NHVSP 2010 Update 3

To our far away readers,

I write to you as the sheets of rain play melodies on the slate roof of my dwelling. I listen closely and hear the ballad unfold, its tempo ever changing with the wind. Soon the wind joins in with its sorrow-filled howl, and it’s not long before the trees are swaying to the music of the rainstorm. So I sit here, in my wool sweater, with my feet tucked under the stove, and I unfold to you the beginning of our journey.

This week we filled the days with sewing our anoraks. We spent four days following careful steps and now we all look sharp in our forest-green uniforms. Thick fur wraps around the hoods of some, rich acorn-brown trim around others. Each of us took the time to make our coat unique. Jane was an amazing help, and never lost hope in us. She was there for every stitch, and we now have beautiful anoraks thanks to her.


While half the group sewed, the other half grabbed their axes and piled into the van for a full day of logging. We needed to cut spruce saplings to build a new lodge next spring. We drove to a grove of young spruces and were soon busy chopping. We took the time to carefully select the right kind of tree, making sure that we were only cutting down the ones that weren’t getting enough sunlight, or trees that were blocking the sunlight of younger ones growing around it. As the day ended and we prepared to leave, we clasped each other’s hands, bowed our heads, and raised our voices in a song of thanks to the forest.

One night as we finished our meal, Lisl announced that we would be taking a trip to the bakery to watch Noah show us the art of crafting loaves of delicious bread. Half of the group went, and the other half stayed behind to finish projects. It was a late night and everyone crowded in to watch Noah. The bakery was warm and cozy and you could smell the dough as it rose and simmered in the oven. Noah stayed up late telling stories as we circled around him. Back at Kroka everyone had piled into the Big Yurt and made a huge nest of sleeping bags. Soon we were all laughing and rolling around on the floor.

When we finally finished our anoraks and logging, we met Misha for a long cross-country ski across marshlands. We spent the day trekking through the marsh and trying not to break through the ice. We spent the day examining tracks, skiing off huge rocks, and laughing at the simplicities of life. Many of us filled our back packs with as much as we could muster to experience what it would soon feel like on the trail. The ski filled up the whole day. We returned to base camp to relax and wash up.




On Saturday, the tenth grade from The Lake Champlain School came to visit. We helped them set up camp and then played games and shared stories with them. They spent the night in Palugo, and we girls piled into the lodge with our semester boys. Once the tenth grade left, we settled back into our regular routines. Now that our group is more acquainted, we have started a nightly long share. One member of the group gets as much time as she or he needs to talk about her/his life up until now. We have learned so much more about each other from these and I eagerly await the rest of the group’s sharing.



On Sunday we skied with Noah to his bakery. We skied on snowmobile trails and got a better idea of how our trip may feel. When we reached Noah’s we had a filling meal of his bread and then helped him make picnic tables. Once we had completed the tables, the boys and girls took turns in the sauna. We relaxed until we couldn’t take the heat anymore, then chopped a hole in the ice and jumped in the pond.





Life has continued on busy as ever and just as wonderful. We have learned an abundance of skills already and we still have much more to learn. Pack out day is approaching and there is still so much to be done. Our relaxed moments seem to be shortening as does the time to our departure. All of us are looking forward to getting on the trail and it seems like the days aren’t rushing by nearly fast enough. The open road awaits us, destination Northwoods, departure one week. “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.” -Robert Frost

Yours Truly,


Iyla MacArthur, Semester Scribe


Below is a poem written by Kendra about her knife.


My own two hands

(With the assistance of

Blacksmiths and micro planes)

Made you rough and smooth

I found your curves in a dream…

(Buried in fungus,

Drowning in doubt)

And in that small, forgettable space

You were conceived

Made of wood and undeniable

LOVE

With my own two hands…

Wrapped in leather and filled with beautiful sorts of things…

…Resting (as if a child) on my hip

Here is life made with my own

Two hands.

NHVSP 2010 Update 2

To our far away readers,

I write to tell you we do more than survive here --  we flourish. Tucked away in the nooks of the mountains, we do not witness life -- we live it.  Untouched by the dust of society’s mistakes, we look at the land with a clear eye.  As we grasp each other’s hands and raise our voices in unison, we bow our heads in thanks to the gifts the earth has given us.

The snow here comes in thick layers, frosting the ground in a creamy blanket.  It falls from the sky in the numbers of a child’s wishes, putting the grass to sleep.  We awoke this morning to a new layer, and were soon put to work.  By 6:15am we all were shoveling roofs, snowshoeing paths, sweeping the solar panels, and packing down trails.  After our early start, we jumped right back into our regular chores.

