Today, Julie, Joe, and myself went out to our site near a bend in Bushkill Creek to spend some time learning about its past, the current state of nature, and man’s interaction with the site. Nestled just underneath the football stadium, the Bushkill lazily meanders around bends that border roads, paths, and lush vegetation. Thousands of flies hovered around slack pools in the Creek, as they also heard the few splashes that we did, indicating that fish were feeding in our vicinity. While the immediate border of the Creek was dense with trees, vines, roots, and other plants, not much else was still left unmolested by man. Standing on the elevated bank of the river, it was hard to communicate with one another; not because of the water’s force, but rather, because of the sound of the road very close behind us. A pump station had a release pipe entering into the Creek, shooting water in a new direction, combating the natural flow of the river.

Beyond the banks, we are sure that an interesting story is to be told from the ruins of old buildings dating back to the 19th century in some instances. Walking around in the shadows of failing brick works, weathered exteriors and windows, we saw numerous signs for different enterprises: paper mills, Cordage companies, and other signs which we will be sure to discover more about. Trees battled foundations, as buildings and nature interacted with one another for space in the compacted area. Auto body garages now take up the space that these former businesses occupied, but they too are also part of the story of our location. It is a unique place because when driving on the road next to our location, it is nearly impossible to know you are next to the Creek; the vegetation is so dense, the flow of the water so removed from the bustle of humankind, it requires getting out and walking practically into the water to discover your natural neighbor.

We look forward to learning more about the aging buildings in our zone, and crafting a story regarding their interaction with the Creek, the College’s interaction with the Creek and buildings (the College owns some land in our site), and understanding why things are in Site 4 the way they are currently. 

Team: Nick Gates, Tory Bingaman, Owen McCann

This, our team began our research on Site 2, located along the Bushkill Creek at the bottom of college hill. We noticed the College’s intense redevelopment efforts in the area, noting that the architecture had changed dramatically even since we started at Lafayette.

In previous classes we’ve learned that our site has fallen victim to serious flooding over the years. After some initial research, we learned that the Delaware River (just down the way from our site) flows at 6ft on average. With the Bushkill being a major tributary to the Deleware, flooding clearly poses a serious threat to the Williams Art Campus. We are looking forward to examining how this flooding has effected the businesses, architecture and wildlife on our site.

Saturday on the kayaking trip, Ian, mentioned that after the canals along the river were shut down they were repurposed and turned into a state park. And again, in class today, two instances of abandoned or repurposed places were brought up. They were brought up during the GORP, where we looked at the abandoned cabins in Elkmont, Tennessee and later someone mentioned that the Bushkill Park site for their multimedia project was also an abandoned amusement park

At the mention of the latter, I remembered another abandoned amusement park that once existed near where I grew up. Forest Park was an amusement park that existed in Chalfont, Pennsylvania, around the corner from where I went to elementary school. The park was existed under various different names throughout the 19^th century but was finally named Forest Park in 1885. The park drew large crowds of people from Philadelphia and New York, who wished to escape the city for da trips. Some of the main attractions including a swimming pond, swam ride and merry-go-round. The park saw it’s peak numbers in the 1940’s post world-war II but admissions began to decline after a race riot in the late 1950’s and eventually shut down in 1968.

I’ve always had an interest in history, especially appreciated local history and on Saturday, when someone mentioned the importance of such things, I was reminded of these kind of places. Places and features changing over time is inevitable and sort of leads us to think of our own mortality. We remember places so distinctly and to think that in 50 years or 100 years they won’t exist anymore is a daunting thought. So to acknowledge and not forget these historic sites is to really pay respect to every one who ever worked, built or enjoyed these places.

Today, besides what is available online, the only standing homage to Forrest Park is some of the concrete slabs from the site. The Park also inspired the names of some of the neighborhoods that were built around the old site.

As we traveled up the final creek of our trip I saw the carcass of a deer underneath the water. When other students started to shout out about the dead deer I thought that I would freak out when I floated over it but a strange calmness and intrigue washed over me. I wanted to know what its story was and how it ended up at the bottom of the creek.

As I floated over the deer I thought of Eiseley and how he touched upon the interconnectedness of us all. I thought about death and how we need to face death like the deer I saw in the creek, we will all die one day. And when that day comes we will eventually become part of the Earth again. The water in our blood will become part of the rivers and our bones will become a part of the soil.

The water floating over the carcass has been floating this Earth for millions of years and the rocks beneath its bones has been there just as long. This Earth is older than all of us and we forget that everything has been there for much longer than we all have. Our own problems are so small compared to the lifetime of the Earth but we get wrapped up in the troubles of our life and forget to look at the big picture. I personally do this and forget to look around and as Walden would say I am asleep.

On this kayaking trip I was able to take a step back from my thoughts and think spiritually like Walden wants us to. I thought about the bigger ideas in life rather than the minuscule issues in my own life. I strangely became okay with the idea of death and accepted it. Seeing the dead deer in the Delaware was a wake up call- death is okay and it is a part of life just as the Earth is a part of our life.

