By David B.W.
One September ago, when school’s tight grasp of authority had once again crept upon the innocent students, from which it derived it’s life, a van drove to Wisconsin. What was to emerge from that van was a different kind of student; equally respectable and ambitious yet, unable to find their way in a traditional public school system. Individually, the children within that van were known by many different names to many different people, but to the main student body of Minnetonka High School they were known as Mini-Schoolers.
I, David Barnier-Wells, was one of these Mini-Schoolers. With me were my peers, Mooch, Erica, Falica, Emily, Griffin, and Tyler. We had all signed up for the famed “Mark Warren Trip”; a trip that resonates deeply within the history of Mini-Schoolers and is talked about by many. Mark Warren, after whom the trip is appropriately named, is a naturalist who once a year joins the Mini-School students for three days. These days are spent as a group, in the woods, learning the secrets and knowledge Mark has to offer to anyone who will care to listen. Many would describe him as a quiet guy who chooses to speak through his actions rather than words, which often have a way of not being heard.
The first day of our trip was an eye opener. Mark showed the group how many humans used to eat, when hunting was not an option, by carving a piece of pine tree “under bark” for all of us to munch on. Not much can be said about how this tasted, other than it tastes exactly how you would think it would, like a tree
After our most interesting lunch, Mark took us deep into the St. Croix forest in an attempt to locate another tree known as a basswood. It was with this tree that Mark showed us how to make rope. I would never have suspected this seemingly useless looking tree could provide rope, something that our ancestors held in high esteem due to its many uses.
Experimenting with the basswood tree would eventually lead the group into our first night of the trip. A fire was made in order to keep ourselves warm from the crisp night that seemed to swallow us. It was here that the members of our group really began to fraternize with one another. Conversation of music and other such things filled the night despite the fact that I would have been content with complete silence providing the fire still kept ablaze. And so with a fresh new feeling of unity we retired to our tents only to be surrounded by our sleeping bags instead of the darkness through which our still burning fire shone like a beacon.
When I awoke the next morning, the smell of dew and wet earth stirred within my nose. While this was not unpleasant scent, the group and I felt more comfortable with the sweet aroma of French toast that greeted us when we arrived for breakfast.
Afterwards, our nature boy, Mark, informed us what we were to experience on this day. Naturally, when he told us he was going to show us how to stalk an animal, I had to hold back the comment that, if needed, I could refer my comrades to an old girlfriend who seemed to excel in that area.
All jokes aside, “stalking” immediately became a challenge. It required an amount of patience I could only compare to that of a three-legged turtle. In order for one to stalk something, one must crouch their head between their shoulders while hunching over with ones hands folded into one another and not at the sides of the body where they’ve made their home. It’s hard to recreate this image with words in a way that anyone but the writer could understand, but rest assured, had we been spotted by a stranger in our stalking poses he would have had something to laugh about.
With a newfound skill, we returned to the campsite in search of a new challenge. So Mark demonstrated how to make a fire without the use of matches or any other flame source. However, making fire was not nearly as easy as an experienced guide such as Mark could make it look and we were all disappointed that we could not make one ourselves by nightfall. I, however, quickly forgave myself after I sat by the fire that had been made with matches. After all, we actually had them, and therefore, we went to bed warmer than if I had none.
The third and final day was, to Mark, the most important activity of our trip for it was this day that our group would experience the sweat lodge. At heart a homemade sauna, the sweat lodge provided a place for us to have one final reflection as a whole on our trip. It was a bonding experience unlike many I have had. There, surrounded by old tent tarps, so as to hold in all the steam, I got to see the members of my group not as the classmates I had begun the trip with, but rather the friends with which I would finish it.
With the sweat lodge over with, we were left to take down the tents that we had slept in the past two nights. There was a solemn realization among the group that now our trip was over, and with it, the reality that we had created. Now that we had to return to school, our group would separate, as it must; with each individual returning to their designated cliques in a never ending turmoil to find the acceptance that we as teenagers can never fully grasp and therefore never stop trying to. And yet, I know that each person that went on the Mark Warren trip found that acceptance from each other as we sat in that sweat lodge on that last day. More importantly though, those three days I spent on the St. Croix river forest in Wisconsin taught me to accept myself. And I think that’s why the Mark Warren trip is as popular as it is amongst us Mini-Schoolers. What I came back with from that trip can’t be taken nor sold like so many things in life we value. That is why, no matter what, it will always be treasured.