This week Harper shares with us the highlight of his week: science field trip. Rain or shine, students go into the field each week to gain an understanding of the natural history of the Maine coast. Students have studied landscape ecology at Morse Mountain, rocky intertidal communities at Hermit Island and Pemaquid Point, and dune systems at Popham Beach. They have explored the salt marsh that borders our farm, collected macroinvertebrates in Montsweag brook, and, most recently, learned about forest succession and how to “read the landscape” to discover clues about the human land use history of our own Chewonki Neck.

Some of the sweetest moments on field trip happen when students put their pencils down, take in their surroundings, and let their curiosity, rather than their academic diligence, drive. Harper nearly got down to his hands and knees to watch the tide come in at the salt marsh. His eyes were locked in amazement as the water crept up over the mud flats, millimeter by millimeter.

Before coming to Chewonki, science field trips were not something I was particularly excited about or even thought about that often.  Science field trips weren’t the reason I applied here, and they weren’t the reason I came here. But now that I’ve had the experience first hand, field trips are one of the highlights of each and every week.  Every Tuesday, when I otherwise might be sitting in a classroom having my daily staring contest with the clock (spoiler alert: I always lose), I am standing knee deep in a salt marsh or exploring tide pools.  Every week I am amazed at the pure fact that I am outside, learning, and having an insane amount of fun while doing so.

Field trips always start out the same way: I dig through the bin of sandwiches made that morning searching for the one with my name on it.  Grabbing a handful of potato chips and putting them between the slices of bread quickly follows, and then I chow down.

Once we get out to our site for the week, we start with a site description and a map.  In our descriptions, we chronicle the weather, what ecological factors encourage certain plant life, and what may have caused the area to form the way it has.  If you were to come and watch us start our descriptions, you would hear questions being yelled through the air, such as: “What was the weather like yesterday?” “How hot is it?” “Is this a balsam or a hemlock?”

Interestingly enough, you will rarely hear any faculty answering these questions.  If you simply throw a question out to the group, another student is going to respond to you (hopefully with the right answer).  The only situation where I see faculty answering questions, is if you specifically go to them and ask.  During site descriptions, and during field trips in general, the faculty take a step back.  They always have certain material they need to cover, and they do typically steer us in the right direction, but the majority of questions are typically responded with “well, why do you think that is?”  And I feel like that really comes back to the whole teaching scheme of Chewonki.  Were not just being taught things, were being taught how to figure things out.

- Harper Estey, Ardmore PA

Students slept under the stars this weekend on their solos. With classes in full swing and semester projects underway in Art, Sustainability, and Environmental Issues, students have worked hard and encountered numerous challenges. Amidst the buzzing energy at Chewonki, it can be hard to find a quiet moment to relax, reflect on recent experiences, and think intentionally about the future. Olivia and MJ took time to write in their journals during their solos.

“11.05.11
mid-morning

After Paul, my advisor, dropped me off at my site yesterday, I spent a good hour finding a place for my tarp. I chose a nice open spot near the marsh, but last night was pretty chilly. I bundled up in long johns, sweats, two pairs of thick socks, a fleece, a neck-warmer, a hat, gloves, and a fleece onesie over it all. I tucked my clothes for the next day into my sleeping bag, wrapped myself in my blanket, and tried to fall asleep. It was most likely around 6pm.

I came out here expecting to have an epiphany about something, anything. I have a few things on my mind, but sometimes it’s nice not to think about anything at all. This is officially the longest stretch of time I’ve ever been alone, but it’s not the furthest into the wilderness I’ve ever been. I woke up to the sound of an airplane this morning, and I can hear Route 1 from where I’m sitting.

I’m on a rock by the marsh watching the tide go out. The water level has already sunk quite a lot since I first sat down and started writing. I think one of the coolest things about Chewonki is that I can walk through the forest and identify the plants around me. I’m sitting under an apple tree (was it planted?). I am in a stand of red oak, balsam fir, and white spruce, and can see the marsh grasses Spartina alternaflora and Spartina patens. Down the coast, I can make out white pine.

