It’s always been a part of me, that kindred spirit to the outdoors; the desire for adventure and to explore, especially around moving water. Now on the front side of a Spring Break from school, and after five months of a constant flow of Joe Robinet YouTube videos, I had the opportunity to venture forth. So far our staff at school has put in 122 school days of teaching to both the in-school students as well as to the remote learners; teaching to both groups at the same time each day for six periods in a row. We need a break to catch our breath and decompress before finishing out the final two months.
The first couple of days of Spring looked to be the nicest for dry weather and what could be deemed as warm air for the end of March. I decided to go on an outdoor adventure in an area that is about as close to “The Middle of Nowhere” as you can find in and around where I live. It's pretty wild, and sort of forgotten as most places go, which is why I love it. The bottomlands and waterways are near and dear to my heart, which is also why I try to visit it as often as possible. This would be the first time that I would visit while on an overnight canoe trip with my old aluminum canoe loaded with gear. I figured that I would camp alongside a chosen riverbank somewhere along the way where I could refresh my spirit while making a kindred connection to the moving waters and its surrounding environment.
Cindy was encouraging when I got bogged down while preparing my equipment. Sometimes I get stuck between that desire for wanting to do something and a paralyzing fear that it won’t work, it will be too difficult, or it’s just not worth it. Often this feeling occurs before I head out on a solo adventure. I don’t have the latest & greatest gear, but what I do have is good and efficient. It was more than what I could fit into my kayak and be safe, however, so after some debate I opted to venture forth in my beat up, $10 canoe. Dad spotted it in a garage sale several decades ago, and it’s been a great “barge” for many outings with various friends and family over the years. With its luxurious cargo space, I wouldn’t have to worry about having room for my tent, sleeping bag, and a small bag of clothes and food. I could bring what I needed, pack it tight, and still have room; giving me a necessary peace of mind. Assurance was something I needed in order to maneuver the river and its obstacle of downfalls.
Early on it was the strong wind out of the South that proved to be my worthy adversary. While it provided warmth, so that I only needed a long sleeved shirt, I had to battle the wind’s strength when it pushed up rolling waves and wanted to drive my canoe contrary to where I needed it to go. I depended heavily upon my paddle while using the currents to help provide the dexterity that was required to shoot between trees sticking up out of the surface.
I started in the early afternoon, after Cindy dropped me off, so that I could have ample time to paddle and explore before setting up camp prior to night fall. As I paddled, I spotted an eagle’s nest. I got out of the canoe, and snuck as close as I dared possible to remain undetected and yet still get a picture. Once I continued on, I realized that after traveling the next couple of bends, I would flow directly underneath the massive nest of sticks. At the same time I saw a mink exploring along the bank. I chose to free float for a few minutes, and managed to get a couple of pictures despite the mink’s constant movement, before drifting under the eagle nest. I finished, and got the camera put away a split second before I was blasted by the wind to such a degree that I had to dig my paddle in and pull hard to avoid hitting some submerged logs and being driven back upstream.
CLICK BELOW FOR A VIDEO THAT
TRACKS ME ON A FEW BENDS IN THE RIVER:
(To watch the videos you may need to change the "view version"
at the bottom of the page.)
After two hours I found a perfect side channel to paddle up into and set up my tent on a grassy bank. I managed to even cut up a small stack of dried maple for firewood before the sun set. For dinner I heated up beef stew and made biscuit-cakes fried in butter. I washed it down with a cup of hot cocoa. Once dark, the stars screamed their presence as they were more numerous than the chorus of hidden spring peepers croaking in the water filled marsh grasses. I loved seeing the stark outline of Orion the Hunter, his belt, and the corresponding stars of Betelgeuse (shoulder) and Rigel (at his knee). Much like the constellations of Cassiopeia the Queen, and the Big & Little Dipper, I always feel a kindred relationship to these formations and seek them out whenever possible. Despite the light off from the quarter moon, I could also see Orion’s bow as well as his dog, Canis Major, trailing behind him with one of the brightest stars in the night sky (Sirius) located at the dog’s neck.
CLICK BELOW FOR A VIDEO THAT RECORDS
YIPPING COYOTES-HONKING GEESE & A GNAWING BEAVER
(To watch the videos you may need to change the "view version"
at the bottom of the page.)
Orion The Hunter-Just below The Moon
I was in my tent by 9:00 where I read and wrote in my journal for a spell before turning off my headlamp. I then tucked down into my sleeping bag with our old wool blanket wrapped up and around me; using it as both a pad and a cover. After having run 10 miles that morning, packing, and then paddling, I was tired!
