Yesterday’s 10-mile excursion down the Delaware River made me reflect on daily life. The calm moments were those with no rapids and the time spent hanging out on the shore with no phones waiting for you to drop off the vans. The stressful moments consisted of rapids, physically leaving the water, and turning on my phone again. However the moments not paddling and drifting slowly down the river were able to put a smile on my face because of the sheer beauty and unaltered landscape of the Lehigh Valley. I reflected on what the times before trains, automobiles, and factories could have been like, but also the appreciation for the hundreds of unaltered miles of river that we are still able to flow down due to the protection of wilderness and how important this land became to us only a century ago.

Our trip yesterday also reminded me of a movie I saw about a year ago called Deliverance. This is a  film from the early 70’s about four ‘cultured’ businessmen taking time off to canoe down a pristine river in rural Georgia before it gets dammed. In a beginning scene, called the “Dueling Banjos” (please youtube it, great scene), the businessmen stop for gas at a very local place (actually a house of a local family). The relationship between the businessmen and locals (called rednecks in the film) is eye opening and almost frightening. There are two types of people occupying the land in two very different ways, and this conflict leads the group straight into local savages.

The connection between the movie and our rafting trip was the span of time we were within earshot of the rafting gentlemen who weren’t afraid to hoot and holler and have a good time out on the river. Their use of the river was completely different from ours. While we observed the birds and fish, they were drinking and telling ridiculous stories. We’re not all meant to do one or the other, but seeing the difference in motives for going down the Delaware caught my attention.

Our little excursion down the Delaware has reawakened my sense of nature. In other words kayaking the Delaware left me with a new, redesigned sense of how being in wilderness is vastly different than being in civilization, or areas of high urbanization. After a long period of time where your not in wilderness you sort of lose that sense and in my opinion is good to experience something that is not artificial.

Regarding that idea of wilderness, I felt once we went under that second large highway bridge there was something very different about where we were. The amount of infrastructure on the shores became more spread out and the forest was percievably thicker. Also there was noticeable change in sound, the buzzing of cars could not be heard and were replaced by the wind, rain droplets, our paddling and conversation. I did not know where we were, but the sound’s calmness and serenity made me feel safe.

Staying on this topic of sound and its powerful influence on the human mind and body, this NPR piece I remember listening this past spring is quite interesting and really further illustrates the benefit we get from experiencing the sound’s of wilderness. Never discredit the ability of sound.

http://www.npr.org/event/music/408184979/chui-wan-the-sound-of-wilderness

After now kayaking on both rivers and lakes, I can safely say that yesterday’s kayaking experience was one of the best I have had. Having a constantly changing environment was much more interesting and engaging. It also allowed us to interact with our natural surroundings much more than most activities.

For instance, Teri and I challenged ourselves to navigate through the most challenging parts of the river. Although the Delaware River is by no means a white water rapid, it did have some fun parts. For instance, we aimed for the biggest rapids and zipped in and out of large rocks that protruded from the water.

Having the freedom and time to just explore all the different parts that we wanted to really added to the experience. Wandering away from the group let us get lost (to an extent) on the river and seek out the paths less traveled. We saw a variety of wildlife (including Bambi on an island) and rustic signs of humans on some islands like some abandoned fire pits.

Although we did not witness anything which we had never seen before, these everyday things had a different feel to them through the lens of being on the river. There is something different once you are on the water and floating along with Mother Nature. Maybe it is the slow pace or the connection with the water (I am looking at you Eiseley), but this was one of my favorite memories of the year so far.

Today’s kayaking trip was a great opportunity to look back on our readings of Flambaeu from Aldo Leopold and Eisley’s piece, The Flow of the River. We made the transition from society into a calmer more natural setting but still occasionally seeing these signs of civilization. I noticed a house on the hill breaking up the beautiful hillside. Andy mentioned he felt the same way and I joked that whoever lives probably doesn’t like having his view of the river tainted by kayakers.

But once we reached the stretches of pure nature it was a much more humbling experience. I made an effort to keep track of all my senses while I paddle down the river. I made note of the birds flying overhead a cat eating a catfish on the side of bank. But for me, the most interesting thing was when it started raining. The symphony of splashing raindrops falling in the river all around us was almost a sensory overload. The familiar smell of rain was amplified by the river itself and by the millions of raindrops exploding across the entire river. In that moment, we were connected to the river from above and below.

As we paddled down the Delaware yesterday, I was inspired not only by the beauty of the area, but also by the history of the river. There were multiple points on our journey when I felt connected to something greater than the moment we were in.

Despite crossing over the Delaware countless times when traveling around the area, it wasn’t until yesterday that I made the connection that we were paddling on the same river that George Washington crossed in 1776. As we discussed at the end of our paddle, it was the “same water” that has been on this planet forever. It was a pretty cool connection to make.

A second moment that stuck me was when we encountered the ancient boulder fields towards the end of our trip. The juxtaposition of the jagged rocks shooting out of the still waters was a simple beauty that stood out to me. Once again, it was humbling to think that those rocks have been there for thousands of years.

Lastly, I thought it was really cool to learn about the canal barges that dominated the trade industry in the region during the early 1900s. I can only imagine how cool it would have been to see a 90 foot boat floating down the canal, unobstructed by the hustle and bustle of modern technology. On our drive back to Lafayette, I noticed a mural that was painted on the railroad bridge at the intersection of the Delaware and Lehigh River. Painted clearly on the side was an image of one of the canal boats that we had just learned about. It is clear that the city of Easton is proud of its historical relationship with the waters that flow through it.

During our enjoyable excursion numerous observations, questions, and thoughts were brought up; it was really nice to hear what this experience brought to people’s minds. While my observations, thoughts, and ideas about this experience covered a broad range and hopped from place to place, I found for much of the time I took note of change in wilderness flavor Leopold mentions in Flambeau during the trip and the immersion into this wilderness experience I felt as a result.

Starting off, it too seemed like when we set off the wilderness at the confluence of the Delaware and the Lehigh was on its “last legs” as in Flambeau. As we sat there for some time discussing the reading I took in the setting. The massive dam seemed intimidating, a large dead tree caught in its grasp. The large concrete ramp we sat on seemed barren, a desert of pavement alongside the river. The constant screeching of cars passing over the grating of the Free Bridge’s floor rang through the scene. As we sat there all these sorts of things and more seemed to put this river’s wilderness on its last legs. However, once the trip had commenced I was pleased to see the restoration of the wilderness flavors and the corresponding feeling of being immersed in this experience and surrounded by this wilderness.

As we continued on the wilderness flavors became more apparent and abundant, and those infringing on them much more sparse. The sounds of the birds and insects along the river became louder and more apparent as we moved forward. Signs of wildlife became more noticeable in the form of things like bounding deer, bubbles of some aquatic animal rising to the surface of the water, birds stretching and drying their wings for flight, and much more. As these restored wilderness flavors exposed themselves and captivated my senses, I felt more in tune with this wilderness around me. It was easier to observe more of and some of the smaller details of the wilderness as these wilderness flavors became more apparent, better enabling immersion into this experience.