NHESP 2011 Update 11 - final update

The Final Update

Greetings all! I am afraid that this is the final time you will be hearing from our amazing, little community. However, be assured that we have been a happy bunch over the past couple of weeks since the end of our last expedition. Our time has been spent in a flurry of conclusions—the spirited, whole-hearted effort to complete our semester book; the finalizing of the rocket stove’s structure; the closing of our big jobs; and our last Spanish and permacultura (the concept of living a life centered around caring for yourself, the earth, and the community at large) classes. The results entail a joyful, grounded community, a beautiful semester book, a working stove, our increased expertise in permacultura, and a satisfied feeling regarding what we have learned about the Spanish language over the course of the semester.

            Furthermore, we voyaged to Quito one night to watch a play that Marcela recently produced, not only to support her but also to get an idea of what putting on a theatrical performance is like; to get a bearing on what we might want to include in our own performance not long after. The play, though not all of us understood it in its entirety as it was completely in Spanish, focused on the importance of water throughout Ecuador. A remarkable aspect of this particular play was that all the actors had special needs, and Marcela had been working with them for weeks to enrich their lives through the beauty of theater.

            Just two days ago, we had the slightly overwhelming experience of taking part in the largest market in South America: Otovalo. After a two-hour long bus ride, for which most of us stood the majority of the way, we were able to brandish our bargaining skills. Equipped with the Spanish that we had learned throughout the semester, we were each able to purchase many a beautiful gifts for our loved ones as well as a few goodies for ourselves. And now we know that everything in Otovalo is composed entirely of “baby alpaca” (or so the vendors claimed).

            Although our spirits have been soaring these past two weeks, the general health of the group sunk to new lows. Sadly, our band of Krokans was struck by a stomach bug, which resulted in all but three of us spending a night vomiting (certainly quite the scene). Thankfully, most of us are in far better health now and are looking forward to the long day of rest and rejuvenation that the plane ride will provide for us during our voyage to New Hampshire.

            On a different, much lighter note, yesterday was our first of two graduations—a most beautiful, heartwarming celebration of our time here. Everyone whom we had met throughout the semester attended: our families from San Clemente, teachers we had learned from, the farm workers at Palugo, a friend or two from Shiwacotcha, Francisco and Adela, and various friends and guests alike made the journey to our lovely little chozon to celebrate with us all that we have accomplished during our time here. In preparation of such a worthy occasion, we had purchased two sheep to provide us with plenty of meat for the amount of guests we were expecting. A day before our graduation, we slaughtered both and roasted them on a spit over an open fire until cooked to perfection—quite the treat.

            In addition to the sheep, we had an ample amount of papas, mote, and ensalada, and we were also gifted by the people of San Clemente with a wide variety of native fruits and the sweet delight of homemade breads. The presentation of the food gifts took the form of song and dance led by the people of San Clemente. The men wore masks and traditional chaps made of the fibrous hide of alpaca and lama while they filled the air with the music of guitar, fiddle, various drums, and voices—a fantastical performance to witness.

            After eating a hearty lunch, complete with a wide array of desserts, most of which were created by our dear Adela, we performed for our guests our graduation presentation, an exhibition of all that we have learned and achieved throughout the semester. We dressed in our graduation shirts, which we had embroidered a month prior in San Clemente and illustrated an experience that is impossible to capture in words. For the past few days leading up to our graduation, we had worked with Marcela, theater producer extraordinaire, to put into motions and song the entirety of our semester. Although I do not want to give away any of our presentation to all of you fine folks who might come and see it, I will say that it was a success at our graduation, and we can barely wait to share it with you all.

            In just a solitary day, we will return to New Hampshire. In just a day, we will leave behind the icy comfort of the glacial mountains that greet us each dawn, the spiked spines of the century plant, the solemn wisdom of the eucalyptus trees that surround Palugo. In just a day, we will be plunged headfirst into the intensity of the New Hampshire winter and then back into the differing lifestyles that exist at our homes. However sad it is to part with those whom we have loved and appreciated for the past four months, those whom we have biked great distances with, sang with each day, shared giggles of joy and tears of exasperation, traveled great distances with both physically and within our hearts—in light of each and every connection we have made with one another and the love we have shared, parting from one another will be a difficult task. Yet, it is simply a chance for a new door to be opened, a new chapter to begin in our lives. We now have the opportunity to take what we have learned, reap the benefits of how we have grown as individuals, and go back into our worlds anew: complete, grounded, changed. And we can do so knowing that we are never entirely alone, that we are always loved, that we will never cease being a true, beautiful community.

            ¡Bien viyhay toros!

I have opened up, and everything, my thoughts, fears, dreams have come rushing out.—Zoe

Nothing belongs solely to us. Everything is borrowed. Only our thoughts belong to us and they are not just our own.—Robert

I have pushed my body and mind to new limits. I have seen landscapes and wonders I never thought I’d see and have had adventures I never thought I’d experience. So many childhood dreams have come to life on this semester.—Clayton

It is a beautiful thing to be able to say that you have gone so far, worked so hard, loved a community of people so fully, and lived this life so completely joyfully.—Nelly

I feel accomplished and satisfied. I’ve learned how to be part of such a close-knit community, I’ve learned how to be a leader, how to work hard and how to live an incredible adventure. I will miss this place with all my heart, but I am ready to go home.—Kestrel

People may ask me what the NH-Ecuador Semester was like, and I could tell them about the birds in the jungle, the trekking through the paramo, the exhilaration of getting to the top of Cotopaxi, but that would not explain the deep connection I have made to the land, to the strong community around me; to a whole different way of life that cannot be explained.—Isabelle

