It was week eight. I was over the point where I needed to get used to it, I was used to it,  it was natural.  I didn’t miss it, I felt like I could always live without it.

It was my eighth week without a shower.

And boy was I dirty, considering I hadn’t set foot in a shower for 56 days. I bet you’re thinking, goodness that’s disgusting, how could you ever do that, don’t you like the feeling of being clean? I have to say that I didn’t really notice; after a certain point you stop wanting to take showers. It’s a nice feeling not having to be dependent on being clean every morning.  And your body gets used to it, too, the most obvious being that your hair stops looking greasy. When I did finally take a shower after 8 and 1/2 weeks, it was sort of a let down.  The teachers who thought I was being ridiculous but didn’t really care that much told me it was going to feel great, so I expected that.  But it didn’t, it felt like jumping into the water for a polar bear, except a little bit warmer.  And I didn’t feel any different at all, and I didn’t look any different!

I couldn’t tell you why I did it. Every time someone asks it is a different answer.  Sometimes I think it was because I was saving so much water, other times I think it was because of all the time that I saved.  Taking a shower here is a huge ordeal especially in the winter where the idea of going out into the cold with wet hair makes my skin crawl.  I also think that our society has a problem with being dirty, a clean obsession.  The best example I can think of is during the power outage, which was a week long, when the water in the showers was probably colder than the ocean, people STILL showered, some people daily.  And to top it all off it was snowing outside! The best way I can describe it is to imagine yourself taking a shower in snow-cold water and then rolling around in that snow. If that sounds nice and refreshing to you then you have a problem, to me it just sounds cold.

I think the real reason I did it was because I could. No one told me I had to shower, there were no social pressures, no parents to tell me I was disgusting. Everyone accepted how badly I smelled or how gross I looked, which by the way I didn’t at all.  The idea that I had so much freedom and that I was finally responsible for myself was liberating.

Although I only waited three weeks before my next shower, I think that the idea of not taking a shower for such a long time, and being okay with it, will stick with me forever.  Regardless of what anyone may think, when I go home I plan on only taking one shower a week at the most. Whats the point in taking more than that? Why can’t I help the environment and be independent at the same time? How convenient.

-Emily Ockert, Syracuse, NY

At Chewonki, our Natural History of the Maine Coast class has another wonderful facet that most people miss out on.  Every other Friday, all the students head out on the Neck to our individual spots in the woods that we picked out at the beginning of the semester.  We spend our allotted hour doing whatever activities have appealed to us.  This exercise in alone time and creativity is called phenology.  My phenology is to scream for minutes at a time, and then write about my thoughts.  It is very therapeutic.  Here, I describe the feelings and ideas I evoke during phenology, an integral part of Chewonki.

“Nakedness of a yell or a scream.  These words do not adequately sum up what this therapy is.  A yell wants a response.  A scream wants to alert, perhaps, but more often than not is an ejaculation of surprise or something like that.  These devices are still cloaked in the guise of “necessity” and “unintentionality.”  To truly be naked in voice, you have to choose to do the thing.  I have chosen, elected, to utilize this device for my Phenology.  I don’t yet know what to call it but I know it is not a yell or a scream or a blurt or an ejaculation.  This is a conscious choice to stream my energy through my mouth up out of my lungs and abdominal muscles and heart and mind to infuse and permeate and get glued to the trees and the rocks and the leaves on the ground.  This is a choice, and that makes all the difference.

“It begins with making a sound, usually a vowel sound.  Your body, I suppose I ought to say my body, is familiar with this simple act.  Most everybody is.  It becomes foreign and scary and unnerving when it extends for more than a second.  In society your body doesn’t make that sound/action, and even in private it doesn’t happen.  It isn’t singing, and it isn’t a scream.  It has developed into some kind of forceful moan that stays at constant pitch and slowly sucks the air out of your body.  I am doing this as I write.  It helps me concentrate.  The vibrations created by my vocal cords and my lungs shift and motivate the clutter and small ideas and large ideas and line them up and give me just enough oxygen to write and think.  It reminds me of a television show I used to watch about the creation of commonplace things.  A giant vibrating tray held and shifted potatos around, shaking off the water they were soaked in and moving them slowly and randomly/methodically to different holes in the tray to be sorted into baskets containing potatos of the same size.  I feel this happen within my brain as I expel my body’s energy and consciously flap my vocal cords, feel my lungs’ pressure that forces the air through them.  My tangled fishing line of emotion gets straightened and unwound and on both sides the line is grounded by my ideas, fallen from the tray, clear in their purpose and confident.  The ideas, like stones, weigh each end of the line down over the metal structure of my past and upbringing and experience.”

