Another 90 under the belt

Its 7:15 AM as I lie in bed this morning, feeling like I've been hit by a bus - not because of sleep deprivation or school work, but because I paddled 90 miles in a canoe the past three days. Some may call me completely crazy, but this weekend I paddled in and one hundred percent enjoyed my second 90 miler. The Adirondack Canoe Classic "90 Miler" is a three day, 90 mile, relatively flat-water canoe race through the Adirondacks, from Old Forge to Saranac Lake. The course itself is a combination of paddling across lakes, rivers and channels, with the addition of several carries on land on dirt roads and through trails in the woods. The race can accommodate up to 275 boats, ranging from one to eight person canoes, guide boats, kayaks - even paddle boarders! It is the ultimate test of one's physical and mental abilities.

Many friends asked me before I left on Friday, "Sorry, you're doing what?" or after explaining to them how the race worked, they remarked, "...and you think thats fun?" After answering many of these questions and comments, I realized that some people get it - why I put myself through this - and well others, just don't. To those that don't, I challenge you to sign up one year and just do it. Even if once is enough for you, I promise you won't regret it. Even after paddling down the same course for a second time, the surrounding environment continued to amaze me.

A few of the points that Terrie makes in Chapter 1 of Contested Terrain took me back to the race this weekend. Terrie refers to the Adirondacks as a "romantic landscape" (12). For a majority of the race, steering and keeping in time was all I really paid attention to. However, every so often I would take myself out of the race mentality, look up and around me, and realize what I had been missing. The only word I can think of to describe what I saw was majestic. What even struck me more was when I thought about how many of these areas we passed have never been touched or interrupted by human activity. Traveling through small channels and down winding rivers through the woods, you feel as though you're in a place separate from the world around you. Earlier in the chapter, Terrie also talks about the land that hasn't been logged yet as being "virgin" land (7). I believe McKibben also talks about the land as being virgin. Now comes the question of whether we keep this land as it is to preserve its virgin nature, or we let humans explore it and take advantage of their natural surroundings - something I would personally be in favor of.

The 90 Miler: Uniquely Adirondack

When I returned to Old Forge on Friday to begin the Adirondack Canoe Classic ("The 90-Miler"), I thought I knew what I was getting myself into. After racing in a C-2 last year, I was expecting the craze of canoes, kayaks, stand up paddle boards, and racers young and old to feel familiar. In a sense it was--I remembered lots of the rivers and lakes, and I distinctly remember the look of the last few turns before the finish line. What I did not remember was the atmosphere that sets this race apart from any other competitive environment I've been in. Although there were racers from all over the country, there was a solid sense of community between all of the paddlers that was strongly based in the Adirondack Park. Throughout all of the paddlers' meetings and race announcements, the host of the event constantly encouraged attendees to support local Adirondack businesses, to respect the DEC's requests to remove weeds between different waterways, and to maintain a strong connection to the park we were all racing in. The sponsors of the race ranged from PEPSI to the Adirondack Park Invasive Plant Program. The combination of competitive national racers with local Adirondack paddling families mimicked the large corporate sponsors with the local businesses, and reflected the strong community found within such a massive park.

There was even a class for guide boats, a kind of boat that is endemic to the Adirondacks. These boats are neither the fastest nor the lightest, and are clearly a pain to run with on the many carries, but they will be forever a part of the 90-miler as an Adirondack tradition. The race has become a significant event for competitive paddlers all over the country, but it will be forever grounded in Adirondack traditions, leaving room for locals and new racers like Hamilton students to compete and feel welcome. I was more aware of this dynamic this year than the last, and it made me grateful for the opportunities Hamilton students have by living so close to the park.

90 Miler

When I told my parents that I had decided to compete for the second time in the Adirondack Canoe Classic, a 90 (or 83, depending on who you ask) mile canoe race from Old Forge to Saranac Lake, they asked me if marathon canoe racing was something I that I actually enjoyed. I didn't have a good answer. I can remember how tired, sore, and blistered I had been after my first 90 miler but I did not hesitate when I signed up to do it again.

 The race starts in the southwest corner of the park in the town of Old Forge, NY. The first day of the race follows the Fulton Chain lakes, which are referred to as First through Eighth lakes--McKibben was right about the lack of creativity in place names in the Adirondacks. After a couple carries (be careful not to call them portages), the course becomes a bit more technical as you enter a narrow, marshy river called Brown's Tract. Thick vegetation and beaver dams are sure to cause problems for inexperienced paddlers who stray from the center. Brown's Tract opens up into Raquette lake, which is certainly a welcome change of scenery. After crossing the Raquette and paddling the Marion river (upstream!), the only obstacle separating you from the finish is 3 more lakes--a convenient number, as 3 is the highest number you can count to by the end of the first day, as team advisor and 90 miler veteran Andrew Jillings says.