I have had such an amazing time here at Kroka and have done things that most people have and never will get the opportunity to do. I appreciate every moment of it.—Noah

Goodbye, Ecuador. Your hard eyes have touched my soul. You’ve taught me to swim with the tides of time, shown me journeys are finite, but cycle like the sun and the moon. Today, I greet winter. Tomorrow, I greet you again.—Hytham

A short burst of love, life, and pure happiness can last awhile, perhaps a lifetime. We can’t be sad that the end is here. We can only take what we’ve learned together and make ourselves a new beginning.—Leah

How wonderful life is—all you have to do is walk around a corner to see something more beautiful, more incredible than what you left behind. And if you keep looking ahead, knowing that the dawn is coming, you can travel any distance.—Ezra

I have learned so much here, from the mountains, the sunrises, the communities we’ve visited; from the family we have become. We have lived life so fully, loved so deeply, and now my eyes have opened, my heart has opened, and I am filled with gratitude.—Hila

This amazing journey is coming to a close. It is time to wrap up the bundle and head home.—Leo

The sweet magnificence of the mountains, the gentle gleaming of the stars, the sway and rush of the wind—all of such pieces and parts of the earth have held me throughout my experience here, taught me what I needed to know about myself and the world around me. Through this support I was able to grow, to dig my roots down into myself, and spread my branches wide toward the never-ending sky. And, most importantly, as I grew within myself, I grew part of the most beautiful, amazing thing I could ever ask for in life: I grew part of a community.—Aster

NHESP 2011 Update 10

The mountains!

Quote of the week: “We made it! We all made it!”

¡Buenos días! Although I started writing this update whilst snuggled in the foothills of giant Cotopaxi, I now finish it at our warm home here in Palugo. However, rewinding a bit to so as to recount the past two weeks and our final adventure together, I will commence this update by saying that we all departed from Palugo on November 11—mountain-bound and giddy with the prospect of travel. Although it rained for the latter part of the day (a tradition of our group it seems), we enjoyed a treat toward the end of our rain-soaked journey: three liters of warm, fresh milk. As we had no conventional manner with which to compensate the kind and slightly surprised dairy farmers who we had stumbled on, we each traded them one square of the chocolate bar we had been given to last us through the expedition—a worthy and much appreciated trade.

            After drinking our fill of milk, we continued on our way, finally coming to rest for the evening in a small valley nestled in the heart of the mountains with the cool rush of a river by its side. We set up a tarp for sleeping and began dinner preparations just as the sun was bidding farewell behind the solemn mountaintops. That night, in spite of wet, icy feet and tired bodies, we were consumed with happiness over the start of a new adventure; singing to welcome the cool, starlit night and to bless the first meal of our journey.

            The following morning, after packing our temporary home into our backpacks, we realized that the only way to start our day’s trek was to cross the river whose waters were swollen with the previous day’s rain. Although many of us were able to cross it without a problem or were blessed with the magic of rubber boots, others, myself included, were not as lucky and, for the rest of the day, had our very own rivers lining the bottom of our mountaineering boots. However, we set off into the mountains, climbing up and up into the sturdy, sparse plants of the paramo (steppe); abandoning the strong eucalyptus and wise pines for hearty wildflowers and tufts of paramo grass.

            As the day wore on, to our disappointment, the first chilling raindrops began to fall. A storm came on us whose strength was such that we were forced to set up a tarp just to eat lunch. Furthermore, our next camping destination was still some distance away, and thus we were faced with a tough decision: turn back and camp under the shelter of the trees we had passed hours ago or continue on and make camp in the dark? After much discussion (something our group is very good at) while finishing our last bits of Isa’s delicious sourdough bread, we decided to find a middle ground, so to speak, and trek as far as we could toward our desired campsite of the night, and should it grow too late to reach the lake at which were supposed to camp, we would drop down into one of the valleys along the way and spend the night there. To our chagrin, this plan turned into a push all the way to lake; navigating through the night with the wind whipping around our bodies as we traveled up and down the rocky rises and dips of the ridge that would eventually bring us to our next home.

           
      We made camp at eleven o’clock that night after facing one of the most difficult experiences on the paramo in the semester. Nevertheless, we rose early the next day and set out to spend the day trekking once more; each day bringing us closer and closer to our goal: Antisana (the fourth highest volcano in Ecuador at 18,875 feet). That day, we were again graced with the peculiar weather patterns of the paramo: a beautiful morning beneath the sun’s revitalizing rays followed by an afternoon of precipitation. This particular day our afternoon precipitation consisted of thunder and lightening so intense and so close to where we were that we were forced into the lightening pose; all of us spread out, huddling close to our backpacks as it began to hail. Thankfully, the lightening did not last long, and we were able to continue on our way; the hail slowly switching to soft, fluffy snowflakes that clung to our hair and clothing as we traveled on.

            That night we were once more faced with the decision of pushing on or making camp early and, because of the challenge of the previous night, we decided to camp high up in the mountains, clearing an area of snow to set up our tarp and enjoying a dinner of hot, buttery soup that would keep us warm through the cold night ahead. The following morning, Ezra, Clayton, Robert, and I all experienced the punishment for wet mountaineering boots—our boots had frozen stiff during the cold night. We forced our boots onto our cold feet and set off for our final day of trekking toward Antisana, energizing our bodies for the journey ahead with flat bread that Clayton and Hytham had been kind enough to make the previous night.

