Voice of the Rivers 2008

June 1. Clyde Carter.
It’s 4:30 a.m. when I wake by my internal alarm clock. For some reason I always tend to wake at least a half hour before the group. My mind reflects on the past several days while at the same time anticipates what we may encounter today.

Just before 5:00, I see one lone light illuminating one of the tents. Soon it is outside moving to the other tents. The light is Jenna’s headlamp, our designated “leader of the day”. She is waking our breakfast cooks. It’s hard to imagine that this is Jenna’s first camping trip.

Soon all the tents in our little tent city are glowing. A barred owl perches above our tent and calls “Who cooks for you? Who cooks for you?” A whippoorwill calls in the distance. The nocturnal creatures have not yet given over the night. Our group has decided that it is best to wake up in the dark and spend the cool early hours of morning paddling as many miles as possible before the day heats up.

As I make it over to the stoves, the coffee water is already going. In the early days of the expedition, if I wanted coffee, I would have to get the water going myself. The group has achieved what outdoor educators call the “performing stage” of group development. They no longer depend on Ken and I for direction in the day-to-day tasks. They know what needs to be done and the best way to do it.

Of course “performing” groups make deadlines, so we were on the river by 6:30. By 9:30 we were at Stokes Bluff Landing, 14 miles down river. The day before we met Kenny Dugger who told us we could get water at his house at Stokes Bluff. After a bit of hunting, we found Kenny’s house and filled our water bottles.

As we were departing Stokes Bluff the students casually said hi to a couple of people on the bank. I was at the end of the group and by the time I got to the men, one began to share his connection to the river. By this time the group was in the current and was 100 yards down stream. The man was Norman Turner. He began to tell me how eight generations ago his family, who were Lutherans, were kicked out of Salzburg Austria by the Catholics. Great Britain paid them to sail to the Savannah River and help colonize what is now Georgia. This was primarily to keep the Spaniards from advancing up from Saint Augustine. They settled on Ebenezer Creek in 1734. The creek is just ten miles down stream.

I kept looking over my shoulder as the group drifted down stream but could not break myself from the conversation.

Norman said his family built a church 1769 that still stands in Ebenezer. “Its one of the oldest buildings in Georgia.” He said. “You should stop and visit!”

I wanted to stay and talk to Norman for several hours, but by this time the group was out of sight. I bid farewell to Norman and took off as fast as I could to catch the group. We won’t pass Ebenezer until tomorrow. I hope we have time to hunt for the Lutheran Church.

As we continued our float down stream I knew I was writing the blog tonight so I made it a point to paddle beside students one on one and ask them what they had been getting out of the trip. The answers were amazing. Some themes that came up repeatedly were “perspective on life, a renewed faith in humankind, new friendships, perseverance, patience, an understanding of group dynamics and leadership, a connection with the river and nature”. In my conversation with Margaret Ann, she said something that stuck with me the rest of the afternoon. She said she “didn’t learn these things, they were instilled.” As a professor of Experiential Education at a liberal arts college, I couldn’t hope for much more.

By early afternoon we had made our destination for camp. At the first sand bar there were about 30 boats and 150 people enjoying the Sunday afternoon. We continued our float down stream to find a more secluded place. After several bends in the river we found a suitable sand bar. We set camp in the heat of the day, and spent the rest of the day swimming and relaxing.

Not a bad day.