Kroka Vermont Semester 2016: Blog #6: Ending the Winter Leg

Front row: Savannah, Tanner, Kendal, Bea, Claudia
Second row: Hailey, Adam, Julian, Sam, Rory, Caleb, Finn, Sebi

On the morning of March 30, as we packed up our final winter trail campsite on a spit of the southern bank of the Willoughby River, the sun rose into the piercing clarity of an orange and pink sky that faded into blue. After days of rain, the clouds had blown out, leaving us to soak in the warmth of the sunlight as we walked our final 20 kilometers to our northern basecamp. We walked through the meadows, fields, bogs, and settlements of the Northeast Kingdom, and finally crossed the Clyde River, where we will eventually put our canoes in the water to begin our paddling expedition. We took a swim, dried our bodies in the sunlight, and, with songs in accompaniment, completed the final kilometer to Northwoods Stewardship Center. We lined our backpacks up for a last time at the stoop of the Center, set our long-term camp, and now we rest, study, celebrate, and turn our thoughts to spring.

The following is a story of our lives on the final leg of winter expedition.

Leg 3, Day 1: We left our layover at noon. The weather was ugly, and there was an inch of melting slush underneath us as we set out once more, northward bound on the Catamount Trail. A light drizzle was falling in the just-above-freezing weather. It was a short day of just 3km, and we set camp just north of Finn Basin.

“When we are done with camp set-up, we come inside to the open space of our warm candlelit tent. The everlasting scent of spruce needles covers the floor, and a big pot of food is awaiting us. To find these comforts is a luxury, but to have created this luxury is an accomplishment.”

-Savannah Clancy

Day 2: Today, the sun shone brightly as we broke camp and began to walk. It was a relaxed, easygoing day, filled with smiles and jokes. No one felt like rushing the nine kilometers that we had to walk today, so no one did. We meandered across many little hills and rushing streams, with breaks to drink from sweet springs. That evening, we set camp southeast of Burnt Rock Mountain, along the gurgling Cobb Brook, which had many fine swimming holes among its rocky banks.

Day 3: An unexpected rain poured down overnight and it continued to drizzle into the morning. That was somewhat of a predicament, as we had set camp in the middle of a depression in the land. After our soggy camp, we had a 15km walk to our next camp, which took us across little dirt roads and wooded trail, through sunny fields and shady hardwood forests. The walk, while uncomfortable from the added weight of the water accumulated on some of our gear, was balanced out by the glow of the warm sun. In true New England fashion, around noon a thunderstorm rushed in out of the north, raged for around 15 minutes, and was rapidly replaced by the warm sun once more. We reached our final destination as the sun dipped down over the western horizon. It was a little glen called Honey Hollow, surrounded by mountains, the largest of which was Camel’s Hump, looming tall to the north.

“The weather is too often described as good or bad, but as far as I can tell any weather and all weather is good weather. I can understand someone’s frustration with the weather. A big storm can do significant damage; even a little rain might change our plans for a day outdoors. However, to say that such incidents are bad seems less than fair. We might grumble about a rainstorm that lasts a day or so but we hardly appreciate the bottomless blue sky when it shows again. And if we should see nothing but blue sky for weeks we might not think anything of it until the grasses begin to brown and the streams and brooks come to a mere trickle. If it goes on long enough, this “good” weather, the plants will begin to die, the crops we rely on for food and wells or springs from which we get our precious water will dry up. Even those who curse the “bad” weather would be begging for the sky to open up and dump rain down upon their heads.”

-Sebi Crocetti

Day 4: This day marks the point at which we have been together for two months. It is incredible how fast these months sped by. But here we are, and it is so nearly spring. Geese fly northward overhead and robins and bluebirds can be heard. We are having a double live-over day, nestled along the rocky Preston Brook which dances down the center of Honey Hollow. We had a restful day, went swimming in the brook, and began to carve wooden spoons.

“If trees communicate, I doubt it is in the same way humans do – full of concrete words and to convey intention. I doubt it is in a manner that humans can perceive with our five, limited senses. I imagine it is softer, quieter, and subtler than what we are used to. It cannot be heard by the finest of ears, seen by the sharpest of eyes, smelt by the keenest of noses, tasted by the most sensitive of tongues, felt by the lightest of touches. It can, however, be felt somewhere deep inside; in a place you never learned the name of in anatomy class. Perhaps it feels like an emotion you know no word for, like a memory you cannot place, like a dream you long forgot. It is likely that we have all heard the trees speaking, at one time or another, but it is also likely that none of us realized. It is hard for us, us humans used to our five concrete senses, to pick up on the subtle language of the trees. It is truly only the trees that comprehend their own language. From the deepest of the roots, the tops of the highest branches, from the roughest of bark to the coolest of wood deep within, the trees feel their language. It reverberates through them, spreading through the trunk and jumping from one to another. Perhaps it is in this manner that trees speak.”

-Kendal Pittman

Day 5: Today, we plotted and executed navigation routes along the valley in small groups of 4 or 5 climbing the mountains surrounding us granting us views north, to the Winooski River and beyond, to the ice covered Mount Mansfield, showing us where we will be in only a few short days.

Day 6: Today we had a whopping trek of 25km ahead of us. We broke camp early and started our way north. We romped 3km down to the Winooski River, where we crossed with the long trail, walked along Route 2 for 2km and trekked back into the mountains on the other side of the lush green valley. When we finally reached camp, we were exhausted, but we swiftly set up our camp, and our large winter tent, which has come to symbolize warmth, comfort and home for all of us, for what may be the final time on semester.