Burning Energy On A 10 Mile Run Before Packing
Sleep was intermittent but good. I was relaxed, but there was so much going on around me that I didn’t want to miss out on experiencing it all. Every few hours various packs of coyotes (Canis latrans) yipped and howled to the North, South, and East. Great horned owls called over the backwater bottomlands in their muffled booms, while barred owls asked who had been doing my cooking between hair-raising laughing and cackling. The beavers that had been at work in the channel beside me moaned while gnawing on trees; occasionally slapping their tails in alarm. With my ear pressed to the ground over my thin pillow, I could hear the hopping leaps of the mice around my tent as they bounded through the dried grass and investigated the intrusion within their territory.
Earlier in the evening I had heard and seen mallards, the sharp designs of the wood duck, and squadrons of Canadian geese. By morning I had also heard the rattling croaks of sandhill cranes and turkeys gobbling at the sunrise before flying down out of their lofty roosts.
I went out at the first rays of light, when the birds began their succession of calls, to capture in pictures the colors of the sky. The beaver, probably tired after a night of chewing twigs, swam past me and out into the main channel of the river. I also saw three raccoons along the far bank, as well as another mink that was running at full speed as if it had forgotten something or was late for an appointment.
CLICK BELOW FOR A VIDEO OF THE SOUNDS OF
MORNING BIRDS & GREAT HORNED OWLS:
(To watch the videos you may need to change the "view version"
at the bottom of the page.)
It felt good to simply stand in place and listen to the water moving amongst the myriad sounds of nature. It was inspiring. In fact, although it took a while, I eventually forced myself back to my tent to both read and journal before a deer tick slowly made its way over my wool blanket. That was enough to jump start me into action! After checking through my gear and not finding any others, I broke down my camp, began to pack gear into my canoe, and started a fire for breakfast. While I was cutting up the potatoes and sausage, a muskrat swam past me and under the grassy embankment.
Once I had eaten, I shoved off and began paddling for my take out point. The air, although cool, was warm enough that I only needed to wear a T-shirt. While paddling I came upon two eagles, who with wings outstretched, were drying out after an apparent dive into the river for a fish breakfast.
It took me an hour to reach my wife who was waiting for me in our old silver Jeep. Our dog Kora was with her, and although she too was excited to see me, I think she was slightly put-out that I hadn’t brought her along. Perhaps on my next river run!
I’ve camped in various places a bazillion times with my family, or friends, as well as by myself. Often it’s been in a campground of some form or another. This was the first time I’ve ever gone by myself and camped in a wild area where if I yelled at the top of my lungs, nobody would ever hear me. I suppose it was somewhat scary; not because of any thoughts of a Bogeyman or Sasquatch, but rather the unknown. Although I was hardly gone 24 hours, what I found was what I had searched for; solitude and a connection. The call of the wild in all its forms, tied to the lure of moving water, is my kindred spirit.
See you along The Way...
Remember to "Follow" me by filling in your email along the right hand side of my blog so that you're notified when I post my next adventure!
It was cold, no doubt about it. Between the temperature and slight wind, apparently it felt like 20 something below zero. I was a good boy and corrected some school work first, and then I began gathering my gear together to head outside. Today I’d have the woods all to myself.
My son and daughter-in-law Emeris are heading to Kenya, Africa this coming Saturday. It was around this same time 4 years ago that Todd and I had talked and began making arrangements to go to Africa together. It was a monumental trip that was life changing in some ways and memorable in others. I thought about these things as I packed and drove out to the river bottomlands here in the Illinois-Wisconsin Stateline area.
Todd and Emeris are flying into Nairobi, Kenya, and then driving down to Kijani Farm; just north of the village of Maili Tisa and the Tanzania border, under the shadow of Black Hill. Our friends Brian & Heather Dellamater are in the midst of their fifth year establishing Kijani to help provide water, care, and a community with the Maasai tribe that live in that area. Todd & Emeris are going together as a couple to see the ministry first hand and contemplate possible roles they may be able to take to assist in the endeavor.
In honor of this undertaking, and to that end, I chose to use things from Africa within my polar vortex adventure. I dressed with an underlayer, and then topped that off by wearing both my Kijani Farm T-shirt and sweatshirt. Since it was cold enough, I also wore a scarf around my neck that I had purchased from Africa.
