Author Archives: Alexa Gatti

Site 5: Simon Silk Mill – Log Report 1

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By Alexa Gatti and Nicole Maksymiw

Today, we explored the Simon Silk Mill site from multiple perspectives. We began in the parking lot at the end of the Karl Stirner Arts Trail and found a run-down pathway leading toward the creek. We sat on an exposed bed of rocks deposited on the edge of the creek. It was clear that this area is submerged in water at times of greater water flow. We wondered how flooding issues may have impacted the location and the mill. Did the force of water cause operational hazards or contribute to the eventual closing of the mill? The rocks around us were damp, so it seems that the force and amount of water in the creek varies regularly and affects the rocks and other features of this area. The rocks in this area were smooth and rounded, mostly of a larger size. This part of the creek was well shaded during the mid-afternoon. The creek appears quite clear and shallow, since the sun shines through the water to the pebbly bottom. Moving at a steady pace, the water movement around the shallow rocks creates many riffles in the creek. The sounds of this area are a mixture of water rushing past these riffles and traffic rushing past in the road.

Simon Silk Mill

Simon Silk Mill

Our vantage point as we journaled

Our vantage point as we journaled

To our left was a bridge that connected the arts trail side of the road to the silk mill side. Behind us, there was a built stone wall along the arts trail. The brick silk mill was across from us. The windows closed with green-painted wood, looking as if it were still in fairly good condition. on the left side of the mill’s face there is a path of plants sprawling upwards. We wondered how this area may be impacted by invasive species. To the right, the mill looked more decrepit. The glass of the windows were shattered. One large smoke stack stood at the right-hand side of the building. What was emitted from this stack? Water vapor or pollutants? This made us wonder what processes and resources are required to produce silk. Is water a major component of production and, if so, how was the creek impacted by this? We imagined workers coming out to the creek for lunch and commuting to the mill. Who were the workers and what were conditions like in the mill? A little ways down the creek we saw a mysterious structure protruding from the stone wall. We contemplated whether we’d be able to wade to that spot, but opted to hold off. (Nicole was wearing a dress and Alexa had Spanish class in an hour.) We did approach the mysterious contraption from above before returning to the car. We must investigate what it could be but it seems that it would have connected to the mill. Large rusted cables were strung from a thick metal beam. Attached to the cables was a long rusted metal pillar lying horizontally in the water. What purpose did this feature serve? We have not yet investigated the history of the mill so we are eager to piece together a clearer picture of the past.

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The Mysterious Contraption

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Reflection of the Bridge

 

After wandering in this spot down by the creek, we decided to explore the surrounding area more. We found a “Catch and Release Area” across the road, so there must be a fair amount of recreational fishing just up the creek. A sign on the side of the old silk mill recognized it as Silk: A Creative Community. Silk is an initiative “dedicated to the development and advancement of the creative and cultural industries.” There is also evidence of ongoing construction within the mill. This is a project we will explore further in research.

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While walking alongside the mill, we noticed a contrast in design and building materials between the creek side and the far side of the building. The creek side has newer brick patterns, a modern concrete frame of the windows, smoother window boards, and a newer chimney than the circular metal ones on the other section of the building. We look forward to exploring the timeline of development in this location.

DelaWHERE? – Rivers & My Sense of Place

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Andy held A Sand County Almanac to read a passage from “Flambeau.” He read as his kayak continued to drift downstream. In that moment, I realized how unique this experience was. At the same time, I realized our insignificance in comparison to the water that flowed beneath us. The river continued on, despite our conversations, while we sit in class at Lafayette and even as we sit right on its surface. The river has been flowing and will continue flowing.

The Delaware is the longest free-flowing river along the east coast of the United States. I am amazed by this fact. Our professors joked, “Let’s go to Cape May!” We could row to Cape May? This is a place where I spent so many summers as a child (Book your Lobster House reservation now!). I think of the 3-plus hour drive it takes to get to this shore point from my home in Whippany, NJ. I am amazed by the vastness of rivers and all to which water connects us. Prior to this trip, I thought nothing of the Delaware River and the significance of time, space, and culture that courses through its water. I felt this connection – the “magic” – that Eiseley so powerfully describes. And what of the other rivers that I have yet to explore? I have rafted along the Colorado River, I was amazed by the canyons that surrounded me and somehow I felt the Delaware was less significant. While driving through Utah, along the Colorado River, this is the song that we played:

I thought of the great expanse of our country – the rivers and roads that seem to create a great distance. Our trip in the Delaware put rivers into perspective as a connecting force across time and space. Rivers are a way of bringing people, goods, and cultures together. This is a sentiment that has been lost with the ubiquity of railways and roads.

