Raquette River Prep: Barton Cove
9/2 8:55 am
“Are you with OLP? You’ve got way too much stuff!” said the guy shaking his knowing head as I hobbled toward the flight of stairs, bent under my stuffed 45 liter daypack, drybag of food, Crazy Creek chair, sleeping bag, Thermarest pad, second pair of shoes tied together by the laces, and wearing my newer water shoes, wicking shirt and quick-dry pants with zip-off legs—a hybrid two-tone version, having lost shorts of one pair and legs of another. He walked with casual purpose and an air of someone who works at GCC, and told me that he was in OLP in the early 80s. That may have been the last time he hiked. I drop my gear at the bottom of the stairs, trusting that it will all be there when I return from parking my car.
Up the stairs and inside, I haul my load sheepishly into the classroom in which gear and OLPers already gather. Most have camping experience so their gear is packed correctly and efficiently. Beth shows a slide about Leave No Trace (LNT) and its contentious history. LNT won’t let me throw my apple cores into the woods for animals because apples are likely not natural to that environment, and LNT will make me pack up and bring home my poop TP. . . oh, yeah, pooping in the woods lurks in the learning. Just last year I peed in the woods for the first time. More general information about the trip, careful to remind us that the experienced campers should care about the less experienced and help out as they can. She asks if there are any questions or comments. My hand shoots up as I state emphatically, “I need help.” I’m working on admitting my need rather than trying to pretend otherwise. Embrace your weakness and the power to hurt you weakens. Beth thanks me for asking for help and encourages a class clap for my bravery. But she hasn’t seen my gear yet and when she does, I see the gasp in her eyes.
Down to the boat storage, we drop gear, split into two groups, and get demos on
hitching the boat trailer to the vehicles. At least one trailer has a guide wheel to help maneuver it into position and it can then be cranked out of the way, reminiscent of airplane wheels after they serve their purpose. Hook up the chains and electrical lights, and we’re good to move on to loading the boats. Ian, Beth, Erin, Aaron, Me [in tan], Joe, Katey, Laura, Jake
It’s a fleet that owes nothing to the program but will hopefully last another year until fundraising can muster new funds. I think about suggesting that a well financed OLP alum might be a benefactor but the concept is quite possibly an oxymoron in adventure employment. Perhaps a recipient of the community outreach and service provided by OLP? We shift boats from ground to trailer and learn to tie a Trucker’s Knot backed up by a few half hitches to secure the boats. Gear is stowed in the trailer bottom, people are stowed in van and truck, a couple of students drive the instructor’s vehicles and we make our way on the 20 minute ride to Barton Cove. The e-coli scare having been lifted, we will swim and learn to paddle at the cove.
Litany of Injuries
We are sent on the Barton Cove Nature Trail to discover the geological history. While traversing the trail, I run up a small hill and am suddenly stung on the wrist by a hornet. Damn, that hurts. I’m the only one of our threesome stung but we discover that the group ahead has been stung as well. In all, eight or so of us are stung. Kristie brought Benadryl and her hand stays swollen through the end of the trip.
When we return to the “base camp” we scope out the sample tents and tarps set up by Austin and Beth and then break into pairs to try our hand at setting up tarps. Conway and I do a pretty nice job with our bright orange tarp and it is deemed sleepable.
Austin and Beth continue with basics of camping, including proper stove use. The Whisper Light stove resembles no stove I’ve ever used. It sits in one of my hands while I lock the three legs and set it upright on top of the silver heat shield, connect the pump to the canister, that gizmo to the stove, prime and open the gas lines, flick a bic with Austin advising, and presto, an orange yellow flame grows slowly. Hot blue flame is the goal and, under the watchful eye of my cook partner George, I place a shield fortress to hold the heat and start boiling water for our potluck dinner. My penne takes twice as long to cook as stated. Austin says the orange flame indicates that the works are gummed up and it’s not hot enough and he works on it. George starts to steam the fresh veggies he cut up Julienne style. The pot luck from eight to ten cook teams fills twenty-two people with much to spare. Beth baked a chocolate chip cookie cake but Anna missed out while at the loo. What a stinking reason to miss dessert! And, in the course of meal prep, I manage to close-line myself at least four times, on the same cord, across the bridge of my nose. It’s still tender!
Tonight Austin announced the Raquette River trip teams. I’m in Team A leaving Wednesday, a day before Team B. Coquette and Erin asked me to join their cook group and to share their tarp. I appreciate their efforts to help out and care for each other as we were charged. We end up sleeping in the Taj Mahal tent. At 1:30 a.m. I gave in to my bladder and make my way to the outhouse. When I get back, I tell Coquette that I need aroma therapy because the smell of the outhouse permeates my nose hairs.
9/3
Erin woke at 6:30 and she and Coquette rose and packed with the efficiency of campers. I pieced together my packing and hauled up my gear, starting toward the table of twenty. I drop my gear suddenly to run after my sleeping bag that slid out of the straps that I forgot to cinch and is picking up speed, rolling down the hill toward the water. I run after it, pass it at an angle to catch it on the roll. Accomplished, applause cuts through the trees and, looking up, I see my standing ovation from the table. I bow in gracious embarrassment.
After a breakfast of apple cinnamon oatmeal which I would not normally eat but tastes delicious this morning, we gather for a few get-us-movin’ tag games. My ring finger and Mark’s chest meet hard and my finger jams painfully. It begins to swell and Beth suggests that, based on current research, I keep moving it. But the physical toll sends me over the edge with worry about how I will possibly paddle a canoe today. Moving it works and I am able to paddle and participate in the simulated T-rescues of overturned boats. . .and feel like I held my own after I managed the mouthful of water I sucked in. Also passed the five minute how-long-can-you-tread-water test.
This entire OLP adventure is meant to twist me up, shake out the stuff that holds me back and embrace what frees and moves me. My lack of experience means I am constantly disorganized, rooting in the myriad of zip and velcro pockets, compartments, and flaps for anything I need, thus, am usually last to everything. My tears and frustration will, at some point, give way to a sense of organization and relative competence. . .I'm sure. May my whining be shared with at least a hint of humor and may I value soon my life experience within this group.
IAFPIL
Austin Paulson and Beth Sayers are the full time Outdoor Leadership Program (OLP) faculty at Greenfield Community College.
Evan Perkins is a wilderness guide extraordinaire for OLP.
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