I was having an amazing day Saturday kayaking down the Delaware river. It was incredibly peaceful and beautiful. Then I noticed some trash by the side of the river, just a small piece of paper. It broke up the rest of the landscape, stark and white against the brown rocks. It also annoyed me, a lot. I find littering to be one of the things people do that annoys me most because it is so avoidable. Once I had noticed the first piece of litter I began looking for more over and over on the riverbanks. I noticed a lot, probably one piece big or small every 50 or 100 yards.

At one point I noticed a crushed ping pong ball floating 10 feet in front of my cabin. I was in the front of the group, and after trying to catch the ping pong ball and missing, I turned to watch it float away. I watched it float through our entire group, and saw no one pick it up despite all of us caring about the environment. I do not believe this is because we are bad people. I believe it is because most people did not see it, and those who did saw it through the corner of their eye and did not register what it was.

This experience made me think about how much trash we walk by on a daily basis without noticing it. The next morning, thinking about trash I made sure to pay attention to what was on the ground while walking to wawa. In a two block walk I saw two plastic cups, ten cigarette butts, and a panini box. What was incredible to me about this is that I am sure there is the same amount of trash there on a daily basis but I usually never notice any of it. I wonder if other people are like me or I am simply absentminded.

1. Confluence– Ice cutting operation, log drives on Delaware, Getter’s Island

The Confluence is a hidden gem of Easton’s edge. Where the Bushkill meets the Delaware, there is piece of crumbling infrastructure that now acts as a partial dam. To the south, there is a homeless person’s paradise. It is complete with a practice target, a rope swing and a fire pit. The home is made up of blue construction tarps along with fallen trees that offers a great deal of protection from the elements. The ground is rocky until it meets the water edge. The water is calm off the Bushkill tributary; it appears to be no deeper than a foot.

Getter’s Island is in the middle of the Delaware River. It would be impossible for us to get there without swimming across. The island shores are rocky, and it is covered in various varieties of trees and shrubs. We see no wildlife, but you can hear the birds in the trees.

As we walk North towards 611, the cars pass us, speeding to their destination. The riverside of the highway is covered in litter. We pass another homeless person’s campground, carful not to disturb them. We come to the end of Getter’s Island, the entire landmass can be no more than half a mile long and 200 feet across at its widest point.

Observing Getter’s Island would have been much different if we were able to physically get on the Island and experience it. We would have been able to be up close to the nature, but instead we observe from a distance.

Erik Better, Tessa Broholm, Bethany Rack

When we watched the short litter-prevention ad of the “Crying Indian” I was promptly reminded of an exhibition I once visited that centered on the indigenous people of Canada. Amidst traditional clothing, hunting tools, building tools, and other artifacts and pieces of information, there was a small screening room that featured the short film/long music video I am posting here. It’s dense and historic in content but I have watched and listened to it so many times I’ve lost count. It speaks to the strengths and sorrows of the native people of the North American continent who have historically recognized and respected the natural world far more than their immigrant, namely colonial (and us as descendants) counterparts.

It is a moving piece if you devote the time to it, featuring pleas to remember the importance of the drive to save the buffalo and stand their ground, and lamenting of the loss of life at the hands of those who didn’t care enough to preserve it. I think it would be cheap to offer too much of my own interpretation without opening it first to anyone who wishes to form one of their own, but I find it an important and memorable piece of Native art and music.

<iframe src=”https://www.nfb.ca/film/ballad_of_crowfoot/embed/player” width=”560″ height=”315″ frameborder=”0″></iframe><p style=”width:560px”><a href=”https://www.nfb.ca/film/ballad_of_crowfoot” target=”_blank”><em>The Ballad of Crowfoot</em></a> by <a href=”https://www.nfb.ca/explore-all-directors/willie-dunn/” title=”more films by Willie Dunn” target=”_blank”>Willie Dunn</a>, <a href=”https://www.nfb.ca” target=”_blank”>National Film Board of Canada</a></p>

There’s a TED talk I once listened to that featured Mark Ronson and a few other collaborative artists on the nature and importance of collaboration, as well as the apparent human instinct to collaborate. One of things I always remember when I am quick to question a remix or a re-imagining of something that I already love is something that Mark Ronson said which was that we are drawn to insert ourselves into that which we love. When we began briefly to talk about songs about rivers, other than The River (which is my favorite in the Boss’ grand repertoire) I thought immediately of Down By The River by the king of angry environmental folk rock himself- Neil Young.

Though I actually knew of the Dave Matthews & Tim Reynolds version before I knew the original, I have always connected with the instrumentals in the song in a way that I identify with the rush of a dammed or rocky river. The way it’s fluid but also jolting is especially evident whilst kayaking, particularly in the rippling rapid-like patches we traversed. I don’t know, I guess either version is just a treat to listen to so I thought I would leave them here for anyone who hasn’t had the pleasure of hearing them previously.

Neil Young:

Dave: