We Built a Raft!
What constitutes authenticity? Sometimes, the authentic need to know is simply that we need to know OUR STUDENTS. For this reason, we choose to start the year having our students write narratives that they share aloud with our classroom community.
In keeping with the Environmental Studies themes upon which our Global Science Perspectives course is built, our students are writing personal nature narratives. We have asked them to consider the ways that they have been impacted by nature in their lives and to carefully choose a story to tell. I wrote this piece as a model for them. In the coming weeks, I will share some of their narratives.
"We Built a Raft"
“What’s the best way to get from here….to there…?” asked Lidds, tracing a calloused finger over a topo map. It was late at night after a staff meeting. He paused to spit tobacco juice into a coffee cup.
“Straight line, that’s how!” exclaimed Rich in his trademark squeaky soprano voice, taking the cup himself and spitting. Recalling my own brief experimentation with chewing tobacco, my stomach churned as I peered over their shoulder and tried not to appear too green-- green with inexperience, that is.
“Are you thinking…?” Lidds’ eyes widened and his jaw slackened, an image taking hold in his mind.
“That’s what I’m thinking!” replied Rich with an elven twinkle in his eye.
I couldn’t believe the audacity of the plan. It seemed certifiably crazy. I wanted in.
In 1988, I was 14 years old and trying my best to learn to become a camp counselor at Camp Palawopec in Brown County, Indiana. Having not yet earned my stripes, I still carried the designation of counselor-in-training (C.I.T.,) which meant building the daily campfires, cleaning outhouses, and mopping the dining hall. We astutely and longingly observed the Senior Staff members and dreamed of the days we would be trusted with real responsibilities.
As C.I.T.s we were included in the out-of-camp adventures. For most of us, these were the highlights of camp for many reasons, not the least of which being the reprieve from some of our in-camp duties.
We were heading out on a Foxfire, a three-day backpacking loop. No backtracking allowed. Having no set route, each Foxfire is unique, and this route offered a large geographical obstacle right in the middle of it called Lake Monroe.
Lidds and Rich’s plan was to first lead our group to the southern shore of Lake Monroe by day 2. We would then construct a raft out of driftwood and use it to transport our gear across the lake, propelling it collectively with power from our legs.
What could go wrong?
Rain drizzled the whole first day as we trudged through the low-lying “backwaters” of the lake. That evening, I was elated to prove my worth by finding enough dry Sassafras twigs to kindle a flame, over which we cooked a ten-pound ham in a tin. The salty meat seemed to give us courage to tackle the challenge ahead.
We reached the southern shore of the lake late the next morning, right on schedule. Sunshine was resplendent and the mood was high. Though I harbored some doubt, I concealed it; the campers seemed blissfully ignorant of the risks involved and I wasn’t going to be the one to kill the group’s otherwise upbeat morale. Lidds and Rich started directing the gathering of driftwood for a raft. Wading into the muck in bare feet and stripped down to underwear, we all reached down and extracted long lengths of lily pad stems, slimy to the touch, for the lashing of our raft. Was this really going to work?
For three hours, we aligned hefty, sun-bleached logs and lashed them together with the stems. I couldn’t believe it, but sure enough, the raft was taking shape. Approximately ten feet square, the raft was surprisingly sturdy, thanks to lots of lashing.
It was time to test the structure. Together the twelve young men carried the craft to the edge of the lake and lowered it. Success! We whooped and cheered at having passed this first test.
Next: we loaded the packs on the raft. Averaging 30 pounds per pack, the raft would need to support around 400 pounds of weight. If it didn’t, our packs would be afloat on the lake, or worse-- at the bottom.
One by one, we loaded packs and watched with bated breath as the raft held, sinking a bit lower with each one, but maintaining buoyancy.
“WE BUILT A RAFT!!!!” Our battle cry. We shouted it out for the world to hear, even though there was literally no one within earshot for miles.
Ready to launch and still down to underwear, we inched gingerly over slippery rocks into the lake. By mid-afternoon the sun and heat was relentless, so we were all more than happy with the prospect of swimming instead of backpacking. This gamble, if it worked, would save a whole day of backpacking. If it failed, our packs would surely sink and become wreckage on the bottom of the lake.
Our band of 12 shoved the raft out into the body of the lake; allowing a few seconds to confirm its seaworthiness. Still looking good. Once again we exclaimed in unison: “WE….. BUILT….. A……RAFT!”
And so we embarked, propelling the craft northward on the water. The raft bore the weight of its load and we flutter-kicked at a slow crawl towards the opposite shore. Lake conditions were favorable, with mostly still water and a breeze that neither helped nor hindered our progress. Minnows nibbled on our nipples as we swam, provoking surprised barks of profanity from the nibbled.
We progressed inchwise across the lake. The driftwood platform of the rack sagged slightly and our packs did not stay completely dry, at least not those at the bottom of the heap, but after two hours of flutter kicking ….
WE MADE IT! On the other end, we collapsed on the muddy northern bank. We allowed our legs to breathe and our undies to dry as we basked in our accomplishment. The audacity of the plan made success all the more sweet.
We built a raft from nothing but found, natural materials and powered it for over a mile (or, at least, far enough for Lidds to justify awarding Mile Swim badges.) In doing so, we challenged the notion of how one can get from point A to point B. It wasn’t without risk, but we would be arriving at our meetup location at the fire tower in time to grab a nap in the shade. WE BUILT A RAFT! That much is clear, but it wasn’t all we built: we built belief. Many times since this day I’ve thought a plan was too audacious to attempt. We built confidence. We didn’t know the plan would work but were confident that even if it didn’t, we would be OK. We built culture. Ties that bind. We never faced imminent danger, but we did face the unknown. Experiences like these are what forge individuals into a team. Lidds and Rich showed us the beauty of a plan that seemed so crazy that we had to give it a shot. I’m so glad we did.