The snow was powdery in the frigid temperatures. Almost nearing 20 inches deep, I used my traditional snowshoes; a necessity in the backwoods this year. Once I was back off the beaten path (which itself was actually non-existent), I settled in alongside my river of choice. I packed down a circular area, collected some firewood, and then dug down to the ground level to create a space to build a fire. As a fire starter I used my familiar steel striker along with a rock I had brought home from Africa. I had picked up several of the same kinds of rocks one day while walking some of the wild areas around Kijani Farm. I had discovered the rock's ability to make sparks quite by accident those years ago when at night I had emptied my pockets outside of our tent before going to bed. Upon tossing them at the base of a thorny acacia tree next to our tent, a shower of sparks were thrown off when they collided against each other. It was one of these kinds of rocks that I used with my steel to start the fire on this freezing cold day, but in reality, I could just as easily struck the rock against another similar rock to gain the spark that would provide the necessary warmth.
For my meal, I used a hand crafted knife from Africa; the sheath is of dyed cowhide. Typically I come to the woods with my food already cut up, but for this outing I used the knife to cut up the potato, meat, and cheese. It worked great, but it was at about that time that I realized that I had forgotten my frying pan. I had washed my old Teflon one, but while it had been drying, I had considered whether I should haul out my cast iron skillet instead. Apparently the decision had been made to not bring either of them, but nobody had consulted me on that choice! So instead I poured the water that I had started boiling in my pot, back into a thermos, and used that old aluminum pot to cook my brunch. It didn’t work too bad, but the cocoa I had later was a bit chunky and contained some extra protein.
While it would have been fun to sit and contemplate the world and perhaps write in my journal, the temperature wasn’t really going to let me do that. At negative 5 degrees Fahrenheit (-20° C), and the afternoon waning under cloudy skies, it was only going to get colder and my toes were already becoming numb. I needed to start moving. Besides, it was Valentine’s Day and my wife Cindy and I were going to get something to eat and watch a movie that evening.
I repacked my supplies and gear, thinking of Todd and Emeris as they prepare to travel to the flip-side of the Earth. While we are freezing here in the Midwest, the Dellamater’s have said that it’s in the upper 80’s there (°F). And while we have had a lot of snow this season, southern Kenya has actually gotten some rain during what usually is their dry season. Things will look green for them on this trip. In addition, the experience will most likely bring perspective. Africa can do that. Not a perspective that’s better or worse, just a perspective of clarity in the midst of what can sometimes appear cloudy. It’s probably like the cold, crisp air that surrounded me on this day, and filled my lungs; it’s acuteness demanded my attention and focused my awareness.
It was with that line of contemplation that I kicked out the fire, strapped on my snowshoes, and began hoofing it out. The air and snow, while cold, certainly was beautiful, and I enjoyed looking back over the winding trail I was leaving through the trees and frozen backwater ponds. I smiled to myself as I turned back and remembered the various items I had used on this adventure that were linked to Kenya, Africa and Kijani Farm. It was a perfect African Winter Outing as I reflected on my own experience in Africa, the purpose of Kijani, and the trip that Todd & Emeris are about to embark upon.
I’ve been mulling over the idea of mosaic structures for the last few days. A mosaic art form of random and diversified pieces of interest arranged to create a picture of life itself. The instructor I had throughout my Master’s Degree often talked about life as a tapestry, in which individual threads were woven within the fabric. Those threads and broken shards of ceramic or glass are intricacies that make us who we are. And those intricacies of course hold both the brilliant facets as well as the whispered pieces we like to keep private or secret. Therefore, some of it is visible, and some of it is hidden behind other, more prominent aspects that are in the forefront. Together our lives are synergistic in the way that the parts together construct the whole of our existence.
I’ve heard it said that our lives are metaphorically composed of seasons, blended into foundational stories that create us. It’s probably a bit more simple than that for me. I just love the seasons. I love the winter for the air’s crispness and the chance to measure yourself with the elements of cold, wind, and snow. I love the spring for the air’s freshness and the newness of life rising up from the roots, a personification of what we often term as second chances. I love the summer for the air’s warmth and the opportunity to cast a line, or dive into liquid water. I love the autumn for the air’s pungent smell, and the hint of change as plants die back into dormancy and living organisms hunker down before the return of winter.
Each season has its draw and purpose, and as a life-long resident of the Great Lakes Region, it’s ingrained into the very fibers of my DNA. Regardless of the seasons, I run, read, and am outside as often as possible. I like to spend time on my own, but I also enjoy spending time with family, and friends; these days seemingly from a safe distance, out-of-doors, or on Zoom.
