How to Read and Live McPhee's
The Survival of the Bark Canoe

"When Henri Vaillancourt goes off to the Main woods, he does not make extensive plans. Plans annoy him. He just gets out his pack baskets, tosses in some food and gear, takes a canoe, and goes." – McPhee, from The Survival of the Bark Canoe









Oct. 29

You might think that after reading the ways of Vallincourt above, about not making any extensive plans, just get out there, that the last thing a series of journal entries about the process of creating something would be a long term plan. Not planning is the ideal of things; its once you have all of the other things handled, so to speak, that you are allowed to simply wake up in the morning, peak out the sliver in between brown curtains, catch a nice shard of sunshine, and just head out to the river with birchbark lightly over the shoulder. Problem is you have to have the birchbark. I do have one-mans, and I do have the river. As for the sunshine between the curtains, well, it is Wisconsin, and that is about as unpredictable as the future success of my undertakings. It is quite fascinating though, isn't it, how long a man or woman might spend planning certain things just so that they might experience no planning. I'd say in many ways this is the very crux of the idea behind the writings here. My idea to personalize the reading of the great McPhee's work stems from a seed of recognition that has grown inside my bellow for virtually ever. It has now sprouted at mid-age and is trying to find some ways grow outside of my ears or wherever else it can find some sunlight. It is this recognition: I, as I sense just about every other American (adult or young), need some more constructive stuff to do than sitting inside our minds and we watch our minds even more than ever as it usually sits right in front of us as a lap top or in our hands as a phone. I happen to love both of these, so this is not by any means an anti-tech screed. It is, however, a final acceptance that the being we call human has a lot of impulses and abilities inside it, formed over a considerable amount of time, that simply are not getting proper exercise in these modern times. I always ask myself the most rudimentary philosophical / lifestyle question in the world: would a day go by better if I were able to both look into my self-styled mirrors (computer, phone), and create something by hand all the while? A favorite move and historical character comes to mind, Ghandi, who was often shown throughout his day both handling the political foment of his country while sitting or lying down at the weaver's box...making something. I think to the farmer's trade and craft, the original back to nature work, but that also had things to do, create, offer, share, make a living. As we've all rapturously escaped the farm, we'll notice we have also rapturously escaped collective sanity. I'd give every cent I earn from all endeavors, if our current group of political class had to farm on the side. Every one of them. Make something. Do something. Get to know a tree, they're neat! What happens when your farm water gets sick? Help it out with sustainable solutions! Maybe show the country some leadership in how to ... govern! Point being, the modern has figured out a way to unconsciously skip over the raw material of being human and we live inside bright and seemingly always gratifying mirrors. It's a land of narcissism, but that, if not detected, goes on as a cultural mantra and has fewer wise detractors left to say, hey, wait a minute, take a look inside another kind of mirror, one that is either right at the end of your own arms, your hands, or the woods, or the rest of the world which holds some folks out there that might not be exactly like you. Whoa. This may be the beginning of something. I sense I'll read the book. We'll just have to see if I ever get around to crafting my canoe.