-Maxson Jarecki, New York, NY

I never had a full literal comprehension of taking the road less travelled until now. It all started with trail running. After the first couple of months here, I grew tired of running down Chewonki Neck Road every day, and so the green overgrowth of the 300 uncleared acres of Chewonki Neck lured me in.  There is something intrinsically cathartic about dodging roots, mind and feet in sync. Before I was familiar with the land, I would pick a trail and follow it, never quite aware of where it would lead me. But often times I found my mind wandering and I started to long for exploration, off of the trails.

Now, I start as if I’m on a run; pick one of the trail entrances to the woods, but before I even finish the first mile, I find myself noticing something unique about that particular area, and I bush whack through trees to explore my surroundings. Getting myself lost in the woods was always hobby of mine when I was in grade school, and I’ve picked it up again. I find at Chewonki that I don’t have the same demands as at home to be doing something that others interpret as having substance, so I have the luxury of walking aimlessly in the woods for hours without worrying about being misjudged or missing out on anything crucial. And, can I say, the rewards are amazing. Each view over the water or cool clearing in the woods I find is better than the last. The woods give me time to self- reflect, without outside influences and distractions. And when I finally succumb to the pull of my homework or find myself missing human interaction and I walk back to the quad, I always have a smiling, welcoming community to return to.

-Kacey Jones, Waccabuc, NY

THERE is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the Universe, and feel
What I can ne’er express, yet cannot all conceal.
-George Gordon, Lord Byron, from Childe Harolde

Last Friday we ‘went to the woods’ to begin our two-day solos out on Chewonki Neck.  Feelings of excitement and anxiety blanketed the campus as we prepared for departure.  It had seemed as if the weekend would never come, but now that it was here, were we ready?  Forty-eight hours suddenly appeared an eternity – how was one to occupy oneself alone in the wilderness?  Equipped with only a sleeping bag, journals, clothes, and a bag of GORP, I set off into the woods, said goodbye to my advisor, and began to familiarize myself with my new home.  My cabin was replaced by a tarp, my cabin-mates by dozens of friendly red squirrels.  (I still have not determined who is the louder of the two.)  Instead of checking my watch, I measured time by the position of the sun and the movement of the tides.  This gave time a curiously mutable quality; at times the hours seemed to extend far beyond their sixty minutes, and then…where had the afternoon gone?!  I was surprised to discover how obsessive I am about knowing the time.  After the first night, however, I embraced the unknowing and allowed myself to do whatever it was I felt like doing, without worry of how long it might take.  It was incredibly liberating to exist independently of a set time schedule.

Writing, thinking, and observing became my primary activities.  I reflected about my Chewonki experience, asking myself how it had changed me.  What had I learned about myself over the last couple of months and what did it mean for my future?  It sounds incredibly self-absorbed as I recount it, but the process was enlightening.  It is so rare today, with all of the distractions and expectations of the modern world, to simply sit and think about the world and our place in it.  AP tests, college admissions, t.v. shows…they seem much less significant when you are alone in the woods.

Spending some quality time with Nature was an additional bonus.  Although the weather may not have been as balmy as I prefer, I appreciated with new eyes common sightings, such as the bark on trees and the flying of geese.  At first I would gaze at my surroundings and see nothing out of the ordinary.  Then, after an indeterminate amount of time (but for our purposes, let’s just say thirty minutes), I would suddenly see so many signs of life, signs of life that I had entirely overlooked.  It makes me wonder how many other things I am missing.  What all could we see if we opened ourselves up to the world and paid attention to our surroundings?

As with many Chewonki experiences, solo weekend passed incredibly quickly.  I was struck by how loud everything seemed upon my return to campus.  It was great to see everyone else though, and to share all of our unique solo experiences and epiphanies.  I would have happily remained within the woods another day or two, however, I will readily admit, it was nice to have running water.  But I look forward to trying the solo experience again someday (perhaps during warmer weather).