Yesterday, with the deep snow we’ve had this winter season, my dog Kora and I headed into the woods on snowshoes after meeting up with my friends Justin and Scott. We enjoyed talking and working hard trudging along through the bottomlands of a local river. We’ve done this sort of thing enough times over the years that when we set up our day camp to cook brunch, we all get to work on the chores necessary to complete a successful trip. It was good food, beautiful scenery, and great to have to use our snowshoes; especially on the doorstep of another storm as we added another eight inches of snow to the accumulation last night. (pictures of our trip to the woods below)
When I got home from our outing adventure yesterday, I put a whole chicken in the oven, took a walk with my wife Cindy, and then laid down for a quick nap. I also made the decision to get my long run in for the weekend, and ran 10 miles; finishing as the first of the storm’s flakes began to fall. After cleaning up, I pulled meat from the baked chicken and added it to noodles and a creamy mushroom sauce that Cindy had prepared. It was a perfect meal to eat while sitting and relaxing together after a busy day.
When I reflect on days like yesterday, I picture those mosaic works of art, or the tapestries of woven threads, and see clearly the aspects that make me who I am. Sometimes I jump into adventures or interests when the opportunities present themselves. At other times I think I push myself from activity to activity until I don’t have a lot of energy left, simply as a way to deal with stress. For some reason this process is relaxing to me and restful; whether it’s voraciously reading through a book, completing a long distance run, or snowshoeing the winterland.
May you find the venues that make you tick, and that are a part of the larger mosaic or tapestry of your life.
I’m not rushing the process. In fact, I border on savoring the process. I prepped my gear last night and then this morning I put it together and hiked into one of my absolute favorite spots in this (Illinois-Wisconsin) Stateline area. The ridges I hiked, the bottomlands I traversed, and the riverbank I now overlook are sacred. It’s that simple.
Oftentimes I come into an area such as this, and after making a fire, cooking, and then eating, I am left to wonder what just happened as I hike back out. While I enjoy every opportunity to head out into the woods, it’s times like that when I wish I’d paused long enough to simply take everything in, sense it on all accounts, and not be in such a hurry. I guess in those situations I typically feel as though I should have stopped and smelled the roses. Today I’m doing just that.
I took a few pictures, but not like I usually do. Instead I set up my phone and made a simple video of what has become routine at this point. I let it run and only paused it a couple of times until the battery died. It will be interesting to watch it on the flipside of this outing. It will document what I do; from fire to meal.
So I am left here next to the fire. My dog Kora is beside me on her flannel lined blanket as we share a fleece. She stares out into the woods keeping watch of any movements and things unseen by my own eyes. My boots and gaiters steam from the radiating heat, and the river water in my pot boils in preparation for my second cup of cocoa. In the meantime I write. It’s what I like to do.
Today it’s what I want to do, because we’re about to enter a long stretch at school as we continue to push onward. I feel as though I need this time to gather myself before the wintertime marathon. Getting out here is my fuel; where I can hear the crows, geese, and eagles in the distance, and the breezes rattling the remnant leaves as they move through the bare branches. For this I am thankful.
We have today off from school in honor of Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday. While I am grateful for this day off in order to be where I am today, I ponder what propelled him in those difficult circumstances. As I sit on this riverbank, deep in snow, listening to the hiss of the dying fire, I am left to wonder in awe at a man who with character and ambition pushed onward beyond doubt, fear, pain, and the exhaustion against seemingly insurmountable odds to work for something greater than himself. Fighting with love, he worked for and talked about what a model of freedom could look like; a battle that was a hundred years in the making since the mark of the Civil War.
Although Dr. King had spoken of this dream for equality several times beforehand, on the day of the “March on Washington” in 1963, it was said that he had taken some of the ideas behind his “dream” out of his speech. Thank goodness for the encouragement from Mahalia Jackson who reminded him of his dream while he was in the middle of talking from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. Following Mahalia’s comment, “Tell them about the dream Martin.” he paused, laid aside his prepared notes, and spoke from the heart. Imagine that. Imagine the courage; a courage of confidence and knowledge of what to say, and how to say it.
That my friends is bravery at its finest. Imagine what was going on behind the scenes. Yet, despite the hatred and ignorance around him, he ventured forth and continued on with a team of support behind him, and a mass of humanity before him. What a legacy of love, sacrifice, and servanthood. For a people. For a nation. Thank you Dr. King for what you spoke then and continue to teach even now, almost 60 years later.
Today, beside my fire and its embers, Dr. King’s legacy is definitely worth thinking about and contemplating with reflection. It leads me to think about my own growth, character, and maturation. I savor that process of understanding.
See you along The Way...
--------------------
CLICK BELOW FOR THE VIDEOS THAT FOLLOW WHAT I DO TO PREPARE FOR MY FIRE AND MEAL
PART#1
PART#2
(To watch the videos you may need to change the "view version"
