Think globally, paddle locally

It all started a while back on our first high school canoe trip when one senior told me that it was his first time out on Mono Lake. Talking with other students made me realize that some Mono Basin youths knew far less about the natural world surrounding them than many of our seasonal visitors.

After that first trip I proposed that the Committee offer canoe trips to all classes at both the elementary and high school. The Committee immediately supported the idea and agreed to provide canoes, equipment, and staff members for guides. Since then we have taken out grades 1-12 on canoe trips to many places around the lake, including an all-day trip to Negit and Paoha islands.

Early this September we took high school teacher Jeff Putman and his science class canoeing on Mono Lake on a perfect fall day. After studying the freshwater layer at the mouth of a creek we paddled on to a tufa grove and were treated to excellent views of a pair of osprey. The students, as usual, showed an exuberance for learning that is not always evident in the classroom. Jeff asked if we could go out again later that month. I told him sure, as long as anything unforeseen didn't happen.

Unfortunately, it did. On September 19, fire destroyed Lee Vining High School (LVHS). The next few days were a blur. Furniture, books, and equipment salvaged by students, teachers, and members of the community had to be moved between the two schools.

A few days after the fire I told Jeff that I was still willing to take his class canoeing whenever things settled down. Fortunately, my remark was overheard by another teacher, Kristin McBride, who immediately suggested, "Why don't we just take the whole school out?"

Wondering, "Why didn't I think of that?" I calculated that by tying two canoes on my roof rack and towing the canoe trailer with its six canoes we would indeed be able to launch all LVHS students and staff in one flotilla. "Let's do it!" I responded.

The day of our expedition dawned windy. Driving down to the lake, I anxiously watched the branches on the sagebrush and rabbitbrush for signs of movement. In my ten years of canoeing I never wished so fervently for a calm day. Larry Ford was waiting for us at the launch site and said that the wind had died down about 20 minutes earlier. It was still calm a short while later when LVHS students and staff gathered near the canoes on the beach. Pointing out towards the lake I reminded them that although the school had burned down, our best classroom was still here.

Amid hearty cheers we launched and headed east through moderately choppy water towards an isolated tufa tower. The last time I had been out to this huge formation it was on the tip of a peninsula jutting out into the lake. Mono's waters had risen two feet since then, so as I expected, we found the tower as an island for the first time since the early 1970s. The barrier beaches behind the tower had been breached by wave action, forming a network of lagoons.

Unfortunately, we didn't have much time to enjoy this amazing place because the wind had come up in full force. Looking out from our sheltered lagoon through the inlet, we saw rows of two- to three-foot breakers forming up. I had a quick conference with Larry during which we decided to try and make it back since it was an onshore wind, and we had good strong paddlers.

Before this outing our school canoe trips had been on calm water where we could drift lazily, and where paddling was almost an afterthought. But as we launched out through the inlet it was clear that the lake had become a force to be reckoned with. Three- to four-foot swells separated by only four to five feet demanded that we steer a zigzag pattern, tacking back and forth so that our bows encountered the waves at an angle.

As the crest of a wave reared my stern seat upwards, I looked around and saw the other boats doing fine. Even over the sound of the wind, I could hear shouts of youthful exuberance punctuated by the squeals of wave-soaked passengers. While the students were really having fun, and probably wished that the waves were ten feet high, I was definitely feeling the weight of responsibility. But as Navy Beach came into view my anxiety was replaced by a feeling of pride as I realized that we had given these students a tough assignment: taking nature on its own terms. As far as I was concerned they had gotten straight A's and, for a couple of hours at least, could put aside images of the burned school and get their lessons from the greatest teacher of all.