Fieldwork, Friction Fire, and Feasts
By Abby Lateer & Margo Hayes
On campus, we would typically spend Saturday mornings staring at the ceiling (or our phones) for a little while before stumbling out of bed for Dana brunch at around noon. Here at Arcadia, Saturday mornings usually find us up for our customary 7:15 a.m. breakfast, then packing a quick lunch before heading out to the van for some kind of adventure. This past Saturday was no different, except we weren’t going rock climbing or whitewater rafting—in fact, we didn’t even leave the property. On that unseasonably warm morning, chainsaw and work gloves in tow, we marched around the cove and down the Massawepie access road to meet trail work day head-on.
Trailwork day has long been a tradition for Arcadians. Originally, students would head over to the High Peaks to volunteer, but starting in 2009, the director team and Ben Geiger, the head ranger at Massawepie, decided that our efforts would be better spent onsite. We’d say we agree with their choice—after spending so much time romping around the beautiful trails all over the property, we stood with our tools in the sun that morning ready to give back to this place that has given us so much.
When we arrived, Peter, a trail work volunteer, was waiting for us with rakes, saws, and a game plan. Our objective for the day was to build a trail for the Boy Scout troops who use this property, giving them a more direct route to the rifle range rather than walking on the road. As Peter talked we quickly learned that, in his forty-odd years of working on the Massawepie easement, Peter has gained a wealth of knowledge about this place and its unique history. Under his direction, we got to work snipping saplings, clearing branches and leaves, and heaving rocks out of dark earth. Pathways were lined with sticks, and an inviting archway was built at the trail’s entrance. By the early afternoon, we were packing up supplies and waving goodbye to Peter, feeling steady and satisfied from the act of making something with our hands, and moving our bodies in the sun.
But the day’s festivities didn’t end there. After we spent the rest of the afternoon sleeping, reading, and drawing on the sunny front dock, the time to start preparing dinner came around, and the First Ever Arcadian Iron Chef Competition commenced. [Editor’s note: In the fall of 2019, a similar competition was designated “The Great Arcadian Bakeoff.”]
The competitors: Abby vs. Elder Autumn in the cooking category, and Anni vs. Kim in baking. The dinner chefs were given a simple framework—use green beans and cumin—and the bakers had agreed on each making a chocolate cake. The kitchen was a hive of activity for the next several hours, full of chopping, stirring, smack-talking, and plenty of unsolicited commentary from the “live studio audience” who sat around pretending to do homework and generally contributing nothing useful. By the time dinner was growing near, all five burners were crowded with pots and pans, baking trays were literally stacked on top of one another in the oven, and half of the dishes we own were filthy. When the moment of truth finally arrived, the verdict from our judges came in: Elder Autumn’s spicy veggie stir-fry beat out Abby’s stuffed squash (although there are rumors floating around of a rigged election), and Kim’s three-layered chocolate-mocha cake beat out Anni’s freehand orange-coffee cake. Kim says of her victory: “Winning the baking competition helped me solidify the huge ego I already knew I had.” Besides the self-esteem boosts, the winners enjoyed kicking up their feet while Anni and Abby tackled dishes. At the end of the night, no matter who won and who lost, everyone went to bed with stomachs full of delicious food.
Monday rolled around along with the return to routine: breakfast, then half the group left for woodworking with Michael Frenette while the other half stayed in the yurt village enjoying some free time. Our afternoon class, Knowing Nature, taught by director Jake McCoola, was the object of some excitement. Last week Jake announced that we’d be having a special guest to teach us “earth skills” like animal tracking, making natural cordage, and building a friction fire. The guest turned out to be none other than Len Mackey, self-proclaimed jack-of-all-trades: earth skills teacher, drummer, physical therapist, and musician. The Arcadians who had met him before shared stories with the others, eagerly anticipating his arrival.
Class took place outside, which wasn’t unusual but the location was—Jake led us to the sandpit down the access road and instructed us to stand in a circle facing the surrounding woods, paying attention to our environment. A few minutes of silence passed before we heard a voice:
“Anyone see me yet?”
The trees were talking—no wait—a figure sat up from the base of a tree in front of us. Suddenly, leaves fell away and a human stood up from the forest floor. “Hey everybody, I’m Len.” Right away we jumped into tracking, this enthusiastic man with leaves still in his ponytail showing us bird and deer tracks we had walked right past on the sand, teaching us how to use tracks to figure out age and even mood, and having us track each other through the woods.
After, he showed us how to make natural cordage using fibers like milkweed and basswood (we have since started making friendship bracelets with this newfound skill), and how to make friction fire using a bow drill and a hand drill. The best part of Len’s visit, however, was in the evening. He stayed with us for dinner, bringing some delicious venison and homegrown hot peppers. The night ended with a drum circle around a bonfire, everyone banging on one of the many drums Len had brought as we sat under bright stars and glowed in the firelight. As the night drew to a close, Len had us sing the song “Namu, Namu,” an expression of joy and gratitude for our fellow Arcadians.
At one point during the fire, Len led us in a breathing exercise and then went on to tell us a creation story he wrote about the instrument the didgeridoo. With his hand over his heart, he said, “We all come from love, and this is the sound that love makes.” The digeridoo started to drone, and one by one we opened our eyes, taking in the night and everything we learned that day—just as much outside class as in. He left before anyone was awake the next morning, but left a note that read: “If you want to learn more, listen to Mother Earth and you will learn from her.” The tools and skills Len left us with are not only practical, they can also serve as a gateway to a deeper connection with the Earth, which can last a lifetime.
Life here at Arcadia feels like it’s moving faster and faster as our time draws closer to an end. We are trying to enjoy this place for everything it has to offer. Whether we do this by putting our time and energy into bettering the land we’re on, cooking each other extravagant meals, or learning new ways to connect to our environment, the intention is all the same. We want to celebrate the place where we are and the people we’re with in this unique, beautiful sliver of time. In the words of Len Mackey, Arcadia is a place for love, and everything here is made from it.