Relating to McKibben

This past weekend (and every summer for the past twenty years of my life) I visited my Grandmother’s house on the St. Lawrence River. While the St. Lawrence River is technically outside of the boundaries of the Adirondack region, I still feel that many of my experiences at the river are similar to McKibben’s experiences in the Adirondacks, as we both have very special relationships with these places. 

In the opening pages of his book Wandering Home, McKibben relays his experience seeing the view from the top of a peak on the first evening of his hike, “All at once it struck me, struck me hard, that this was one of those few scenes I would replay in my head when I someday lay dying” (14). While I have never seen a seven layer rainbow, I feel like I completely understand McKibben’s statement. Whether it is waking up to a perfectly calm morning, feeling the wind whip my hair on a boat ride, or having a massive thunderstorm quickly clear to reveal a stunning sunset – the sights I have seen at the river truly seem like they are from another world. In fact, whenever anyone arrives at the river, my Nana greets them with her signature line, “Welcome to paradise!” While to some, paradise may be found in the exotic lands of Hawaii and other tropical islands, to me, paradise is the simplicity and beauty found at the river. 

Sunset view from the boathouse

I appreciate the simplicity of life at the river, and it really is a “kingdom of my memories” (148). While McKibben remembers the place where he and his daughter encountered a bear, I remember the rock where my sister slipped on my birthday and sliced her knee open – she still has a large scar today. I remember rowing to a nearby island with my cousin when I was ten years old and getting stuck in a strong wind – my uncle had to come rescue us and towed us back behind his boat. And I remember almost getting my hair seared off after a grease fire lit on our old fashioned wood fired griddle during a cookout breakfast. Even the little things that have happened to me at the river mean so much just because of what a special place it is. 

However, similarly to McKibben, the changes that happen to our “paradise” can be difficult to grasp. A few years ago, a family bought the island across from us and built a new road and bridge to connect his island to land, as well as a large boathouse right on the point of the island, right in the middle of our view of the sunset. Like McKibben, we questioned, “the hyperindividualism that thinks nothing of ruining everyone else’s view” (21). Luckily for us, the boathouse did not turn out to be as bad as we had imagined, and while the bridge is quite large, we have adapted to its presence. However, I can’t help but imagine another scenario that could have turned out like McKibben’s with their new constructions ruining the view for everyone. 

The Bridge that didn't turn out to be so bad after all

I love the river for its beauty, history, and its community, the same way that McKibben values the Adirondacks for these same reasons. I hope that it never changes because I want my children and grandchildren to be able to experience the same joy and love that the river has brought and will continue to bring me over the years.

This is still the original boathouse from 1912

All Photos are my own

Works Cited:
McKibben, Bill. Wandering Home: A Long Walk Across America’s Most Hopeful Landscape. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2005. Print.