Another amazing aspect of Chewonki is that we ask questions like “why?” and “how?” How did this apple tree get here? Was it part of an orchard for someone who owned the land? It’s crazy to think how insignificant we are compared to the world. A logger’s work doesn’t pay off during a lifetime. So then why are we here? We don’t provide a significant food source for any species. Why were humans the species to develop as we did? Why does it matter if we die today, tomorrow, next year, or 100 years from now? Who knows. Could it be that the meaning of life is solely to be happy? We want time with the people we love, doing the things we love?

a little after 4pm

I am now under my tarp, allowing the day to come to an end. This morning I got up soon after the sun rose and went to raise my flag. I spent most of the day sitting peacefully on my rock on the edge of the marsh, writing and reading. It’s nice to get away from everything for a while. I finished Into the Wild and I’m enthralled. Sometimes I think Chris McCandless had the right idea. I would never want to abandon my family like Chris did, but I like his ideas of living off the land.”

- Olivia Cameron, Seattle WA

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(Friday)

“Night time. The sun has set and the moon risen. With no light other than that of the moon, I voyaged to the edge of the water, down the hill, and watched. Some sort of bright luminescence, close to the color of tonight’s moon, and close to the size of tonight’s sighting of Jupiter. But it appeared near the moon. Very near. And then traveled quickly away, taking maybe ten minutes, traveling near the horizon opposite me, and getting much smaller on the way. Until it disappeared. I sang a song I made up as I went, to the moon, about how little we really are, and no one would actually care if anyone else died, but no two people are alike, yet none are different.

I wish I had brought something to write (the song) on, but I didn’t so it’s just the same. The reflection of the moon moves silently with the incoming marsh. I watched the height while it raised two feet. The ducks called out in response to my song. I wonder who else heard.

Now time for a feast of cheese cubes, Ritz crackers, and celery sticks. Carrots too.

Dark of night. No longer bright enough to cast shadows. I woke up to something approaching me in the darkness. I could hear it trudging over, then when it was close enough there were light moans. I couldn’t see, but I tried to make noise to get it away…I rummaged frantically for my headlamp, found it after a bit and drove it away. Now there’s something else.
20 minutes later
I’m back. And breathing heavy. It was a porcupine I think. The whole time. I talked to him. Told him I needed to sleep. Broke down a tree. Ran him off. It’s cold out. I was shivering. I’m sitting here in my tarp tent. I just want to sleep. I have no idea what time it is. The sounds get amplified here in the woods.”

(Saturday)

“When I look up a little bit I see red oak leaves. I heard a squirrel up in the branches, so I turned around. My squirrel was black and white and right above my head. He began pecking away madly at a branch. His beak was about as long as his head, feathers gleaming like snow in the sunlight. My squirrel was a hairy woodpecker. Here comes some white breasted nuthatches. They’re beautiful.

The reflection of the trees on the glassy water is just that. An identical reflection. Am I the reflection of something? What is “REAL” anyways?!”

(Sunday)

“Final day. Sunrise.
The cut down south-west looks as it did last night, at sunset, but above the trees across me are not grey/blue/purple. But yellow, leaking slowly into a misty blue overhead. The marsh is close to high tide. Not like yesterday morning, it’s already receded a few feet, but it’s close. There’s a thick layer of mist covering the whole thing. I tried to take pictures, but cameras are so innacurate at capturing what the eye can. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Maybe I’m not really seeing what’s there…creepy…anywhoo. It’s stunning. The mist moves with the flow of the water, which is slightly circular in nature. A large black bird flew by. Soundless. Smelless. If I hadn’t been down there at that moment, I would have missed him.

Oh! I just heard a squirrel trampling through leaves and it reminded me. Last night, I had a squirrel making noises, and trampling around and squeaking – talking rather – in the back door I made of balsam fir and white pine branches. I woke up once more to squirrels, but that’s probably just because I’m not used to getting so much sleep as I have been out here – going to bed and rising almost at the same time as the sun. It’s a genuine experience.”

- MJ (Maggy) Johnson, Portland ME

We’ve got a double feature for you this week, folks! Artist profiles of two of our very own: Abigail Taubman and Maggie Rosenberg. These city girls (both hail from the Big Apple) see the flora and fauna on Chewonki through an artist’s lens. I sat down with each artist to learn about their past experiences and what inspires their work in Art and the Natural World here at Chewonki.

