Story of Place with Bethany, Erik and Tessa

Posted on September 23, 2015 by Tessa Broholm

When we returned to our spot this week as our second visit, we all felt more comfortable. Part of that we attributed to having been here before and knowing what to expect. We were all surprised by how little seemed to have changed in the week between our visits. The biggest difference we observed was the weather and how it seemed a bit less friendly on an overcast day than when the sun is out in full force. The water level ran at about the same height, having not had any rain in the past week. We did encounter the same man up by the road. He was standing in the same place and was, oddly enough, changing his shirt, the same action we witnessed last week. We saw him as we drove by but by the time we had parked and come back, he was gone. If he is there during our next visit, we hope to have a conversation with him and find out what he does at the corner. There is lots of litter here. It is probably a combination of what has been washed up on shore from deposition further up the river and litter from people who may come here to hang out. The campsite of a homeless person was still there, although with a few modifications. We noticed that the target had been removed so we know that someone is living there now and it’s not from a long time ago. Underneath the bridge that we cross over to reach our spot.

A few shots of the two rivers meeting. The island is visible to the right, as well as the remains of the dam, where the white water flows.

The whiter rocks are the same rocks that are submerged in the water, so this area would be underwater if the river was higher.

Can we own nature?

Posted on September 22, 2015 by Tessa Broholm

(my apologies for the low quality pic)

Yesterday, I bought a fish. I’ve had many pets before but this was the first animal that I myself purchased. It was a very weird experience. The idea that I have the entitlement to walk into a store, randomly pick one of the fish who was randomly circling the tank with all of the other fish, and then to take him home with me gave me a weird sense of power, for a lack of better words. I was very aware of my position at the top of the food chain for this little guy, who had no say in why he was chosen or brought home with me. What gives me the right to own him, to call him mine and have other humans look at him as my “property?”

Even with all of these questions and misgivings, I am still more than excited to have a fish. I spent probably too much time last night just sitting and watching him explore his bowl.

Posted on September 20, 2015 by Tessa Broholm

On Thursday, my biology class went back to the Sullivan Park wetland and had the opportunity to get down and dirty in it. Let me say that it is a very different experience to be looking in at the wetland from behind the fence than when you are right in the thick of things. My first task was to get into the wetland. This was much more difficult than I anticipated – the cattails and undergrowth were deceivingly thick. I found that in order to move at all we had to crush some of the plants. That action in itself felt very wrong. Here is a small preserved piece of wetland and what was my right to be invading its space and leaving a trail of broken stems behind me?

The wetland quickly had its revenge on me as I tried to make my way out of the heavily planted area. I headed towards the fountain and suddenly found myself up to my waist in water. I was wearing waist high waders but it was definitely a surprise to find out that I needed every last inch of them to keep me dry. It was an odd experience to feel the water surrounding me, feeling the pressure of the water for the entire wetland press against my legs but to not be getting wet. I could feel the water swilling around me as it took me in its stride as just another obstacle to move around in its journey through the wetland.

There was a strange sense of calm when I finally made my way into the center of the wetland. Even though my classmates were less than 10 feet away from me and I could hear them very distinctly, the plants were so thick that I could not see them at all. It was a very real experience to feel so alone while knowing that others were so close. Had it not been for them, I could have been miles away from any human or any part of civilization for all I knew. I was lucky to be allowed to go to a place where so many others get so close to but can’t quite experience themselves.

Letting Go

Posted on September 16, 2015 by Tessa Broholm

On page 179 of “Down the River” Ed Abbey says “Actually our ignorance and carelessness are more deliberate than accidental; we are entering Glen Canyon without having learned much about it beforehand because we wish to see it…not know what to expect, making anew the discoveries of others.” I was very surprised by this passage because it is such opposite thinking to they way that most people tackle Nature in the present. Even for a brief hike or an overnight camping trip, most people come prepared with every single piece of equipment imaginable, everything to cover any situation or misfortune. Part of this preparation is a fear of the unknown and by rolling in with first aid kits and fire starters, we help ease our minds with the thought that we still have some control over what happens to us out in nature. It is a false sense of security that we give ourselves, for if Mother Nature herself has a plan to do us all in, that is her unbreakable will that we cannot maneuver through unless she lets us.

I think to all of the real explorers, the ones who set out without a GPS or extra batteries, who encountered Nature in the realest sense of herself, for those are the people who were their most natural state as well. We must learn to let go of our sense and need to control in order to really experience what is out there.