If the first day of the race is a physical challenge, the second is more of a mental one. You begin the day by paddling the entire length of Long Lake, which is unique only for being long. After 2 hours with potentially difficult cross winds and little change in scenery, you come to a support boat where race organizers throw Snickers bars at your boat--you'll have to ask my captain, Ally, why we chose to forgo this pit stop. Next you begin paddling down the Raquette River and keep paddling for 3-6 hours, depending on if you're in an 8-person war canoe or a going solo on a paddle board.

The last day of the race is certainly the highlight of the weekend. By the third day, I was nearly too sore to move my arms, but once I got into rhythm of paddling and became absorbed in the scenery, I managed to keep paddling without thinking of the discomfort. After crossing Middle Saranac Lake, you paddle through a network of rivers with  magnificent rocky cliffs lining the banks as well what I believe to be the best view in the Adirondacks. You are greeted at the finish in Saranac Lake by enthusiastic crowds as well as quite possibly the worst view in the Adirondacks--two far too tall concrete buildings loom over the town, which is reminiscent of the blend of wilderness and settlement throughout the park.
As I paddled at 72 reps/minute with my $300 carbon fiber paddle and $2000 Kevlar C4, I wondered if this was really the best way to experience the Adirondacks. We certainly experienced the "forever wild" parts of the park that seemed only accessible by canoe and also saw the great camps along Fourth Lake. However, we also seemed to reinforce materialism with all our stuff, which McKibben and the romantic idealists of the 19th century sought to minimize by spending time in the wilderness. One particular carry stands out in my mind. I was walking with the bow of the canoe on top of my head, barely able to see 2 feet in front of myself, surely missing out on a fantastic view. I ripped off an "expresso" [sic] Gu that I had taped to my boat, choked it down, and threw the trash on the ground. I knew that it would be picked up later, but I couldn't help but feel as if I had disrespected the wilderness. I am fortunate to have been able to see so much of the region, but I hope to experience more of it outside of the race. I'll be back next year, without a doubt.    

Cross-Course Diversity

               

               This past week, in my biology 101 "Genetics and Evolution" class, we had our first lab. This class examines biology on the evolutionary scale over time, and urges us to look at evolutionary development through the lens of genetic makeup's across the spectrum of diversity. Our lab took place in the Root Glen in the form of a walk, a long, 3 hour walk through the woods. This was my first time in any of the Glen's on our campus (other than professor Rayne's tour of the old campus dumping site for his Geo class last year.) Moreover, this was my first experience with actually getting to see and touch the true diversity of plant and animal life in our region. The goal of the lab was to get us thinking about this diversity, not just at the basic level of how much and how many, but in the sense that everything we were seeing was all part of a bigger picture; a historical tree of genetic evolution. Walking alongside professor Cramer and professor Townshend was like getting a private, guided nature tour. They explained to us the origin, genus and species, interesting facts, and all other tidbits about almost every single example we came across, whether it was a birch tree or a salamander, goldenrod or even a hornet's nest at ground level. (Something new to all of us). Needless to say, I was astonished about how much detail they knew and were able to convey onto us in such a short period of time.

                The goal of the lab was most certainly accomplished. This walk opened my eyes to just how incredibly diverse this region is. It almost seems unreal that we are fortunate enough to attend a school that is so close to the midst of such an amazing resource as the Adirondack Park. I like to think of that walk through the Glen as a preview of some what's to come in this course with our eventual journey into the park itself, where the real "wild" diversity of things will be all around us. Very much looking forward!

Bald-Faced Hornets nest at Knee Height

Somewhere Between 90 and 2,880 Miles We All Meet

I woke up as the Outing Club van pulled into the parking lot of the Old Forge visitor center, the mist was just beginning to clear off of the lake and I was terrified. Hamilton's Marathon Canoe Racing Team was one of the first groups to arrive. As we took turns registering and jumping around to stay warm I saw more and more people unload boats and start the process of duct taping food for the day within the reach of their canoe seat. The more I watched the other racers, the better I began to understand exactly how big the 90 Mile Canoe Classic Race is to so many people from the Adirondacks, generations of families paddling to win or couples who know the Adirondacks as their home and paddle every year to virtually pay testament to its beauty. I felt separated from many of the other racers, I don't really have any specific connection to the Adirondacks nor have I been paddling since birth, I guessed that this feeling would stay with me even after the race was over since it is really only a weekend.