            We reached the base of Antisana around noon, each of us reveling in the sheer magnificence of the mountain—the icy white of its glacier stretching for miles upward, touching the sky at its very tip, the rocky moraine of its center, and the tough grasses of its roots, which is where we established our base camp. We spent the remainder of the day making a home for ourselves at Antisana’s base, complete with a tent for all of our new mountaineering gear (crampons, gators, helmets, ice axes, and harnesses) as well as a chozon in which a stove was installed, a luxury we certainly all appreciated. After creating our home, we were given the mountaineering gear we would be using for glacier school the following day, each of us acquiring a set of crampons, three carabineers (one locking, two non-locking), a climbing harness, a helmet, an ice axe, and a pair of gators. Along with all of our exciting new gear, we had a new addition to our group, David, a friend of Marcea and Thomas’s and fellow mountaineer who would be teaching us how to properly use our gear and navigate the glacier.

            The next morning we voyaged up the mountain to attend glacier school, learning how to use all the fancy new gear we had received the previous day. We set up moraine camp about an hour’s walk from the glacier’s tip and, after securing our tents, departed for the glacier. That day we learned the various steps one must use when equipped with crampons: the ducky (with feet turned out), the side step, the French style (side stepping while crossing one foot over the other), the half-ducky (with one foot pointed out), and front-pointing (the manner in which one maneuvers up a vertical, only using the front few points of the crampons).We spent the day digging the points of our crampons into the ice of the glacier; even dancing in our crampons, as instructed by David, so as to become completely confident in our crampons. By the day’s end, we were so enchanted and in love with all that is possible on the glacier that we thoroughly looked forward to Cotopaxi.

            The following day we rose early for another day of fun on the glacier. The focus of this day was learning how to be properly roped in and maneuver in a rope team, a skill that we would need for our climb up Cotopaxi. We used all the various knots we had learned throughout the semester—the fisherman, the prussic, the Munter hitch, and others—so as to properly secure ourselves to our harnesses as well as to our friends who would be climbing with us. In addition, we learned how to self-arrest, which is the technique of being able to stop oneself from sliding down a glacier by thrusting one’s ice axe into the ice. It can also be used to save an entire rope team should someone fall into a crevasse. As serious of a technique as self-arresting is, learning it was the part of glacier school we all enjoyed the most: throwing ourselves down the glacier on our bellies and backs, headfirst and feet-first and then jamming the point of the ice axe into the snowpack over and over again.

            We concluded our time on Antisana’s glacier by voyaging partially up the mountain, each of us connected in groups of three or four in a rope team. We traveled up the glacier’s icy expanse, stomping our crampons into the ice with each step while our confidence and love of ice climbing soared. Eventually however, we had to set off down the mountain to pack up camp, picking our through the unstable rock and rich volcanic sand of the moraine. After once more packing our home into our packs, we departed from moraine camp to spend another two nights at base camp, resting and rejuvenating our minds and bodies from the previous week and preparing ourselves for our group solo and the road ahead.

            Soon we were on our way once more on our group solo: a strong, powerful community facing the intensity of the paramo together as one. The following three days we took it easy, trekking each day, yet having time to absorb the day as well as the time spent with one another. We continued to set up a tarp each night, although we also had two tents in our possession, which led to a few nights with seven people crammed into a four-person tent—certainly cozy to say the least. During our solo, each of us stepped up as a community member, whether splitting wood with a machete, preparing dinner, digging a poop hole, or making sure the tarp setup was sturdy and comfortable. By the end of the group solo, we each knew what needed to be done to create not just a temporary dwelling for ourselves but a home.

            We rejoined with Thomas, Marcea, and David on the fourth day and continued on our way toward Cotopaxi, experiencing what it was like navigating through the colorful volcanic sand that makes up Cotopaxi’s roots. Up and down we went, ridge after never-ending ridge, sliding and sinking our way through sand and rock until finally reaching a suitable campsite for the night. How disconcerting it was, as many of us remarked, to be both sandy and icy simultaneously—reminiscent of the river trip, yet freezing rather than boiling.

            The following morning we set off again, sand in our boots and sleeping bags, but excited for the prospect of a short trek to Cara Sur. Cara Sur is a lodge owned by Shiram’s (a Kroka NHESP alumnus) father at the base of Cotopaxi. The lodge is complete with hot showers, a kitchen, bunk beds, and even a living room. We arrived to the warm hospitality of Cara Sur at noon, able to relax for a time after the intensity and constant movement of the past week or so, as well as prepare ourselves mentally for climbing up Cotopaxi the next night. In addition, we were delighted to enjoy a few meals that were not composed of quinoa, oatmeal, arroz de cebada, peanut butter and jam, or salami and cheese, which had been our staple foods throughout the expedition.

            Although we had planned to depart from Cara Sur at one o’clock the next day, once more the weather of the paramo frowned on us and hit Cotopaxi with a thunderstorm. This posed somewhat of a problem as we had originally decided to climb Cotopaxi a day early (that night). After much debate, we concluded that it was best to wait at the lodge the remainder of the day, rather than risk our gear getting soaked through, recharge ourselves a bit more, and depart for high camp and Cotopaxi the following day. Not only was the option better weather-wise, but it also gave us the long overdue opportunity to brush up on our cooking skills. David taught Zoe his grandmother’s method of perfectly popped popcorn; Kestrel provided us with warm, delicious tea throughout the course of the day; Hila and Leo worked hard to properly cut meat up for dinner; Leah aided Ezra in his caramelized cabbage; and, in the end, despite a delectable dinner, we were still hungry. And thus came second dinner—the brainchild of Noah, Hytham, and Ezra, who created a giant pot of mashed potatoes as well as some creamy quinoa. Finally, with sated appetites and satisfied bellies we went off to bed, which would be our last full night of sleep before the climb.

