals were forming, I took a few pictures and then began preparing our food. I also toweled off Kora and gave her a dry spot on which to lay down.   I was determined to enjoy this outing, and try not to rush from one thing to the next without taking the time to ponder and reflect on what’s been happening. Moreover, I felt fortunate at this point to be able to get out and have a chance to enjoy nature.  In the distance, and occasionally overhead, we were serenaded by the booming calls of several barred owls, the loud rattling of sandhill cranes, the honking of Canadian geese, the quacking of mallards, and the wailing cries of the shy wood ducks.

Once I had eaten and shared some of the food with Kora, I added cocoa to my hot water and tried to sit for a few minutes.  I often feel like a squirrel that is always on the move, but sitting still without having to constantly be doing something is important.  Through one mug of hot chocolate I sat and watched the water of the river sweep by, while occasionally adding wood to my small fire.

CLICK BELOW FOR A VIDEO OF

THE CRACKING FIRE ON THE RIVERBANK:

In addition, I journaled for a spell, took a few extended videos of the fire burning, and then had another mug full of cocoa while reading excerpts from the Bible.  Although I skipped around to various versus, I finally found myself centered on Hebrews#11; the chapter called, “The Hall of Faith.” The word faith is mentioned about 27 times in that chapter, and highlights those who came before us who both endured hardships and persevered.  Imagine that! Of course while they were living through their trials of life, they didn’t know how things would turn out in the end. Perhaps that’s why the very first verse at the beginning of chapter#12 states, “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses [those mentioned in chapter#11)], let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.” (NIV)  And what a race life is right now; resembling an ultra marathon, an obstacle course, or perhaps the swamps surrounding the backwater areas of a river. I think that’s why I keep seeing and hearing people refer to the mantra of, “Faith over fear, and Peace over panic.” True that! Until then, find the thing that refuels you. For me, on this outing, it was being nearer to nature, and creatively coming up with new ways to do what I like to do. And then, with that energy in your tank, reach out in some way, shape, or form to encourage somebody around you.  It will safely help to close the gap on this social distancing.

See you along The Way...

CLICK BELOW FOR A VIDEO OF

QUIET REFLECTIONS DURING

SOCIAL DISTANCING:

See you along The Way...