Our kayaking experience was enlightening. I now think of each stone that was deposited on the riverbank, shaped and eroded throughout its journey. I think of the monstrous rocks jutting from below the surface – Dave’s words: “BILLIONS of years!” echo in my mind. James Hutton’s discovery of Deep Time is tangible here. I think of the deer carcass that had deposited in the shallow waters along the river’s edge. I am humbled by the time that has past to bring the river to this point – all of the systems, lifecycles, evolution, erosion, deposition, journeys that have been a part of this river’s history. I am humbled by the fact that I can experience a brief glint of that mighty river’s story. I am just floating along the surface, being carried as the river pleases. I am a visitor here – one apparition along the river’s path. Will it remember me? What significance can I pose when confronted by such a perpetual force? For now, I will float on.

Living Nude…Like Weasels

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I was surprised by this week’s GORP, presented by Shawn. I realized I had been to the beach that Shawn discussed – Black’s Beach, a nude beach in San Diego. In class, we discussed how nude beaches are often secluded. They offer a zone of truer freedom. Perhaps they are maintained or treated differently by beach-goers in terms of littering? Ginny proposed that the beaches might even be an example of the necessity of nature that Walden discusses. The class also discussed the different ways that beaches (and swim suits) are used – from tanning to swimming.

I have since reflected on my own experience at nude beaches and what they demonstrate in terms of human relationship with nature. This past summer, I went to a nude beach on Sauvie Island outside of Portland, Oregon. The idea of nude beaches that is most compelling to me was stated well by Professor Smith. He mentioned that people think of presenting themselves in a certain way in nature – wearing certain clothes (often expensive gear) that are “necessary” for a certain activity.

I thought about how the reading “Living Like Weasels” applied to this discussion. Annie Dillard states, “I would like to learn, or remember, how to live…I might learn something of mindlessness, something of the purity of living in the physical senses and the dignity of living without bias or motive. The weasel lives in necessity and we live in choice” (287).

Perhaps it is at nude beaches that we see and experience such a powerful form of mindlessness and living in necessity. We shed our clothes, the way we design ourselves, and present ourselves to the world. We enter a place free of the typical social constraints and enter a place where it is okay to be naked in front of strangers and friends. We expose ourselves fully to the world and allow all of our skin to feel the sand and the water. Perhaps it is in a moment like this that we are remembering how to live – embracing the space around us and ourselves. We abandon a world of constraints and judgment.

My nude beach experiences are so disconnected from other aspects of my life due to the mindlessness the space produces. This is why realizing someone else I know had experienced that space felt so strange to me.

Venturing Without Seeing

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I am always on the go. As soon as I complete a task or adventure, I look for the next. I dread sitting still, remaining in one place, moving too slowly, and moving without purpose. I always have a goal in mind and this is why I struggle to see. Annie Dillard’s “Seeing” and John Stilgoe’s “Outside Lies Magic” eloquently explain the phenomenon of truly seeing and experiencing nature. Dillard discusses the struggle “to gag the commentator” (34). I now strive “to hush the noise of useless interior babble that keeps me from seeing just as surely as a newspaper daggled before my eyes” (34). I hadn’t before thought of experiencing nature in this way. Without internal commentary – just seeing what is before me. I suppose a meaningful experience in nature doesn’t always have to be associated with profound thoughts and technical commentary. Sometimes, I need to simply see.

I  know I am missing out as I move so quickly. My experiences in the outdoors all involve some goal, whether it is summiting a mountain, reaching a certain distance, cardiovascular exercise, climbing a rock face, paddling to a location in the lake. I hope to apply the advice of Stigloe. He states, “Go outside, move deliberately, then relax, slow down, look around. Do not jog. Do not run. Forget about blood pressure and arthritis, cardiovascular rejuvenation and weight reduction. Instead pay attention to everything…Walk. Stroll. Saunter…Explore” (1). I am a prime example of a poor explorer. I do not move without purpose or a plan. I fear of getting lost and I typically follow a set trail or a leader. Stigloe explains, “Ordinary exploration begins in casual indirection, in the juiciest sort of indecision, in deliberate, then routine fits of absence of mind” (9). I long to explore as I have rarely, or possibly never, done before – drifting mindlessly forward. Stigloe’s call for exploration is an essential way of seeing as Dillard describes.

A recent experience I had running with a friend through the neighborhoods and hills surrounding Lafayette was a clear example of my failure to see. It took experiencing my regular running route with a friend with fresh eyes and a unique perspective for me to truly see the trail and all that surrounded me. I plan to expand on this experience and these ideas in my response paper.