            The next morning our dear Thomas turned 31, which, as is customary for an event this special, was a call for more delicious food. Thanks to Adella, we were able to enjoy Thomas’s favorite breakfast treat: llapangachos, which are traditional Ecuadorian potato pancakes served with fresh, seasoned onions, tomatoes, and avocados. We followed up with a chocolate-beet birthday cake created by Hannah with a manjar (dulce de leche) and coconut frosting conjured up by our fantastic kitchen manager Isa. It was a birthday celebration we will never forget.

            At the conclusion of our breakfast feast and after some cleaning up of Cara Sur, we left for high camp at Cotopaxi. On our way up, we faced yet another snowstorm—the wind whipping snowflakes at our faces with such a force that our noses were nearly numb by the end of our journey to high camp. We ate an early dinner that night, prayed for the weather to clear, and headed off to bed to get what little sleep we could before departing for Cotopaxi at eleven o’clock that night.

            To our delight, the weather could not have been better: a clear sky shining with the energy of all the stars the night could offer us, lifting our spirits and hearts upwards as we ascended the peak. We split into rope teams with Thomas leading Nelly, Leah, and me; David with Noah, Hila, and Zoe; Hannah with Clayton and Hytham; Marcea with Kestrel, Isa, and Ezra; and Roberto with Robert and Leo. Never before throughout the entirety of the semester had we experienced something quite as intense, as powerful as the climb up Cotopaxi—pushing our bodies past feelings of fatigue and exhaustion to another place. It was a place in which we could revel in the sunrise of blue, gold, and pink as we rested for a moment on the mountainside, a place that we could enjoy and grow from the challenges that Cotopaxi offered us both physically and mentally. In the end, we all made it the top of Cotopaxi, a feat that we had been dreaming of since the start of the semester. We are each thankful for every previous semester, paving the way and thus allowing us to finally be the first semester to have every single member of our amazing, beautiful community to summit Cotopaxi.

            As happy and in awe as we were of the entire climb, half of our journey was still not yet complete: We had to voyage back down the mountain. Quickly, as to avoid the sun’s capacity to melt the ice and snow, we shimmied back into our harnesses, roped ourselves in, picked up our ice axes and proceeded to complete our Cotopaxi climb. However, descending Cotopaxi was harder than we had imagined, for with each few steps, large snowballs accumulated in our crampons, consequently causing us to repeatedly having to smack the snow out of our crampons with our ice axes. This resulted in a lot of slipping, sliding, and falling down in the snow on our part, though, luckily, as annoying and troublesome as the snowball-crampons were, everyone arrived at the glacier’s end safely and happily—a journey completed; a journey completed together.

            Although we were done with the actual summiting of Cotopaxi, on our return to high camp, there was still quite a bit of work to be done. Clayton and Leo spearheaded the collection and organization of everyone’s mountaineering gear while Ezra, Zoe, Hila, Leah, and Kestrel took down the tents, and Isa attended to the dirty dishes left over from our midnight breakfast. Normally, such tasks would not have been too difficult, but running on about three hours of sleep and after having climbed a mountain, all of us were a bit out of it with exhaustion. Eventually, high camp was deconstructed, and we made our way back to Cara Sur and, from there, back to Palugo.

            The mountain expedition . . . there are, in many ways, no sufficient words or means of describing such a powerful, crazy, beautiful experience. Through it, we each came closer to ourselves, growing as individuals; we came closer to each other, growing as a community. Now being back at Palugo, there is a certain groundedness, a centered feeling to our lives that was not there before and had only been birthed as a result of the challenges faced throughout our last expedition together as a group. We now know what each of us is capable of, our weaknesses and strengths, and we used both to do something great—something that had existed previously only in our dreams: summit a mountain. To quote Hytham “when you reach the top of a mountain, so much more is visible than it was before; so many doors are opened.”

Antisana Poem

 by Leo

Right in the midst of this arid grassland,

A mountain that’s covered in glacier stands.

The ice and the snow make up beautiful form.

I know underneath them it is so very warm.

And thus are my thoughts as I climb the ice higher,

That not far below me lies a pit full of fire.

Oh what a contrast, between unbearable cold, and fiery heat, of which cannot be told.

It’s a powerful Goddess, who’s slumber is deep.

                                              But low and behold if she wakes from her sleep.

Candid and not so candid photos of the effects of mountain living: 

Messages:

To any Schnetzels it may concern: You are more than welcome to come to graduation. I would be honored and excited to see you.—Nelly

Hey it’s Isabelle,

Hope everything is well. If you get the chance to write a letter, could you please tell me how Fiona is doing? She has been in my thoughts the last couple of days. Thanks.—Isabelle

NHESP 2011 Update 9

Quote of the week: “I am here for the mountains, for rivers, for beauty, and for glory. I have learned, I have grown, I have cried, I have smiled, and my journey will never be done.”—Kestrel Kunz

Happy Day of the Dead weekend everyone! Although our band of travelers is currently stationary for several days, our time has been one full of excitement and vision. After a much needed day of rest and gear maintenance, we have gotten back into our routine of exercising each morning—rising with the sun to run along the cobblestone roads of Palugo or enjoying a relaxing yet strenuous hour of yoga taught by Nicole—and doing our pie-time chores. It was a rhythm that we missed while on the move for the previous month. In addition, we have also been spending quite a bit of our time and energy on making our semester book into a beautiful and useful resource—a true image of our community.

            Throughout the entirety of the day leading up to Halloween, we showed our appreciation to the hospitality and beauty of Palugo by working in a minga (a community work-gang project supported by endless food and water so as to be properly fueled to complete the task at hand). Our task was to plant a variety of native trees (one hundred and thirty of them to be exact) all around Palugo in an effort to reintroduce the native tree species to the highlands.