Life Begins with Water

Posted on September 13, 2015 by Tessa Broholm

When I was looking at the weather for this weekend and I saw that it was not going to be perfect sunny skies and mild weather, I was a bit disappointed. I already do not enjoy kayaking as an activity and adding on bad weather to that heap made the less than excited for the trip. The day came with a tease of sunshine until the very moment when we unloaded the boats and got onto the water. The unpromising gray skies followed us throughout the day. After lunch, when we began paddling again, it began to rain. The idea of rain was so unpleasant but once I actually began to feel the liquid gathering on my skin, my perspective changed.

A few nights previously there had been a torrential downpour that I was caught in as I made my way across campus. It was late and there weren’t many people around. At first I was dismayed to find myself completely soaked but then I realized that there was nothing I could about that. There’s a quote that says, “Life isn’t about hiding from the storm, it’s about learning to dance in the rain.” In a post late-night library daze, I grabbed my friend and together we ran through the streets, jumping in puddles and letting ourselves be surrounded by the water. In that moment, I felt so alive. Bringing this back to our paddle, I felt a similar sort of electricity as my skin became damp with the precipitation. I think the water has some energy and having it not only flowing swiftly beneath me but also fall from the sky above me, I was surrounded by it. I felt rejuvenated, even though I was physically and mentally exhausted from the week. The water made me feel alive.

Viewing vs Doing in Yellowstone

Posted on September 10, 2015 by Tessa Broholm

Last winter my family went on vacation to Yellowstone National Park. I had visited Yellowstone previously in the summer and let me say, it is even more wild and beautiful in the winter. The total remoteness and ruggedness of the terrain and the general inaccessibility to most of the park makes the experience feel so much more real. The reason that this was my family winter vacation was because 30 years previously, my parents had gone winter camping in the park. Stories of their experience then versus what I experienced last year were so incredibly different.

My parent’s experience was very much in the back country. They were snowshoeing and cross country skiing with all of their gear. There were snow holes where supplies had been buried earlier in the season that they had to find and dig out. They were lead by a guide in a small group with other people but they were still very much out in the wild, doing everything themselves. My trip was much more domesticated. We stayed in a lodge with running water and a restaurant. When we went on excursions lead by guides we were either on snowmobiles or snow tanks. These trips were so much more about getting to the destination and viewing the natural wonder than exploring on our own and stumbling upon the beauty of the park. I still loved my experience in Yellowstone but hearing about the possibilities of other opportunities of how to see the park left me feeling unsatisfied. It is something that I aspire to do some day in the future.

The Nature of Choice

Posted on September 7, 2015 by Tessa Broholm

My family is fortunate enough to have places in both Vermont and Maine that we have been able to visit every year since I was very young. Both locations are very remote. Picture dirt roads, grocery stores that are at least a half hour away by car and no drinkable running water. These are the places of my childhood vacations. By nature of being very remote, most of our family activities revolved around being outside. Hanging out on the lakefront while reading a book or playing a board game was something that I was completely satisfied doing for the entirety of the vacation. The rest of my family was a bit more restless and looked to the mountains where miles of trails lead to patches of wild blueberries and breath taking views. These trips were always day long endeavors, and I absolutely hated them. It wasn’t that I was a lazy kid, I played sports year round and was very active. Looking back on it now I think it was the idea that I had no choice in the matter, that my parents required me to come on these adventures because I was too young to be left alone. My sister and I became very good at tag teaming the complaining and whining when the idea was proposed to go on these excursions.

You can imagine my parents shock the first time that I asked my parents to go on a hike. They were in a state of disbelief, saying that I didn’t like hiking and asking the question “are you sure?” So what had changed? For several years my family had not been able to visit these places because of my parents. My dad had his knee replaced and my mom found that her calf muscles were deteriorating from a rare condition, which made walking, let alone hiking, very difficult. So one change was that I had had time to grow and mature. I realized that I missed the sweat of the climb and the burn in your calves that becomes so rewarding once you reach the final peak. More importantly though, was that I had gained my independence. My parents were not able to accompany me on any hikes and I was finally old enough to drive myself to a mountain. The ability to choose to be outside, to have some control over where I wanted to go, at what time and at what pace I wanted to go was so freeing. It all came from the inner desire to be outside, the ability to then be able to follow through and that this was all done by choice. It was my decision and that has made all the difference in my experiences since then.

Cultures of Nature Fall 2015

Author Archives: Tessa Broholm