Byron in pen and ink by Maggie Rosenberg

At home, Maggie takes art classes both at her school and at Parsons, The New School for Design. She has found that art at Chewonki strikes the middle ground between her art worlds at home. Parsons, she says, is a more strict environment where her instructors focus on technique, while her art teacher at school is more open to experimentation and expression. Maggie likes that her assignments at Chewonki are nicely structured, but also leave room for each student to make decisions about the scope, design, and media used to complete projects.

Above is Maggie’s illustration of Byron the Barred owl, a member of Chewonki’s Traveling Natural History team. It is not every day that a wild animal visits your classroom and poses quietly and courteously for you. Maggie admits that when it comes to subject matter, she often stays within her comfort zone, “All of those feathers were intimidating! I like to draw people. Faces have such interesting shapes, and I understand emotions in humans better than in animals.” Despite her initial hesitation, it looks like she rose to the challenge with grace. Not only was she faced with unfamiliar subject matter, she experimented with media. She started with pen and ink and then added water to make an ink wash. When I asked if this method was a new favorite, she explained that she does not lean one way or another, “I don’t really have a favorite. If you stick to one medium, you don’t know what’s out there. You limit yourself.” Maggie employs pencil, ink, graphite, charcoal, acrylic and oil paints in her work.

Students in Art and the Natural World have began an extended independent project of their own design. Maggie’s eyes lit up when I asked what her proposal for her project was. Her focus will be on the relationship between domesticated animals and their wild relatives. She will illustrate pairs of animals, including a farm-raised pig and a wild boar, and a milk cow and a bison. She will extend the comparison to humans by depicting modern day humans with their historical relatives, chimpanzees. “By creating the word ‘wild’ and giving it meaning, humans have decided what is wild and what is civilized. We tend to think of farm animals as ‘more human’ than their wild counterparts, but we forget that our livestock descended from wild ancestors. We think of ourselves as civilized. Most humans don’t regularly think about our evolution from the “wild,” and some humans don’t believe it. I am so excited about this project!”

_______________________________________________________________

Rainbow Chard Watercolor by Abigail Taubman

Abigail has always really liked crafty things, but she started taking art classes in middle school. Her first class was photography. She admits that in the beginning, she signed up because her friends were taking it, but has kept with it. Over the years she fell more and more in love with photography and has regularly taken two photo classes at a time. When I asked her what her favorite subjects were, she said, “Always people. I can create the interaction. There is more for the viewer to do when it’s a person because they can interpret what the subject is thinking.”

Last summer, Abigail traveled to Ireland with her camera to take part in “Art on the Farm,” a summer 3-week course at Cowhouse Studios. A sampling of her prints can be found on the Cowhouse website. Abigail is loyal to film cameras, rather than digital. She is eager to explore the possibilities in printing, “I met an artist at the Common Ground Fair who was working with tin types. I want to get into more alternative process photography.”

Art at Chewonki provides an altogether new experience for Abigail. She is excited to develop her drawing skills and get into different media. For the most part, students decide what media they will use for their assignments and projects. So far this semester students have been exposed to pencil drawing, watercolor, charcoal, pen and ink, and printmaking.

Above, Abigail displays her watercolor of a rainbow chard. It is no surprise that Abigail enjoyed the assignment, if only for the time spent at the farm. Abigail loves the farm. She loves the nature of the work, especially “the cycles large and small, the tangible results after starting something and finishing it, and the satisfaction of seeing the fruit of your labor.”

Although she dabbled in watercolor at Cowhouse, this rainbow chard is Abigail’s first work solely in watercolor. She remarks that although others get frustrated by the medium, she enjoys it, “I like watercolors because it’s easy to layer and correct mistakes. It’s flexible and forgiving.”

What is next in art for Abigail? She is excited to start block printing. Her design depicts a bird flying down low across the water.

It is hard to believe that we are already at the midpoint of the semester! Students retreated up to the north woods of Maine for an outdoor leadership program last week. They spent some time in the woods on an afternoon solo, not only to try it out before their 3-day solo in November, but also to get a chance to catch their breath, reflect, and look ahead. Will used his time to write in his journal and has shared a few excerpts.

