A Native Son? In the politics of cultural identity, I used to bristle a little at referring to our Haudenosaunee brothers and sisters as "Native Americans", because it implies I'm not. I used to ask myself "Don't I know these lands and waters pretty well?" "Am I not a native son, nourished by this place, of this place, as much as anyone? Am I not a creature, somewhat knowledgeable in his biome, as much as anyone else here?" "Don't we all have to think of ourselves as Native Americans, treading on the bones of our ancestors, in order to love this place appropriately?" I can read rivers and creeks and soils and forests and see a little into the story of landscapes. I can identify most of the trees and find some edible, medicinal, and utility plants in any season here. I love this region, the Finger Lakes of Western New York, deeply. I've been arrested trying
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Welcome to my blog on paddling the NFCT. My purpose for keeping this is, in a sense, to take you all along with me...for you to be my "Wilson". On a practical level, this will be a way for friends and family to keep tabs on me in the event they want to join me for part of the journey. And so I'm hoping this expedites communication rather than layer it. This trip was originally going to be with a partner, Tom. But since he couldn't go, I'm embracing the challenge of paddling most of it alone. Being alone means that I will have to dial back risk taking even more, especially on rivers. But that's ok. The Outlaw Jose Wales said "A man's gotta know his limitations" (said between gritted teeth) and, at age 53, I know mine on water. It's also part of an experiment of mine in being alone. I've always found meaning and beauty in shared experiences, by turning to the person I'm traveling with immediately to confirm something to be
