As I sped by seven tow trucks early last gameday morning, I felt as giddy as a caffeinated first-grader wearing a zebra mask at the zoo. Chicken biscuit in hand, I was ready for a field trip.I had dumped the spiral notebooks from my backpack onto the floor, replacing them with a hammock, sunscreen, red swimsuit, Ole Miss water bottle, Chacos, toilet paper, a floppy-brimmed hat and the secret ingredients for a PB&J.
Dr. Cliff Ochs was taking our class on the Mississippi River to canoe down the Father of Waters. With Clarksdale-based Quapaw Canoe Company as our guides, we were to paddle 25 miles down the river past Helena, Ark., in a French voyageur-style cypress canoe. Time to escape to nature.
Caring for the environment while living from air conditioner to air conditioner seems often to be either a vague duty or a complete hassle. Forgetting nature during the daily grind is easy. We need a reminder of nature’s beauty. We need canoe trips. For one, Instagram sunsets cannot compare to the color palette on the river at dusk. Also, we need reminders of the great outdoor’s vitality to remain personally invested in the environment.
Nature can inspire in a moment. If you were to ask me why the river needs sustainable care, I’d quip, “For the pelicans.” From upstream, I could hear the rushing wings as the hunting birds swirled across the river. Like flying border collies, they corralled a great school of carp and proceeded to feast on the Asian delicacies. When we passed the flock in our canoe, the stuffed birds proudly watched us float on by. Like Walter Anderson, the reclusive Mississippi Gulf Coast watercolorist, I was amazed by the pelicans. They dispatched the invasive species of carp, the kudzu of the Mississippi River, with a fierce style worthy of the NBA’s new best mascot. From a biology perspective, I was thrilled, for healthy predators prove a healthy ecosystem.
The academic conclusion was really just a peripheral concern. The pelicans were beautiful. Am I making an excessive to-do about some avian creatures? Perhaps. Yet now I have a personal memory of the river. It is not about caring for the environment, whatever that cliche means. It is about protecting pelicans, both in honor of my memory and for the other paddlers to come.
Beyond the responsibility reminder, we need to “get out there” for our own benefit. Journeying by paddle power is a lesson on time and stress. Before we had so much as dipped a paddle in the water, we had a catastrophe. The Tahoe’s tires were spinning on the sand. In Oxford, the delay would have been maddeningly exasperating. Yet we were on river time. The gas pedals on a canoe are between your shoulder blades.
Rather than wearing ourselves out to hurry, we embraced a take-life-as-it-comes philosophy. The college pace conditions us to believe in the idea of lost time, but river time teaches that time is not lost but lived. When your watch is the sun, the tick-tock anxiety leaves.
On the river, preparation anxiety does not control. You cannot beat yourself up like we do in Oxford for, say, not studying enough. On the river you make do with what experience and supplies you have, no guilt allowed. On a portage, you realize the value of the pack light maxim within six steps. The Boy Scout motto “be prepared” does not mean to be over-prepared and over-burdened. Instead, be prepared to go without. Though in my room I thought I needed three pairs of shoes, my bare feet were the far better choice for the Mississippi mud.
After the river trip, I am convinced that I need to clean out some clutter from the school frenzy by regaining some margin. Be radical; go phoneless for an afternoon this week. Take breaks. After jumping into the river for a cool-off, my refreshed spirit could paddle that much faster. To my surprise, we covered the 25 miles quickly. With my classmates rowing as a team and the river’s five mph current, our canoe traveled much faster than the average car on Jackson Avenue during the lunch hour.
Often college-stress lies to us, suggesting that we are on our own. Never forget that your friends and family can row the river with you. The destination is closer than you think and prettier than a picture. I hope you see some pelicans on the way.
Neal McMillin is a senior southern studies major from Madison.