Scratch

Of pens and pencils

Lit up

By the gentle red light

Of a dying headlamp

Intermittent

Chatter

Breaks through our

Pre-dinner

Class time

And a giggle

Sparks

A chain reaction.

-Hailey White

Day 7: It is our final expedition day before our group solos. Today we have the Bolton-Trapp traverse to hike, which would have been gnarly on skis but it is arguably just as gnarly with boots. It was a short yet steep climb up from camp with a long, wintery decent on the other side. The bottom was finally reached and we turned onto a dirt road, which led us to the Trout Club.

Trout Club: We had a day to rest and resupply in a little cabin at the Trout Club, which lay at the shore of Lake Mansfield. We had an eventful day, full of busy packing and planning routes and food and emergency plans for the group solos.

Group Solos, Day 1: Today marks the beginning of group solos. We divided into small groups of three or four, and after hours of preparation, we were ready to go at last. The group solos are our first real chance to test our new skills in the wilderness by ourselves, and get to know our little group even better than we already do. We all have slightly different routes, different campsites, and now the little groups set off, staggered by 30 minutes with our final goal to reconvene for our layover at Heartbeet in four days. We all hiked up over the lands around the Trapp Family Lodge found camp somewhere in the mountains on the other side. Groups traveled anywhere from 12 to 20km.

Why

Do we crave the convenience of

Home life when we find such pleasure,

In the long way around

Why

Do we huddle under a tarp

In the wet

When we all wish for a shower

Why

Do we pretend to know

What it is we write about

When we obviously do not.

-A possibly less wise old man than the other but still pretty close

Day 2: Today, we were to meet back up with the group at noon to visit with the Lepine Sisters, two women pushing 90 who have been farming the land since they were young. We semi successfully met up, after the group of Finn, Savannah and Sebi, made an...accidental 6-mile adjustment to their route. As is the way of the trail: “There is no wrong way, just the long way”. Anyways, we learned much from the Lepine sisters, who shared with us both their incredible stories, and fresh baked chocolate chip cookies. After our visit, we continued on to our various camps. On the day we traveled as little as 5km, and as much as 20km.

“For me, navigation is a precise and well-honed tool that allows us to discover and explore. I have always loved exploring the land around me, and discovering whatever I may discover. Perhaps sharing these discoveries is the best part. One morning before breakfast, I went on a walk down an old forest road by a brook. On my right I saw a large complex of old stone walls, depressed a few feet into the ground that might have been the remains of some old buildings foundation. I stopped and thought to myself, “Hmm, that’s pretty neat,” and kept walking. Later after breakfast, we all went and explored further. The conclusion was that this building was once some kind of mill. This and many other discoveries were brought to me by the wonderful powers of navigation. Always have your compass.”

-Julian Lindholm-Fiske

Day 3: Today was a long-anticipated day, yet probably not for the reason you would expect. The little town of Elmore lay along our routes and we had each been given a little bit of money to buy a dinner, a breakfast and a lunch. You seriously have no idea how exited a group of 13 teenagers get over three meals. When we found our respective camps in the evening, we had covered as much as 22km.

“On trail, meals become just about as special as the holidays, if not more special, depending on what the next meal is. On trail, meals are looked forward to like Christmas and Thanksgiving. It seems like forever in between each meal, as it does between these holidays that occur only annually. You feel like you wait so long for a meal and when it is finally time to eat, that is all you can think about, and nothing is more important to you during this time. But it all goes by so quickly; as soon as a meal has begun it seems to have ended as you clean out your bowl with tea, wondering where all the food went, wishing you could have more. This again parallels the holidays. You have such a good time celebrating with family and friends that the day seems to run away from you seemingly ending as soon as it began, wishing you could have more time to celebrate. Soon after a meal is over you immediately think about the next, just as you would begin to plan out the next holiday the day after it has it ended.”

-Tanner Bogner

Day 4: Today was our final day in small groups. Most of us had long days on our way to Heartbeet but we all walked up the dirt road by 6pm. This concluded our group solos, and we all had many fun stories to share with each other.

Heartbeet: For our final layover, we spent a day at Heartbeet. Heartbeet is a Camphill Community, based off of the views of Rudolf Steiner, and is a therapeutic residence where adults with developmental disabilities live alongside the land and people around them. We spent the day living in the wonderful community we were surrounded by. It was Easter, and we joined in with their traditions and ceremonies, and helped with work on the land.

The Final Days: We have reached the final three days of our winter, if you could call it that. Since we left base camp on February 11 (a date that seems like it was just yesterday and eons ago at the same time), it has been phenomenal to witness the growth of our little community. We have greatly strengthened, both individually and as a group, and we have gone from 13 people who barely know each other, to what seems like 13 brothers and sisters. Our last three days of hiking were wet and cold, with the sun only showing itself on the last day. We had three long days to make it to our end goal of Northwoods Stewardship Center, a place that had once seemed so far away. When we finally walked up the road to Northwoods after three 20+km days in a row, we knew our winter was over. We had just hiked 250 miles up the length of Vermont, and looking back on all the memories created, all the smiles shared, and all the thousands of steps taken, I know it is a memory that we will all dearly treasure, as long as we live.

From here, Semester will travel to Koviashuvik Local Living School in Temple, Maine. We will work with two of the original semester guides: Ashirah and Chris Knapp, on homesteading skills, crafts, and community living before our return to Northwoods and preparation for spring expedition. The journey continues.