4^th Debsconeag, October 19-23

It’s funny how time can fly by. It’s like I just got to Chewonki. The first half of my semester flashed by, and now here I am, sitting next to a stream near 4^th Debsconeag Lake in the north woods of Maine. It’s kind of rainy and dreary, but this place is cool. Canoeing was nice yesterday. The lake was so placid, like a mirror. It’s already getting chilly – close to my normal winter, ha. (Editor’s note: like myself, Will is from North Carolina. We are bracing ourselves for shorter days and colder nights!)

As I sit here listening to the soothing din of the stream on my afternoon solo, I realize that even though I will soon be back at Chewonki studying or building something for math, I don’t have to think about the next species quiz or history essay right now. I have time to reflect over wilderness trips, hikes, my friends, my life, and myself. It’s nice to step back and think, even at Chewonki. This time off has given every student a chance to reflect over some of the greatest experiences ever.

Two months may not seem like so much, but this the Chewonki time zone. In the span of about two months I have learned so much about school, learning, nature, camping, and myself. I will try not to take the rest of my time here for granted. This is a wonderful gift with amazing people and it will be gone too quickly.

- Will Godsey, Charlotte NC

In a few short hours, students will return from their “outdoor leadership retreat” at Chewonki’s Fourth Debsconeag Lake girls’ summer camp facility.  Located approximately 4.5 hours north, this gorgeous, remote site was intentionally chosen as a venue for our students to practice their leadership skills and reflect on their time here now that we are at the midpoint of our journey together.  

While faculty remained on campus to compile midterm grades and narrative reports, students have been living in yurts, hiking through mossy woods up to incredible viewpoints of the north woods lakes and peaks, and hopefully, weather permitting, canoeing and sailing on stunning Fourth Debsconeag Lake.  In addition, they have been working in small groups on service projects to help close down the girls’ camp for the winter, giving them opportunities to take initiative, problem solve and get to know one another more deeply.

During a mini-solo experience students will have had an opportunity to get comfortable with the idea of being alone in the woods for a few hours as a practice for our more extended solos, which occur November 4-6 on Chewonki Neck.  Solos provide an intensely meaningful way for our students to reflect on their experiences here and get to know themselves in often profound ways.  Through their mini-solos at Debsconeag and other sessions during the next week, students will gain the appropriate skills and framework to prepare them for this unique experience.   We are so excited to hear about their adventure together when they roll back onto campus this afternoon, and we’ll make sure to get a student’s perspective posted so you can hear about it, as well!!

Abby Burbank, Chewonki Girls Camp Director, has been documenting the Outdoor Leadership Program at 4th Debsconeag Lake this weekend. Check out the photos on the Girls Camp blog: Drizzly Day at Debsconeag. Thanks Abby!

So far this semester all of the French students have been learning about the history of French in North America, and specifically in Maine. This culminated in a visit to a Franco-American community in Lewiston.  Every month the Franco-American Heritage Center hosts La Rencontre, a luncheon to speak French, share stories and enjoy cultural events.  After eating and talking in French, everyone watched two monologues performed by playwrite Grégoire Chabot and Marjolaine Whittlesey, the Semester School French teacher. Students share some reflections in French and English.

“It was interesting how it seemed to be a very tight knit community. People at my table talked to everyone who walked by, and they were all talking to each other about their families. Two of the men at my table kept trying to play tricks on each other through the whole meal, which was really funny.”

“Un homme près de moi m’a dit que quand il avait seize ans, il essayait d’apprendre l’anglais, et maintenant j’ai seize ans et j’essaye d’apprendre le français!”- Eliana Langer, New York NY

“I could actually see the culture, the language passed down through the generations, through the stories that I heard. For instance, when her daughter came to talk to the woman I was talking to, she spoke in English but understood all French, and is still trying to learn how to speak it. The part that shocked me the most was that they were all actively trying to bring back their heritage.”