            The main source of lumber in the Ecuadorian highlands is the eucalyptus tree. In spite of the fact that its wood is of a high quality for both burning and construction, it is an invasive species originally brought from Australia and has become a pest in the sense that it grows everywhere and will reproduce at a rate that native tree species cannot compete with. At the conclusion of the day, we had planted more than a hundred trees, and feeling accomplished in our bodies, minds, and hearts, we headed back to the chozon to commence our Halloween celebration.

            Although many of you may have been trick-or-treating on Halloween night, here at Palugo we had an equally thrilling (and chilling) time this Halloween. Although we were without the materials one normally would use to craft a Halloween costume, that did not stop us from transforming ourselves into a wide array of characters for this most special of celebrations. Nelly proudly became Bilbo Baggins; Hytham stood tall as Cotopaxi; Leo conjured up a few throwing stars for his ninja alter ego; Zoe painted on a mask of charcoal and became a superhero; Clayton experimented with his southern accent as “Sheriff Yucca”; Isa wove together an impressive amount of clovers for her “Palugo vine” costume; Leah broke out all of her purple attire to become a grape; Kestrel meowed and growled her way through the night as a jungle cat; Robert assumed the position of being “just like the end of the world: all that hype and no follow-through”; Hila sported a head of vibrant blue yarn hair and became “blue”; Noah wore a cape and mask, fighting crime as “Captain Hammer”; Ezra wove thorns through his beard and wore a pair of decrepit shoes, claiming to be “Steve,” who had just found his way back from the base of Cotopaxi; and I was able to live my Halloween dream of becoming a faerie, even if my wings were constructed of broken-down Nestle boxes, some rejected semester book paper, and a whole lot of pastels. When Drago with his low-riding pants and bling (aka Thomas), Pam with his/her suspiciously low voice and unparalleled hairdo (Marcea), and Linessa la Princessa with her lovely grain-sack gown (Hannah) all made their wild entrance into our Halloween-ready chozon, we fell on our knees with laughter. Never before had we witnessed Thomas and Marcea’s infallible dedication to character; we even, dare I say, saw Thomas slouching during dinner.

            Not only did we create our costumes from scratch, but we also made for ourselves a feast fit for the spirit of the holiday. Using an adobe oven built by a previous semester student group, we created key lime and banana cream pies and a chocolate swirl cheesecake, all of which were made complete by a gazettas Maria (a sort of Ecuadorian graham cracker) crust, as well as chocolate sauce crafted by Noah, our resident sauce and aji connoisseur. If our desserts seem lacking in extravagance, our main course featured a variety of quiches—caramelized onion and mushroom, carne y queso, legumbres y queso, and more—as well as cheesy pasta with a cream sauce. We all worked together that day: Ezra and Leo leading the creation of the cheesecake, Zoe and myself gently combining all the ingredients for pies, and Isa making sure the quiches were all cooked to perfection. In the end, our Halloween at Palugo and the preparation thereof became a time we will never forget. After all, when else will we get the chance to hear Thomas rapping every sentence he spoke?

            Although the previous night had been filled with the sweet excitement of community and celebration, by noon the following day we would be in an entirely different place, a place of individual reverence and thought; we would be on our solos. We started the day with a pottery and ceramics class from Adella, molding the clay with our hands; using our fingers to create something completely our own and unique; all the gentle scents of earth and water wafting into our noses. By the class’s end, we had each formed an individual masterpiece, and we can barely wait to see how each piece looks after it is fired in the kiln.

            After eating lunch at Palugo, we each embarked on our own separate journeys, scattering across the land like raindrops to experience what it meant to truly be alone with oneself. Our solo consisted of a two-day fast; with the exception of water, nothing passed our mouths from noon the first day until noon on the third day. We spent a beautiful, sunshine-filled afternoon, full day, and morning as well as two much longer and colder nights entirely by ourselves; the warm embrace of nature being our only companion. It was an experience we all appreciated in its entirety with a power and meaning for each of us as individuals I cannot properly convey, for it meant something different to every one of us. I can say that we all pushed ourselves those two days, we all came to a deeper understanding of ourselves and of nature, and we all grew.

            On the day after our solo experience, we jumped headlong into a variety of projects that will help improve Palugo for future semester students. Leah, Hytham, Leo, Noah, and Robert are working to create a “rocket stove,” which is a special sort of stove whose efficiency greatly exceeds that which is currently installed in the chozon. It uses almost all of the heat created by the burning wood and also ensures completely clean combustion, thus lessening Palugo’s carbon footprint with every use. The combustion unit, or place where one actually burns the wood, is connected to a thermal battery that stores the heat produced by the stove and then pushes the heated gases through an adjacent bench that we built. This stove has the capacity to store heat for hours and even days after the initial combustion happens because of the way it separates the combustion unit from the area where the heat is actually used. Furthermore, the stove’s chimney is a heating unit inside itself in that it creates a heat draft every time the stove is used. Not only did we complete this project with diligence and determination, but now future semester students will always have a nice, warm place to sit.

            Another project that has occupied the majority of the past week was giving the Palugan alpacas fancy new haircuts. Marcea, Zoe, Nelly, and I spent our days wrangling the alpacas at Palugo, tying them down, and relieving them of what must feel to them like wearing four sweaters and a down coat. We learned that the highest quality fiber (alpacas don’t have wool, but fiber because, unlike sheep, their hairs have no miniscule barbs attached to them) is located along the alpaca’s stomach, across its back, and up its neck.

            By the end of the second day, we had sheared five alpacas, accumulating more than an adequate amount of some of the softest fiber I have ever felt. Originally, we were going to have a hand at trying both shearing with scissors and using a machine. We planned on shearing the last alpaca, Quena, with a machine. She put up a fight, bucking and pulling with impressive strength, and in response to our pulling and prodding clearly expressed her distaste for the entire situation by eyeing us with disgust and becoming immovable. We ended up having to shear her with scissors in the middle of the pasture.