-Kathryn Currier, Charlotte, NC

Photos by Caitlin Scott.

On Saturday, we all hosted the accepted students for next year.  Earlier in the week we had all signed up for different jobs, such as tour-guiding and participating in the question and answer session.  The bell rang at 7:15 in the morning and Ranch stumbled to breakfast.  After breakfast we cleaned all the common spaces to ensure the campus looked nice for the day.  Around 9:15 the accepted students started to arrive.  Eight of the students from our semester went over to the CEE to greet them and make them feel welcome.  Then at 10:15, a bunch of us went over to give tours to the families.  We showed them around campus and got the chance to talk about our personal experience at Chewonki.  It was fun to be able to share our stories and hopefully each family felt welcome and enjoyed their time here.

After the tours, we gathered in the whale room for the question and answer session.  The prospective students and their families got the chance to ask current students and teachers about Chewonki and what it is like to live here.  We talked about how fun weekends are, why we enjoy classes so much, and the secrets to making sure your cabin isn’t freezing when you wake up in the morning.  Then we ate lunch with them and later four students took them on a walk to The Point.  Although the day was a little sad because it means our semester is coming to an end, it was a fun day and I enjoyed getting the chance to make next year’s students feel welcome at Chewonki.

-Melissa Mooradian, Brookline, MA

After much anticipation for what may or may not have been the deciding factor in my choosing spring semester over fall, the lambs are finally here. In the last week, the arrival of spring has come with such heavy handed forcefulness, I can’t help but marvel at the absurdity. When we got back from vacation, all but one of the sheep had already given birth. Me and my wonderful cabin-mate Bella eagerly signed up for the first 3 a.m. lamb watch. When my alarm went off that morning at 2:50 I somehow woke up with more energy than I remember having at any of the previous 6:40 wake ups. Being outside on campus at that hour was eerie but invigorating. As we walked to the barn, the sound of frogs from a nearby pond was deafening. Being inside the barn at that time is also a totally different experience from being there during the day. During the day, the barn and the farm animals have a cute, charmingly wholesome quality that I sometimes write of as kitschy, but in the middle of the night, the blue spotlight of the flashlights glare in the animal’s eyes and reveal their true animalistic almost terrifying magnificence. Bella and I located the blurry beast that was sheep number 17 and concluded that she was not in labor. We got back to our cabin within 15 minutes of waking up and curled back into bed for a delicious three more hours of sleep.

The next day, my other wonderful cabin mate Lindsey and I signed up for the 5:40 p.m. feeding of Winken, the blind lamb. Before we went, Megan the farmer pulled us aside to tell us that sheep number 17 had been showing early signs of labor earlier that day and we should be sure to check her when we fed Winken. Somewhat giddy with anticipation, we ran over to the farm 10 minutes early. Sure enough, there was number 17, pacing in circles. We fumbled with the walkie talkie, frantically trying to alert Margaret the farm manager, but apparently we’re not adept enough at using such advanced technology. Lindsey ran inside the farmhouse to try to find help and I watched as an obscure hoof like object began to emerge from the beast. Soon enough, the farmers rushed back from faculty meeting and a number of other students began appearing seemingly out of nowhere. Lindsey and I got the milk bottle and took Winken out of his enclosure. We took turns holding him and feeding him in our arms as we watched what was potentially the most raw and jarring affirmation of the life cycle I have ever witnessed firsthand.

-Soren Hope, New York, NY

Last Saturday night, it was announced that we were going to have a Contra Dance.  After a great dishcrew-planned Burrito Dinner, everybody walked back to their cabins to dress in their most ‘Country’ outfits.  James and Johnny rocked the Jorts (jean shorts) while others sported either plaid or dresses.  After a few rounds of pictures, we were ready to get serious on the dance floor.  Everybody stood in a circle, waiting for the first set of instructions.  “Find a partner, ladies and gents.  And don’t be afraid to hold hands.”  As soon as partners were established, the band started playing and we were on our way.  Now, for anyone who does not know what a Contra Dance is, it is basically a folk line-dance while facing a partner.  For the first dance of many, we were in a circle and it consisted of a lot of swinging, clapping, and sliding.  The night continued with some more swinging, clapping, and sliding… and tons of laughter.  Looking around the room, literally everyone had the biggest smiles on their faces.   It was the perfect Saturday night after returning from spring break.  I simply can’t wait for more new experiences and laughter in the next few short weeks we have left.