“Quand Theresa parlait avec moi, c’etait très difficile pour moi de comprendre parce que le français qu’elle parle est un mélange de français et d’anglais. Elle a dit “ Toutes les personnes ici parle ça! Nous pouvons comprendre seulement l’un l’autre!” – Jessica Chen, Somers NY

“Il y avait aussi une femme qui parlait de la discrimination. Elle nous a dit qu’il  y a toujours beaucoup de discrimination. Par exemple, à Portland les gens dissent que Lewiston est “l’aisselle” (the armpit) du Maine, à cause des Franco-Americains qui y habitent.” - Bia Brigstocke, New York NY

“La fille d’une femme à notre table habite à Portland très près de moi! Ses enfants vont à l’école primaire où je suis allé quand j’étais petit.” – Tom Kiffney, Portland ME

“Quand cet homme était petit, les gens lui demandaient “est ce que vous êtes américain ou canadien?” et il ne savait pas. Il a dit que la langue a changé avec l’anglais, et lentement est devenue différente. Je pense que ça doit être une vie très seule. Pas vraiment canadien, pas vraiment français, et ne pas savoir si vous êtes un américain. Une vie très dure. Tout le monde parlait avec beaucoup de passion et d’enthousiasme. Je voudrais y retourner!” – Kate McNally, Deep River CT

“J’ai parlé avec une femme qui a 91 ans et qui s’appelle Cécilia. Elle m’a demandé si j’avais un “ami” français (a boyfriend). Puis, elle m’a dit qu’elle avait beaucoup d’amis quand elle était jeune. Elle a dit qu’elle dansait avec eux souvent !” - Dani Hupper, New York NY

The sailors leisurely left Ram Island in the late morning to make our way out to open ocean. Our destination was Seguin Island, a small land mass located 2.5 miles from the mouth of the Kennebeck River, home to the second oldest lighthouse in Maine. The wind was at our backs, the sun was shining in a cloudless sky, and we were making our way across a glassy sea. After a calm sail we unloaded into our dinghies and rowed to shore. We were welcomed to the island with smiles from the tenants. We walked a few of the small trails circulating the island in the gorgeous afternoon light. Some of us took photographs to document our journey, while others simply took in the surroundings and enjoyed the salty air. We cooked a delicious meal of savory mac and cheese. The night sky was possibly the clearest I had ever seen it and we spent the rest of the night learning about different constellations and looking out into the vast Milky Way and beyond. We finally turned in for the night, but not before a little acoustic guitar and harmonica session from our leaders Scott and Tom. As cliché as it sounds, it was truly a night to remember.

– Leo Turpan, East Hampton NY

After a long day of sea kayaking we approached our campsite in a small cove. As we turned in to the cove, we saw that our fifty-foot rocky climb to the site was covered with slippery seaweed. The thought of carrying our ten fully-loaded kayaks up the treacherous rocks to the sandy shore was daunting. Thirty minutes later, with a few cuts and scrapes, we arrived at our home for the night. The day had been challenging and tiresome, but it was rewarding to finally sit down, rest, and take in a beautiful Maine afternoon knowing that it was well deserved.

– Claire Manny, Millbrook NY

We approached the last stretch of our eight-hour day of canoeing with relief. A mile and a half didn’t usually take too long to paddle, and our campsite was waiting on the other side. This time, however, the circumstances were different. We crossed a lake against strong winds and four-foot swells. I was terrified that we would flip and lose our coolers, backpacks, and dry bags.

The first boats touched land in about two hours and I could see them hugging each other and cheering us on. I remember the look on everyone’s faces when we had all reached the shore: pure happiness. Looking back, we felt so connected as a group – it was the best moment of the entire trip.

– Allie Cullen, Schenectady NY

Waking up each morning at Chewonki’s Big Eddy campground to Ryan’s banjo got us pumped up and ready to hit the rapids.  On the first day of whitewater kayaking we learned to perform a wet exit and hold our paddles correctly, inching closer to becoming whitewater professionals. Over the course of the trip, foreign terms like “peeling out,” “ferrying,” and “rolling” became second nature to all of us.

On the second day we tackled “Horserace,” a gauntlet of five back-to-back rapids. The final rapid, called “The Stallion,” proved to be a fun challenge, pouring us through wave trains that sent water up to smack us in our faces. We paddled downstream into a cove and were rewarded with a spectacular view of the surrounding mountains and changing fall colors.

