An Experience Down Under
Last year’s winter issue of Pietisten found me in the Southern Hemisphere. Luck had smiled on me, and I had been given the opportunity to participate in Carleton College’s Marine and Field Biology Seminar in Australia and New Zealand. Finding some free time between snorkeling and analyzing the chemical content of kelp, I perused the golden pages of the Pie (well, at least, beige pages).
Sitting next to the South Pacific Ocean, thousands of miles from home, I found Peter Sandstrom’s meditation for the Pietisten annual meeting especially meaningful as he described fleeing to the water’s edge. Sandstrom quoted from Mark Twain’s Life on the Mississippi about the unpredictable nature of rivers, how they jump their banks and cut through new land. Sitting next to a river, considered calm and constant, parallels situations in life where we get set in our ways, comfortable, and narrow of mind. Unexpectedly, things change. Just as the river jumps its bank and cuts a new path, new outlooks, exciting opportunities, and fresh perspectives present themselves. One experience I had in New Zealand vividly demonstrated to me the effect a “jumping river” can have, not only to the land but also to the human spirit.
Cutting through the Alps of New Zealand’s South Island via the one-lane highway, our group took a lunch break by the banks of a mountain stream. Many hundreds of years ago this stream jumped its banks and cut into a huge limestone bank, creating a long, twisting cave and thereby earning the title Cave Stream. Having the chance to grab a flashlight and join a handful of others from the Carleton program to explore this cave for an afternoon was an eye-opening adventure. Never having done much caving before, I didn’t know what to expect. At first the darkness and noise of the icy, clear water rushing against my legs up to my thighs was a little overwhelming. Continuing along and becoming accustomed to the eerie ambiance, I began to observe things around me. I really enjoyed poking around the cave, touching the smooth ribbons of limestone crafted by the pounding, blunt hands of the cold water. I was intrigued by the spooky reflections of my flashlight off the water, casting ghosts and sparkles onto the cave walls. I saw several small eels snaking their way through pools along the sides of the stream, an earthworm clinging to the bare rock, and spiders scurrying to their webs in the dark corners and cracks of the cave. It was fun to climb the rocks into small tunnels off the main path, which continued for many meters before rejoining the stream. Turning off the flashlight gave me a new perspective on navigation against the strong current, up and over large rocks, and reminded me of my dependence on light. After an hour or so, it was refreshing to come back to daylight at the mouth of the cave and out into the sun-drenched, scenic landscape, completing the journey and leaving the ghosts and eels behind.
In some ways I compare that afternoon in the cave to the Australia/New Zealand program in general. Having the opportunity to join classmates on that adventure was like having a rushing stream cut into rock, carving out a new place in my mind to explore and learn. We explored unfamiliar waters and lands with flippers and hiking boots and discovered uniquely different ecosystems and species compared to home. We became friends with citizens and indigenous peoples of these countries, discussing everything from cricket matches to heated racial and cultural issues. Just as the cave had small off-shoots and side tunnels, so did we take time to ask questions and explore places off the beaten track. Those times, when we went off alone or in small groups, were some of the most meaningful parts of the trip. Having time to snorkel around coral reef crests, camp by mountain lakes, and hike through rain forest creeks were all tremendous water’s edge experiences for me. More than just learning about science, species, and ecosystems, I had the opportunity to learn more about myself and how I feel about the things around me.
Twain went on to note how the Mississippi river’s changing course causes changes in boundary lines and jurisdictions. “Such a thing, happening in the upper river in the old times, could have transferred a slave from Missouri to Illinois and made a free man of him.” Going to and exploring the water’s edge thousands of miles from home was a freeing and refreshing experience for me. Being in a place so different from home, with different animals, plants, people, traditions, and ideas, helped me gain fresh perspectives, strengthen my faith, and define part of who I am. There is something in the water which I can’t describe, but I love deeply. Being by the unpredictable waterfront was a key part of this learning process. For three months last winter, I was there almost every day.