 

With all the work we do throughout the day, mealtime is no small dish.  Piling around steaming pots and pans, we eagerly hold out our bowls for the long anticipated serving -- thick soup filled with carrots and potatoes, seasoned with rosemary and thyme, and an abundance of creamy kasha with melted cheese and garlic.  We are so lucky to always have a hot meal in our bowls.  We never have to think twice about tomorrow’s meal because we know it will always be there.  Here we take the time to remember this.

Counting down the days till we set out feels like we’ll never have enough time to finish our preparation.  Project after project is presented to us, and very rarely do we find ourselves with a moment to rest.  Everyone is busy finishing their knives and sewing the leather sheaths for them.  We all must wax our ski boots four times to cover them completely to get a thorough waterproofing.  We must also wax our skis a few times so that they get maximum glide in the snow.  Among all of these projects we must find time to write all of our academic assignments.  Each of us has been assigned a book about an expedition and we will all be reading them and presenting them to the group.  Our schedules are filled with hub bustle, and every time we prepare to check a project off the list, we are given another.  As the last of us finished stitching up our mitten shells, we dived into the next sewing project.  Jane Barron has come from Maine to teach us to sew our anoraks.  We started today and soon we were on our way to making the front pocket with a zipper.  For the next four days we will be piecing together the very coat that will travel with us the whole way, sheltering us from wind and snow.  The feeling we will achieve from making these ourselves, with our own hands, will be one of great accomplishment.

Amongst all these projects here at Kroka, we are still spending time to learn from many different teachers on many different subjects.  This week, Dick Boisvert, an archaeologist, came and gave a presentation about his work in New Hampshire.  He spoke of the cultural/temporal periods and how to identity which period an artifact came from. There are four periods.  The Paleo-Indian, the Archaic, the Woodland, and the Historic. He has found remains from each period.  Stone is the most common type of artifact you’ll find because it lasts longer then any other material. He spoke to us for a while and answered all our questions.  He also runs a program for students 16 and older to help him in his line of work, and offered any of us a position.  We were lucky to have him.

We also took a field trip to the home of an old-time Marlow citizen named Charlie Strickland.  He told us all about the history of Marlow, and how much it has changed over the course of his lifetime.  Charlie spoke of the time when gas was 20 cents a gallon, and when the forest fire of 1941 burnt over half of the town of Marlow and heavily damaged surrounding towns.  It was fascinating to view history from the vantage point of someone who had lived through the decades and whose memory served him so well.  No textbook could ever provide the historical details he bestowed on us.

Standing from left to right: Yarrow, Noah, Iyla, Scott, Eliot, Ari, Erica, Paul, Martin, Mistral, Oliver; front: Charlie, Melody and Anne. Missing: Anna and Kendra.

Life here continues on with the swiftness of the wind and its lonesome whistle. Each morning we are greeted with peeking tips of father Sun and his radiating warmth, and every night I look up at the stars, with their flickering drops of dew light, reflecting back at me a dream far bigger than this world. As I look up with hope, I know “every little things gonna be alright.”  Bob Marley

Devotedly Yours,

                   Iyla Therese

Kendra would like to wish Anna a happy birthday.

NHVSP 2010 Update 1

To our dearest friends and family,

I write to you to tell you our journey has begun. With an assured stride, we’ve taken the first steps to embark on our expedition. With six hundred miles of land and water ahead of us, there is much to be done. Over the woodstove are screens upon screens tiled with thinly sliced vegetables. Hands are always busy stitching our mitten shells, sanding the handles of our crafted knives - there’s never time to spare. Over the past days we have busily learned many crafts.



Laurel has taught us the art of making a wooden handled knife. Each of us chose a simple block of cherry burl, and with careful steps we uncovered the knife that awaited us.



Lisl has taught us to stitch a pair of mitten shells that will keep our mittens dry. We took patterns and cut out the fabric, and then step-by-step stitched it together.

Our days are filled with the bustle of preparation. We awake at the crack of dawn, before the sun has reached its fingertips over the tops of the trees, and we start in on our chores. There are animals to be fed, wood to be chopped, water to be hauled up from the stream, and much more. We also have to squeeze in time to practice skiing. We strap in our boots and away we go. We must learn the art of going up and down hills, around sharp corners, all with speed and control. We have much to do before we embark and everyone is staying busy. It seems to be getting colder here all the while. The cold creeps into your bones and sucks at the marrow with a suffering sweet tooth. Only as the day succumbs to night do we pile up the fire and crawl, dizzy-headed, into our sleeping bags, with the hope tomorrow will be just as good.

Yours Truly,
Iyla MacArthur, Semester Scribe