The 90 Mile Canoe Classic Race, has been held in the Adirondacks ever year for 32 years, it is a massive events with hundreds of racers and many different boat categories. It helps the local businesses to flourish and lets the community of the Adirondacks know that there are paddlers out there who love this place enough to spend three days totaling about 20 hours of paddling pouring their blood, sweat, and tears into it, to put it lightly. Running from Old Forge to Saranac Lake the race is split up into three days, with designated starting and stopping points. It is impossible to truly describe the feeling of paddling in that situation to anyone who wasn't there, but I will say that it felt like a tsunami out on the water sometimes and if you weren't running on the canoe carries you were going to get pushed out of the way.

I won't go into detail about the pain and suffering that went into my boats approximately 17 hours of total paddling, but I will say that I could not have been more wrong about feeling like an outsider by the end. During the last half mile of the last day you come around this bend in the lake, and at that point you can see the buoys marking the finish line, standing on shore are literally hundreds of people cheering and when you pull up and step out of your boat it doesn't matter that you weren't born and raised in the Adirondacks and that you haven't lived and breathed water your entire life, you are a paddler and you finished the 90 Mile Canoe Classic. During the award ceremony the most beautiful part was when they called up the oldest age group of people who paddled the 90 this year, it was two couples who were both in their late seventies, and they were just beaming. Were they the fastest in their categories? No. Were they the best paddlers? No. But they clearly had this passion for the sport and the race and the wilderness that many people may never find in their entire lives. As I watched them stand up there all I had to say to myself was, "I sure know that I am going to be coming back up here next year."

A Divided Life: Why I agree with McKibben's love of the 'Dacks yet disagree with his disdain for New England

I've spent my entire life growing up in the "small New England town" that McKibben refers to in his argument for the wildness of the Adirondacks, but I've also spent every summer in the depths of the wilderness of the Western Adirondacks. I love my town. The stark white steeple of the Protestant Church looms over the Town Hall where our two annual town meetings are held, right next to the town green with its white bandstand that hosts shows every Friday night throughout the summer. By the time I was seven I was allowed to bike across town with my friends to get ice cream without our parents. My school district covered seven towns and there were still only 200 kids in each grade. It was, and still is, a quintessential New England town. We're self-governed, self-sufficient, and frankly rather wary of outsiders - you're not "local" until you've been around for a few generations. But every summer for the last 52 years, my family members have packed up the kids and the dogs and taken off across Vermont for our favorite place in the world, a place only reachable by hours of unmarked pavement and 20 miles of the barely-maintained dirt Big Moose Road. New Hampshire is my home, and always will be. It has shaped who I am and carries a very special place in my heart, but the Stillwater Reservoir is where my heart always longs to be. That is a place where I can always fine pure peace. No matter what is waiting for me on the civilized end of that long dirt road, the Adirondacks are the one place in the world where I can feel truly peaceful, truly rested, and truly connected to the natural world - something I need to remind myself of as often as possible. That is the true value of the Adirondack Wilderness in my opinion. At a time in this country when young adults are ever more quickly turning away from religion, myself included, a deep understanding of wilderness and wildness can give anyone a spiritual moment, no matter what they believe in, and I really do think that that natural connection of spirit is something that everyone should experience, and in the Adirondacks anyone could.

Class Divide in Early Adirondack History

The recent reading from Philip G. Terrie's "Contested Terrain," describing the early days of European colonizers in the Adirondacks, explores the idea of romanticism and the part this played in Emmon's "promotion" of the area. This stuck out to me for several reasons, namely because people hold a very similar attitude to the Adirondacks and wilderness today. Terrie writes, “[people] came just to fish, hunt, and restore body and soul amid the scenic and recreational glories of the Adirondacks,” (12).

While Terrie initially describes the draw that the Adirondacks had, it became very clear to me that there was a distinct socio-economic class distinction as only the wealthy had the opportunity for retreat. I found this troubling for many reasons, namely because the wilderness is a place for everyone to enjoy and shouldn’t be restricted to just one class. Also, I was so surprised by this fact about the Adirondacks’ early history because it seems that this class divide has greatly dissolved over time to include a wide range of people and financial statuses today. While it is very common to see a huge lake house with speedboats and jet skis, it is just as easy to see small business owners running local shops, who surely face financial struggles from time to time in a country where Walmart is king.

So, while the romantic quality of the Adirondacks has persevered over time, I think that now, part of that charm is from the people who have built their lives in the Park and call it home, while respecting the land for what it has given them. I will be interested to see at what point in time in its history did the Adirondacks became a more inclusive place of retreat and at what time did more lower and middle class people began to settle there.