-Ali Boochever, Washington, DC

1. The Sunrise. Flying to Georgia at 5am on Sunday morning was not that exciting. We had gotten up at 3:30 and were stoked to finally be on the plane where we could sleep. But we didn’t sleep because out the windows, to the east, was the sun. It was rising above a the clouds and it was incredible because with out any mountains or buildings to block the horizon the sky was orangey pink as far as we could see. And the clouds had absorbed the color just as they always do however we were on top of them so instead of colored cotton balls in the sky they were a carpet stretching endlessly under us. It was amazing to watch.
2. Emma Mabel Carlson. She was the other trip leader (in addition to Jenn and Willard) and she was awesome. None of us knew her at all before the trip but when she arrived at the airport in the Chewonki bus wearing a green head band with faux pigtails, we all knew that the trip would be awesome. And it was. Plus we (the 5 girls on the trip) are all a little (a lot) bit obsessed with her and plan to visit her in her office all the time.
3. Pileated Woodpecker. Cumberland has awesome wildlife. Although some were animals that we were used to and not psyched about (gnats, for example) the birds were great. We’ve been learning new species in Birds class (Mondays at 5 with Don Hudson) all semester and it was sweet to see things like the Pileated Woodpecker, an enormous bird that slightly resembles a pterodactyl (because it is so awkward and has a pointy head).
4. Armadillos. Other awesome wildlife were the armadillos. Like little old men they wandered slowly on their hairy little legs through the Palmettos, frequently stumbling into the middle of our campsite. I know that armadillos are rarely thought of as hairy. That’s because they’re not, they’re scaly, but their legs have long whit hairs that surround their tops (kind of like the hairs in the ears of an old man, hence my analogy).
5. Wild Horses. The horses on Cumberland Island are now an entirely wild herd. Although their ancestors were once domesticated by former residents, the horses roam freely on the beaches, in the dunes, through the swamps and amongst the widely scattered private homes. One morning we all woke up to see the sunrise and were excited to see horses grazing all throughout the dunes on our walk to the beach.
6. Swimming. With 55 degree water and 70 degree days we found it necessary (as the Mainers that we currently are) to talk advantage of the balmy weather. We went swimming while Willard lifeguarded and locals stared. Apparently swimming in March is not a typical thing in Georgia. We thought it was fun though.
7. South of the Border. Anyone who’s driven the east coast before has probably seen the South of the Boarder billboards dotting the highway. They have also probably peered of the guardrails as they finally drive by and wondered who would ever stop there. The answer is us. We stopped for a bathroom break and also managed to take pictures with every ridiculous, oversized animal statue there in less than ten minutes. People stared but we had an awesome time.
8. Lydie’s House. Lydie was on the trip with us and we stayed at her house on Friday night. It was a twelve-ish hour drive from Jacksonville, FL to Charlotte, VA and we arrived at 2:18 am. Exhausted we went straight to sleep with no idea of our surroundings. What was amazing was waking up an realizing we were pretty close to paradise. Rolling hills with green grass and red soil surrounded their old farmhouse. We had signed up for the trip in hopes of an amazing new perspective of Georgia (one of many reasons) but we also got an incredible introduction to the piedmont.
9. Tie-Dye Shop. Thirty minutes north of Lydie’s house we stopped for gas and discovered the most amazing little Tie-Dye store. We begged Willard to let us go in and of course he agreed. The woman there was awesome. She told us all about her life and the history of her tie-dye passion and the fact that she tie-dyed the Spice Girls outfits for the CMAs one year. We all bought something and learned that whenever we’re next in Opal, VA we had better stop there.
10. Ice Cream for Dinner. At the DC rest stop (just north of the capital) we had a quick bathroom break and for some reason an incredible craving for ice cream. So we begged Willard to let us have ice cream for dinner. It was probably one of the most exciting moments of my life. I don’t really know why. Partly because of our ridiculous energy, partly because we’d been joking about it the whole trip and then it finally happened, and partly because when you’ve been in a bus for eight hours, everything is exciting.

-Morgan LaPointe, Deerfield, MA