Conservancy News

Four Generations on the Delaware

Our father, Don, took my brother Steve and me on an overnight canoe trip on the Delaware in 1961. We started at the confluence of the east and west branches; Dad still calls that place, “the wedding of the waters.” 

With the farmer’s permission, we camped around sunset near Callicoon, on the New York side of the river. A curious bear paid us a brief visit, then went on his way. The next morning, we shot the rapids at Skinner’s Switch (“don’t call it Skinner’s Falls!”). My mother picked us up early that summer afternoon at the Big Eddy in Narrowsburg. We were tired, but we were hooked.

Fifty years have gone by, and the river has barely changed. In all the world, it’s still the place I love the best. My own children are grown now, and a day on the river has always been a day of wonder for them, too. On a beautiful summer day this past July, a dream came true. My son Max and I took his son, Greg, out on the big river. We’d been talking about it for a long time, but he’s only three and we wanted perfect conditions. Well, we got them: golden sunshine, clear water, 2000cfs. It was the best day of summer 2011. In the middle of the afternoon, we pulled up on the Pennsylvania shore among smooth rocks, high grass, and forget-me-knots. Greg learned how to cup his hands to hold pollywogs. No knotweed in sight.

As I stood knee-deep in the water with my son and my grandson, the world around us felt like a perfect place. Indeed, the river has barely changed. Now and then in our lifetimes, we seem able to reach toward a higher understanding; a knowledge of what is truly valuable. To do this, your best bet is to stand in the river. The water that flows by represents all that has happened in our four-county watershed. The river is ground-zero for our quality of life. It is the incontrovertible litmus, the ultimate indicator, the final arbiter of all that happens upstream, along its banks, and in the lands and waters that directly contribute in their diverse ways to its flow. The river is the final page of every story that takes place in the entire watershed. If the river is in good shape, then so are we. We are free to love it, to share in it, to indulge our capacity for wonder as we swim, fish, canoe or hike its banks.

My big questions are these: After fifty more years have flowed by, will my grandson, Greg, stand knee-deep in our perfect river teaching his own grandchild to hold a pollywog? Do we appreciate our opportunity and understand our responsibility to protect our river and our watershed for the future, for the generations whose lives it will sustain, and who deserve to know its wonder?  

By Conservancy Member and Volunteer, Scott VanGorder