            After subduing and shearing Quena, we moved on to processing the fiber. This included first boiling all of the fiber we had previously removed from the alpacas, hosing it out with cold water, sorting out the pieces that were so caked in dirt that they needed to be reboiled, and hanging the now clean pieces of fiber to dry underneath the hot Ecuadorian sun. We even made some black walnut dye and dyed a good amount of the fiber, the creamy white of Quena’s fibers turning a rich gold and burgundy by the project’s end.

            Yet another project that has been completed over the course of our respite in Palugo is the solar hot-water heater, spearheaded by Clayton, our photographer and energy manager. He has been working hand in hand with Matthias over the past week to create an effective way to both generate and manage hot water using the seemingly never-ending sun rays that find their way into Palugo. Not only will it further reduce Palugo’s expenses, but it will also, potentially, provide future semester students with hot laundry water and hot tap water with which to wash dishes (no longer any need for putting a massive pot of dishwater on the fire!).

            Kestrel, our medic, has been multitasking this past week, aiding in the construction of the stove as well as working on a project entirely her own this semester—the herb book. The herb book was started by the previous semester’s medic and now is added to each year by the medic; a transcendent part of the medic’s job. This book includes various herbs, ones native to New Hampshire as well as Ecuador, their uses, and ways in which to process them: tinctures, salves, teas, and so forth. We, as a semester, are grateful to Kestrel for this resource, and with it, we know we will leave our semester’s footprint in Palugo for years to come.

            The foodies, Isa and Hila, have been working with Hannah to create a solar food dehydrator so as to provide future semester students with the opportunity to dehydrate the food needed for expeditions by using only the power of the sun. Although there have been a few carpentry mishaps, the dehydrator is nearly complete, consisting of what looks like a very fancy little house, several trays on which one can lay food for drying, insulation to seal in the heat, and a solar panel that feeds into the side of the house and provides la casa de la comida with the heat it needs to properly dry the food inside. The new dehydrator is a creation whose beauty and efficiency far exceeds that of any dehydrator Kroka could possibly purchase and whose construction was only made possible by the willing hands of three amazing carpenters.

            Our camp manager, Ezra, has been heading a couple of different projects this week so as to keep our home here at Palugo running smoothly and efficiently. At the start of the week, Ezra designed an entire recycling system at the Palugo stables, which is an addition that will allow us to make fewer trips to the recycling station as well as encourage even more recycling of discarded items than is already present at Palugo. Ezra’s achievements this week do not stop there however, for he has also designed and created new cubbies for the chozon. The cubbies will house all of our academic gear and serve as a beautiful addition to the chozon.

            On Friday, as many of you may know, the Day of the Dead weekend commenced. For us here at Palugo, that meant a trip to Pifo with Matthias to witness and engage in some of the festivities happening concurrently in the larger cities and towns throughout Central and South America. We sampled wawas de pan y colada morada, which are traditional foods of the Day of the Dead and are usually shared between oneself and the deceased at the gravesite of a loved one. We learned that, rather than a day of mourning, the Day of the Dead is a day of celebration for the lives of those who have passed on. We even had the opportunity to view the day in full swing at a cemetery in Pifo, taking with us each a flower and having a moment to think about those special people in our lives who are no longer with us.

            With our next expedition just around the corner, we had a lesson in rock climbing, led by Thomas’ cousin Sebastian, whom we met on the river section of our previous expedition, and who will be joining us on Cotopaxi in just a week. We learned to properly use the harnesses and how to belay our partners (hold and control the rope to which they are attached in a way that ensures their safety). We spent the day relishing in the sheer power of the cliff face we were on, learning all that we could accomplish with our bodies, as well as learning how to push past what was a bit of an edge for some of us: Knowing in our hearts that we were completely safe, that one of our friends was there to catch us if we should fall, and feeling the natural adrenaline rush brought on by clinging to the side of a cliff. At the day’s end, we had all tried our hands (and our feet) at rock climbing and, after getting just a tiny taste of the sport, are looking forward to our next rock-climbing opportunity.

            We will embark on our next and final expedition in a mere two days time—an expedition to the mountains. During our last voyage together as a group before we return home, we will be trekking around ten kilometers most days and spending the rest of our time either at glacier school or attempting to summit the mountains with whom we will be spending the next two weeks. Although our journey will be challenging, we are excited with the concept of adventure at our fingers, are elated with the potential of all that we will learn, and are warm with the knowing that we move forward into this new chapter as a community.

Volamos

Volamos como condores

Volamos muy alto

Alrededor de los Andes

Con alas de Amor

Hey wichi chayo

Hey wahayo

Hey wahamuna hey

Hey wahayo

Volamos como agilas

Volamos muy alto

Alrededor del cielo

Con alas de epaz

Hey wichi chayo

Hey wahayo

Hey wahamuna hey

Hey wahayo

Volamos como colibris

Volamos muy bajo

Alrededor de la palcha

Con alas humidad

Hey wichi chayo

Hey wahayo

Hey wahamuna hey

Hey wahayo

~ a song we sing to bless the meal

NHESP 2011 Update 8

Quote of the week: “We go with the flow here; we move at the jungle speed.”

Spanish of the week: Camella (cinnamon)

After we bid farewell to our bikes—the faithful modes of transportation throughout our journey across the Andes—we prepared for an entirely new chapter of our adventure: the river.