– Maddie Kay, Brunswick ME

Students embarked on week-long wilderness trips last week, venturing out to hike, canoe, whitewater kayak, sea kayak, and sail. Sasha shares her account of the journey across the Mahoosuc Notch, “the hardest mile of the AT.” Highlights from other wilderness trips are soon to come!

“I made another Notch in my belt and then got shot in the Arm.”
– Lazarus, AT through-hiker, upon completing the Mahoosuc Notch on the AT.

Our five-day escapade through the Appalachian Trail gave the word “accomplishment” a new, elevated meaning. Prior to our departure, fellow students (myself included) had underestimated the difficulty of what appeared to be a pretty benign trail. The nonchalant echoes of students saying, “it’s only five miles per day,” no longer hold validity for me or my fellow hikers.

Our first three days presented us with challenges that we met with grace, aside from the occasional fall, slip, or cry of hunger. The events of day four, however, still seem surreal. We tackled the hardest mile of the AT (note my use of newly acquired hiker lingo), the Mahoosuc Notch, under a constant downpour of rain.

How can I possibly describe The Notch?” Imagine innumerable amounts of rocks piled on top of each other in a perplexing and inconvenient way. The Notch is nature’s “obstacle course,” a convenient euphemism for this notoriously difficult mile. Nevertheless, we tackled it with enthusiasm.

We maintained a consistent line order throughout, taking a hand in front to hoist ourselves over boulders, and, in turn, offering a hand to support the person behind. We conquered the Notch mile in just under four hours, but it wasn’t over yet! The Mahoosuc Notch is followed by the Mahoosuc Arm, a steep rock face. The rain sent shallow rivers of water over the rock face. Our steps were slow and cautious, but we persevered!

Why I am sharing the most difficult part of the trip with you? Is it an effort to show off the hard work of my nine fellow hikers? Do I just like saying we successfully completed the hardest mile? Not quite. I believe that day was a testament to our strength as Chewonki semester students. Even a shot in the arm won’t hurt us.

- Sasha Stahl, New York NY

It’s a misty, humid evening here on Chewonki neck.  A light rain fell most of the day, inviting all of us to grab cups of tea while walking around campus in rubber boots and raingear.  This morning, a moose was spotted jogging through campus before darting back into the woods, reminding most of us that we are, indeed, somewhere different!

Tomorrow marks an important crossroads for semester 47, as we will have finished our first three weeks of class before embarking on our five-day wilderness trips Monday.  This week has been filled with preparations for our fall trips, and there’s a sense of excitement in the air on the part of students and faculty.   You see, just last week they had to decide between five exciting wilderness trips.  Led by Chewonki wilderness trip leaders and our semester school faculty, students will be taking off on Monday to diverse wildareas of Maine in order to immerse themselves in the natural world and develop an understanding of regional ecosystems, learn wilderness travel techniques, and physically challenge themselves.  The five trips include sailing, sea kayaking, canoeing, whitewater kayaking and backpacking.  Once trip groups were formed, leaders spent time with kids this week practicing their skills, from sailing out from our waterfront to learning to wet exit from a sea kayak.  Individual and group gear has been gathered, missing items loaned, and food packed.  We can’t wait to hear about their adventures and witness their strengthened friendships and self-confidence when they return!

Not only have students been working on their wilderness skills in anticipation of these trips, they have also been submitting substantial assignments to their teachers.  Preparing for math tests, US History and Literature and the Land essays and research proposals for the Environmental Issues class have filled their study hours to the brim this week.

Tomorrow we are thrilled to be taking the entire semester on a day trip to Monhegan Island in order to study the natural environment of this historic fishing enclave and get everyone out into the open ocean.   Witnessing bird migration, talking with lobster fishermen and learning how this year-round fishing village lives on limited natural resources will be fascinating for all of us.  On Saturday, we take off again for a day at the annual Common Ground Country Fair in Unity, Maine, where students will see local and organic agriculture and other sustainable living practices celebrated on a large scale.

Expect fun blog entries the first week of October as students report on their wilderness trip adventures!