This weekend I drove over the Hudson River a few times a bit north of the city en route to a golf tournament. While on Saturday I was unable to see the water from the bridge because of rain and haze, on Sunday I got a clearer look at the river. I was struck by how brown the water was, and was curious whether or not that meant that it was highly contaminated and filled with sediments. I remembered that the EPA had started a project to clean up the Hudson in the early 2000’s, and I went to the website after getting back to see what efforts had been made to try and clean up the River.

The Hudson originally became dirty because of two General Electric Plants (GE) that were discharging PCB’s into the water (Polychlorinated Biphenyls). PCB’s were banned by the EPA after this, and the section of the River where the plants were discarding the waste was noted as a highly contaminated zone.

The process to restore the Hudson to a cleaner environment is still enjoying; phase II of the project is currently underway, as the EPA looks to dredge the bottom of the River in sections to try and improve water flow and rid sections of sediment buildup.

More information can be found here: http://www3.epa.gov/region02/superfund/hudson/cleanup.html

Here’s one that celebrates “Manifest Destiny” and the harnessing of the Columbia River (Woody Guthrie, 1941):

And another one, 30 years later, that mourns the loss of the Green River (KY) to the Peabody Coal Co (John Prine, 1971)

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.

Driving back up to school this morning after a night at home, I turned to my right and looked at the Delaware River. I really looked at it. I never before realized this, but I had only been seeing it up until yesterday. I considered my drive up to school to be a beautiful scene, but hadn’t necessarily honed in on the incredible, awe-striking, significance of the river itself.

Kayaking down it yesterday definitely opened my eyes to a few aspects of the river that I had not previously considered. For one, it is vast. Noticing the river in my peripheral vision never quite allowed me to understand how wide it is. Although I knew that the Delaware River stretched as long as it does, actually powering myself to traverse only a fraction of it solidified the awesomeness of its size in my mind. Secondly, the river is living, thriving history which still influences human and natural civilization today. As was said yesterday, the water in the river has been around for all of earth’s history. Those molecules have touched the underside of George Washington’s boats, entered the pores of logs that were being shipped down the river to build homes in Philadelphia, and have incurred drops of beer spilled from groups of tubing partiers (not that we’ve seen any of that….).

The natural world, bodies of water in particular, have experienced all of human and natural history with a front row seat. And they are not in museums tucked behind a glass case and shielded from any more human experience. They are there to see, touch, immerse yourself in, kayak on, fish in, and become part of. For a second, think about how tightly we protect historical artifacts from other humans. Now add up all of the history that the Delaware River has seen and compare that to the painting of Washington Crossing the Delaware that is currently in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. If anyone tried to touch that painting, security guards would tackle him/her. However, all that painting saw was the original painter, the oil paints on its surface, and the inside of museums. It’s truly a privilege that we get to interact with the same substance with which all of history interacted.

I also want to express my agreement with Eiseley concerning the timeless nature of rivers. Before the kayak trip, I was entranced by his description of feeling evolution and dynamism in the river. During the trip, this line rang through my head: “Its (water) substance reaches everywhere; it touches the past and prepares the future; it moves under the poles and wanders thinly in the heights of air” (16). I, too, felt connected to history as well as the future. I was thinking a lot about the potential pipeline that would cut right through it. Would it intrude upon the river in a visually obvious way, or be more underground? Would the engineers use the utmost care in sealing it tightly, or could one mistake damage the river permanently? Humans have used this river for mighty purposes and have managed not to ruin it too badly. Could one false move change that forever?

Yesterday we had the great opportunity to get out on the water and make our way down the Delaware. I can certainly say that as we got out of the vans, into our kayaks, and finally back to campus, my mindset evolved over the course of the day. Questions like “how hard am I going to have to paddle?”, “why am I up so early?”, and “Do I really have to get my shoes dirty?” were dominating my psyche early; although I was excited for the trip, I had to prepare myself for the true hands-on nature of the activities. But these questions did not linger long in my head, as being on the water often takes my mind to much simpler, elemental places. I began asking myself questions such as “What’s causing that disturbance in the water?”, and “Are the cormorants looking to feed?”.

Your attention is always required when you’re in the water, and it was nice to be able to solely focus on the task at hand yesterday: getting my kayak down the river with, hopefully, me still in it. Questions regarding school work and social life turned into questions regarding paddle strokes, angles into rapids, and wildlife moving around us. I think it would be easy to say that the river distracted me from other obligations for the time, but I feel that classification is a disservice to the river. Rather, I would say that the river reestablished what was important to me at that moment, the elemental nature of life, and oriented my thoughts away from superficial distractions that can easily be mistaken for the building blocks of life. What a nice way to spend a Saturday.

Yesterday morning when I woke up at 7:30, my morning routine was pretty standard- got up, washed my face, got changed, made breakfast, packed my bag. As it approached 8:20, my cell phone went on the kitchen table, where it would be staying for the majority of the day. When I traveled to New Zealand over interim, I essentially had no phone or internet access for 3 weeks, so the thought of not having my phone wasn’t too terrifying- but that was me being halfway across the world, on a completely different time zone (who was I going to talk to?)  and still having access to my cell phone for photos. When I told my parents our class was going on a kayaking trip their response was “have fun, send lots of picture.” So going into the trip the not having a phone for pictures was a little unsettling.

Once we got on the river, ie Lori and I in a tandem kayak- a kayak that seemed to really favor any direction but straight (disclaimer it may have or may not have been the paddlers who were the cause of this), I noticed we kept mentioning to each other that we wished we could have taken photos. However, as we continued to paddle down the Delaware River we saw some magnificent sights. One of my favorites was the fawn that was running up and down the bank of the river. It just so happened that as our kayak directing us to right, we were able to see through the brush a baby fawn prancing through the brush. Another sight I personally enjoyed was the heron that was perched on a rock that was partially submerged in the river. My family has recently moved to Sanibel Island in Florida,a place where the wildlife is outstanding and something the island is really proud of. When we are down there, my parents are always bird watching, and one of their favorite birds to look out for is the Blue Heron. In our house we have many pictures, sculptures etc of herons. So that sight was particularly exciting to me. However, my absolute favorite moment of the trip was when we saw the ducklings, who had yet to molt, trying to fly. Lori and I actually stopped paddling so we could watch the ducklings as they propelled themselves down the river in attempt to get themselves up in the air. It was one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen.

When I woke up yesterday morning I was uneasy about not being able to take photos on the trip, however I am grateful that I didn’t have the opportunity. I’ve seen this when my family goes on vacation, sometimes taking photos causes us to miss the full experience. We get so wrapped up in trying to get the perfect picture that our experiences aren’t the same. I also see it even more when I go to do something with my friends, sometimes it feels like the only reason they want to go is “for the Instagram,” and not for the experience. They spend the whole time we are there trying to get the perfect shot and find the perfect filter that by the time they are done they haven’t even gotten to experience the event (but don’t worry, they usually end up getting a satisfactory number of likes on their photo that it makes the “experience” worth it).  If we were to have had our phones on this trip I definitely would have missed out on a lot of the wildlife I saw on the river. I also wouldn’t have been in touch as much with all my senses. One moment that really stands out to me was right when we were about to unload the kayaks from the river and we were able to hear the bird callings. The sound was so magnificent, radiant and consumed the air. Although the other group of people who were floating down the river were disruptive to us and our group discussion, it was in a way nice to have them as a way to compare our experiences and to help me appreciate what we had just experienced. I can guarantee the other group of people missed opportunities and experiences (like the bird calls) that I was able to have.