Umbagog, 1972 – Don is sitting just to the left of Jon Goodwin, co-leader, who’s in the lower “crotch” of the old pine tree at Campfire. I’m out on the end of the right….other campers from top, then l to r: Gerry Hiam, Avery Smyser, John Medford, Spike Berry, Jeff Hilbrun, Don, Jon, Larry Fouraker, Dave Reynolds, Graham Lamb, me…..What a great summer it was. I recall Don spending a good time of our Umbagog experience (pre-kayaking – Umbagog that year was a combination of canoeing. hiking, bushwacking, and a lot of time spent at Umbagog – baking bread, preparing for Junior Maine Guide, natural history inventories, etc…..) going around Camp explaining things were “Ossum….”. Geez, that’s Ossum, this bread is ossum, this trip is going to be ossum……etc., etc…..Now, I know 14 year olds of yesteryear are not quite as “mature” as, say, 14 year olds today are……but I honestly thought Don was exclaiming excitement regarding some animal that I wasn’t sure I was aware of – and comparing it to various positive acts around camp. I obviously had never heard the term “awesome” used before!!!!! Ahhhh….it was a summer of learning lots of different things, not to mention the use of the English language. Don – we never did find Parmachenee Lake, did we??!!

I mostly wanted to add a few photos from my enjoyable time working with Don and others at Chewonki on the Back River Trail. I always looked forward to coming to the magical Chewonki campus for meetings or site walks and often with the treat of a Chewonki lunch – yum! I especially appreciated Don’s wisdom and enthusiasm throughout our project together.

Don Hudson and Lester Kenway on the Back River Trail at Eaton Farm in Wiscasset.

As Don’s older brother, I have many memories of Don at Chewonki, the earliest being those of our family’s first summer together on the neck – in 1962. As incredible as it may seem, there were a number of summers when I was at Chewonki and Don wasn’t – when he was in Bloomington getting his PhD, for example.

But the memory that stands out for me as an example of Don’s connection to and faith in Chewonki was of the winter of 1972-73, when first he – and then we – lived in the Gatehouse – which, at the time, served primarily as Tim Ellis’s winter office. Don had graduated from Dartmouth the previous spring, spent the summer at Umbagog, and then did some bicycle touring with a friend in Europe after a job at the Vagabond Club in Switzerland fell through. Returning to America earlier than he had planned, Tim and Margaret hired him to restore an old pasture behind their house on Montsweag Road (and restore their view of the bay).

Tim offered him one of the bedrooms on the second floor of the Gatehouse, a drafty old place then very much in need of restoration. When Tim closed up shop at the end of the day, Don was alone on Chewonki Neck – with his cat – until I arrived in January – having just been discharged from the Air Force. I was picking up my career at Bowdoin as a second semester junior, and living on old familiar, holy ground seemed like a good way to ease my way back into civilian life. Don and I had not been the most amicable of siblings, separated by only 18 months, but, by this time, our sibling rivalry had abated, and during that winter we discovered how much we really liked each other. It was great to drive down the long dark road to that house late on a cold February afternoon to a warm kitchen, a hot meal, often to the smell of bread baking in the oven, and, later, to the Bruins on the radio.

But what is most significant about that winter for me was not the joy of living on the neck (which no one had done for years – since the Hoyts left); it was what it said about Don’s commitment to and love of Chewonki.It was during that winter that Tim and Tom Bertocci’s plan for Maine Reach hatched. It didn’t take Don long to warm up to the idea, and he signed on as a faculty member early in the planning process – when the concept was only that – an idea. He had the faith in the place and the people (Tom and Tim, in particular) and a vision – with them – of what Chewonki could become. So, for him, that drafty Gatehouse meant a lot more than a cheap, convenient place to hang his hat; it meant anteing up – laying a stake – taking a risk – for a lifetime of intimate involvement in a place and an idea – Chewonki – that he loved, then – and grew to shape and nurture and guide for years to come. It was the first of many fruitful winters for him on Chewonki Neck; I’m glad I was able to share it with him.

While many may have a single Don story that made an impact on their lives, for me, Don’s very presence is what I learned the most from. Were that everyone could be so simultaneously passionate about the teaching material and also so permanently at peace. While he may disagree and remember my MCS group differently, I do not ever recall Don being angry or curt. And, in turn, I do remember bird calls still nearly 20 years later.
Don has inspired many, and has served as a guiding leader for Chewonki,MCS, many institutions of their kind, and education in the big picture.

Our first MCS wilderness trip happened in September of 1988 at Tim Ellis’s camp on the New Hampshire side of Lake Umbagog. Don, of course, led the trip, being the senior trip leader among the faculty.

The first day was a long trip across the lake to the Rapid River, followed by a hike up to Smooth Ledge. After a pleasant lunch and some swimming, we started back down, retrieved the canoes, and started home.

Oh, what an adventure it was. Almost as soon as we were in the canoes the kids started fooling around and a couple of boats nearly capsized. At this point, Don stood up in his canoe (I think he was paddling solo) and yelled at them to pay and attention and stop playing around (of course, this little speech was delivered in Don’s typically understated, barely audible, almost passionless voice). And then he said, memorably, “No one has ever capsized on one of my trips, so settle down!!!”

Ten ticks later, that record was broken with a splash and shout, and several curses.

After getting everyone back in the canoes (there’s still a camera on the bottom of the lake), we started back across the lake, but by this time, the wind had strengthened and we were paddling into its teeth. Don said something about needing to ferry and started off. After years in the Maine and Canadian lakes and rivers, it was no trouble for him and he smoothly pulled ahead. Unfortunately, Amy and I were paddling sweep with a number of very weak paddlers, and every time we started across, we were driven back to the shore. We made a number of switches to no affect. Lots of tears and cries of “I can’t do it!” and “I want to go home!” Meanwhile, Don’s canoe just got smaller and smaller and smaller.

It was clear that Amy and I were not going to make it with our charges, but eventually an angel of mercy emerged in a big powerboat, offering to tow us across. Humiliation!! Gratitude!! Relief!!

The story of the trip across the lake is another story, but eventually we made it, wet, cold, exhausted, pissed, but glad to see Don and the others as he handed us steaming cups of coffee and tea and a place to sit and warm up in front of the fire.

I’ve had the pleasure of scanning some old photos from the archives and past issues of the Chronicle. Can you find Don in this photo?

Last Thursday I accompanied Don and his family to Boston to watch him receive a lifetime achievement award from the Environmental Protection Agency. It was the 40th anniversary of the EPA and of Earth Day. Click the link below to watch the video taken by Don’s son Charlie:

http://www.youtube.com/chewonkivideo#p/a/FBCC75CB9360D5E5/0/YqTK5s4s_9o

I feel honored to have spent that last 7 years supporting Don’s work and his passion for the environment, people and great ideas. Don is a lightning rod. He knows a good idea when he sees it and he makes things happen. I remember my first week at Chewonki — he and I drove to Big Eddy to look over the new land that Chewonki would own on the shores of the Mighty West Branch. He was so excited by the whole thing. On the way to Big Eddy, a fisher (aka pole cat) crossed the road in front of us and we had the good fortune of seeing one of Maine’s most aggressive and nocturnal hunters.  Here’s a pictures I took of Don filling up his tank with biodiesel before we headed out on our trip.