            We arrived at our destination at night, and our ears were rich with the noises of the jungle: the gentle clicking of the cicadas and the sweet swell and rush of the river next to which we made our home for the next two nights. Luckily for us, Thomas’ father, Francisco, who had been our kind and loyal support throughout the bike expedition, bringing us gear that we were not able to carry with us while biking, had found a couple of abandoned cabins conveniently located next to a large pavilion-esque shelter, which is where we chose to create our kitchen and store our gear. Thanks go to our camp manager Ezra and our kitchen manager Isa for turning it into a homey and beautiful space for us to occupy over the next couple of nights.

            After getting settled into our new jungle home, we were introduced to two new additions to our group who would accompany us on the river portion of our expedition: Anjo, an experienced kayaker and friend of Thomas and Marcea’s, and Sebastian, Thomas’ cousin, whose knowledge of the ways of the river never ceased to impress. Both were joining our group to not only teach us how to kayak and to read the river, but also to provide aid should someone fall off the raft or cataraft in the rapids (which never happened).

            After breakfast the following day, we broke up into three groups to learn about the energy of the river and the art of living on it. Throughout the morning, we learned how to rescue someone using throw ropes, learned how to swim in white water, and how to read the river. (Don’t worry parents: Anytime we were in the river we were fully equipped with life vests and rafting helmets.) We jumped eagerly into the cool rush of the rapids, felt the coarse strength of the throw ropes as we tossed them out to our friends swimming down the river, and learned about the different aspects of the river—holes, eddies, rowlies, and so on—all the various manifestations of the power of the water.

            In the afternoon, we worked together to assemble the cataraft, one of the modes of transportation we would be using on the river. It is also known as Thomas’ baby as he is its proud creator. The idea behind the cataraft is simple: Two pontoons are held together by a chainwork of plexiglas and PVC pipes covered with mesh to create an area to put gear, while those who are propelling the craft sit on the pontoons.

            Although the sun was hot and the sand flies persistent, together we assembled the cataraft, finding the proper position for each pipe and securing everything with a series of bolts, ropes, and rubber, all under Clayton’s watchful eye (he had been assigned the task of getting to know every aspect of the cataraft as totally and completely as possible, so as to ensure a painless setup). In the end, we had a raft as ready for adventure as we were.

            The following day we set out on the river with backpacks full of our own gear, as well as group gear, packed into the bed of the cataraft. Eight of us paddled the cataraft (christened the Yucca), and six of us paddled the raft (named the Schnitzel): There was rivalry between the two boats throughout our journey on the river, such that could only be settled by the occasional boarding and tossing off of passengers on the opposing boat.

            We were gleeful floating over rapid after rapid, thoroughly soaking ourselves in the cool water of the tropical river, a perfect antidote for the relentless heat of the sun’s rays. The amazing waterwoman Kestrel, Anjo, and Sebastian paddled alongside us in kayaks. If we wanted, anyone of us could take a turn in Kestrel’s kayak.

            We reached our destination early that day and set up camp on the cool river sand among the smooth complexity of the rocks that seemed to line every beach along the river. We stayed at this

campsite an extra day instead of moving down the river toward the final stop in our expedition, Shiwacotcha. The extra time gave us a chance to play in the jungle and connect to its abundance, to explore the vastness of its life, the dip and climb of its vine-laden ravines, and the unending pulse of the ants that seemed to colonize everything.

            We woke early the next day so Leo, Hytham, and I could gather water from the gentle trickle of a jungle spring off the steep drop of a nearby cliff. Eventually our whole group ventured into a nearby crevasse in the rock. Up we climbed, through a labyrinth of ferns, vines, and the comforting presence of grandmother trees that lined our way. We soon realized, however, that if we were to keep going up the mountainside we had chosen, we would have a vertical climb. We were so driven with the adventure of the jungle that we couldn’t resist the appeal of letting loose our inner jungle monkeys to find a way up a spiral of vines, tree roots, and rocky soil. Thomas and Sebastian hopped up first to spot us and lend us both a rope and helping hand, and one by one, we all scrambled, some more gracefully than others, up the side of the crevasse. Nelly’s mode of climbing was definitely the most entertaining of our group.

            As we explored the jungle, we marveled at the wide variety and vibrant colors of the plant life—rich greens and pinks, shy purples, and deep blues—such a change from our familiar calm evergreens and elegant oaks of New England. Hila was particularly excited about the plentiful jungle flowers that added a quiet beauty to the forest, lining the trunk of nearly every tree or sprouting from the trees themselves.

            Something we never saw a shortage of during our day of exploration (and throughout the entirety of the river trip) was ants. From every crevice of every tree, the rich debris that lined the forest floor, even from large nests that were created inside of living plants came the army of ants, ready to pounce on unsuspecting bare feet and food left out for a split second too long: large ants with equally sized pinschers, small red ants with the ability to make you squeal and dance wildly should they infest your clothing, small black ants that like to live underneath logs . . . ants, ants, ants, the pulsating life of the jungle.

            When our day of adventuring through the jungle came to a close, some of us decided to wrangle the cataraft and paddle back to our camp; a few of us bathed in the sun’s warmth on the beach as we waited for the cataraft; and a few brave souls decided to swim back to camp. Although our camp was on a beach just across the river from the one we were on, the strength of the river’s current made swimming across it an arduous task. Noah, one of the first swimmers to set off, ended up practicing some of his whitewater swimming skills and landed some ways down the beach from our camp, sopping wet and a little disgruntled, but enjoying the river none the less. Leah faired much better by swimming upstream for a while so as to counter the river’s current and even avoided the nearby rapid as a result (I was impressed, as my river-swimming abilities are not quite as strong).

            The next day we set off on the river once more, our path led by our trusty navigator, Robert, who charted our way throughout the entire expedition—a role that he filled with such grace and perseverance as to earn the entire group’s heartfelt gratitude for his efforts.

            We spent the day on the river, each of us getting the chance paddle the Yucca, the Schnitzel, or a kayak. That day we stopped at the perfect tree to launch oneself off into the cool river water. Nestling underneath the tree on a cliff was a large black lizard with yellow, iridescent spots—a beautiful, unique sight. We took turns shimmying our way up the tree and falling down into the sweet river water below—such a treat! We finally made camp on another beach and prepared for the arrival of Michael and Marcela, two other Kroka New Hampshire–Ecuador Semester teachers who would be switching out with our beloved Marcea and Thomas for the final three days of our expedition.

            The following morning we bid farewell to Marcea, Thomas, Anjo, and Sebastian (although Sebastian will be joining us for our mountain expedition as well) and the Schnitzel. We packed the cataraft and the remainder of our group and personal gear into our backpacks and set out to trek the final distance to Shiwacotcha. During the day we experienced the true power of the heat and humidity of the jungle, yet also the beauty and grace of jungle life—the bright blue, metallic insects that crawled across the forest floor; the giant elegant ferns that lined our way; the cool jungle streams from which we gathered water. In addition to Marcela and Michael, Nadino a young man from Shiwacotcha, and semester alumnus, joined our group for the final leg of our journey.

            We arrived at Shiwacotcha at noon and shared camella tea and bananas with Nadino’s family, who we would be staying with for the next couple of days, as we learned about the project we would be working on during our time in Shiwacotcha. We were to help finish roofing the family’s chozon building, which was a particularly unique task for us because we would be using tokillas, a typical roofing material of the jungle. Tokillas are giant leaves, almost resembling palms, which when woven onto the roof frame correctly and when smoked constantly can last up to fifteen years as a reliable and very beautiful roof.

            The following day we split into three task forces: One group carried bundle after bundle of the heavy tokilla leaves from the depths of the jungle to where the construction was occurring; learning to balance the bundles on our shoulders or on our backs, all the while trying to avoid the occasional unhappy ant that happened to be wrapped up inside the leaves. Another group learned how to properly bundle together tokillas by stripping away the fibers from the stem to create a sort of strip from which the bundle can be adequately secured. And the third group worked on the roof itself, learning how to weave and wrap the leaves tightly to the roof frame. At the end of the day, although we had not completely finished the roof, we were happy with all that we had accomplished, all the new skills learned, and the new friends made.

            The next day we split into two groups—boys and girls—to learn the different daily tasks of men and women in Shiwacotcha. The girls, accompanied by Isolina (Nadino’s mother and a wonderful cook), harvested yucca, which is a root vegetable similar to a potato and a staple food of Ecuadorian jungle communities. One very interesting thing about yucca is the efficiency of the plant itself. Once it is harvested, the stem part can be replanted, and in three to six months, an entirely new yucca root will be ready to harvest ensuring a perfect cycle of planting and harvesting. In addition to yucca, we also harvested several papaya fruits, some of which were harder to get than others. Some teamwork was needed: Zoe stood on Leah’s shoulders while wielding a long stick to poke the papaya off of the top of the tree while Kestrel stood below and caught the falling fruits.

            While the girls were enjoying harvesting what foods the jungle had to offer, the boys harvested fruits of the pilche plant, which can be used to make bowls and cups. During the process of acquiring the pilches, Noah, Hytham, and Leo found a new calling—chocolate making. They gathered several cocoa fruits and saved the beans they found within (which are currently drying out in the warm Palugo sun).

            When our two groups joined together for lunch, we had two different projects at hand: scraping out and carving our pilches and making cheecha, which was a project only for the girls. In Shiwacotcha, as well as many other Ecuadorian communities, cheecha is made only by the women by chewing up the boiled root of the yucca plant, depositing it back into a large wooden bowl made solely for that purpose, and letting it ferment for a few days. It is a drink with many of the same healing properties as Kombucha and is a staple drink and source of sustenance for the people of Shiwacotcha. It is also said that because it is made with the saliva of the village women, so many antibodies are shared between the community that it is rare that any person in the village gets sick. We all got the opportunity to try cheecha while in Shiwacotcha, some liking it better than others (Zoe and Ezra developed a particular affinity for it, though I cannot say the same for Noah or myself). At the day’s end we all had beautiful carved pilches to display and were eager for the next day, which would be our final day of our river trip and the final day of our expedition.

            We rose early that morning, ate one last breakfast with the family that had so kindly welcomed us into their home, piled all of our gear as well as ourselves on the cataraft and headed down the river. Although at the start of our journey there were several places where the river was too shallow for our rather heavy boat, and we would have to jump out and push it down the river, eventually we reached a place where we could just float and enjoy all the river had to offer one final time— a time to say goodbye and give thanks to all it had taught us over the course of our long, beautiful adventure.

            When our last day of expedition came to a close, we worked hard to dissemble the cataraft and get our personal and group gear in order, and we all piled in the familiar Palugo van driven by Victor. Arriving at Palugo that night was a heartwarming experience for all of us; we all felt so lucky to be in a place, however far from our own individual homes, that we could consider a home—a beautiful place in which we could all rest, rejuvenate, and escape from ants (finally).

            Our first expedition is an experience that all of us will never forget and never cease to appreciate—all the skills we learned, the people we met, the families we became a part of, all of these things we will remember in our hearts and minds forever. And as we step forward into a new chapter in our time here, we step forward as a community.

Messages from our community:

Nelly says, “Mom, please send the earring from my cartilage piercing, it’s in the little turquoise flower bowl on top of my dresser in Colin’s room; you can tell it because it has a pointy end and a bell-shaped stopper.”

Happy Halloween!