Like the pond, my serenity is rippled but not ruffled." Thoreau's words from Walden danced through my head as I gazed through the pines at Storr's Pond. The chilly wind sent sparks through my consciousness, but it didn't bother me. It charged on, wild and free, and that can never be bad.
After one of those all-too-familiar weeks of unending stress, I had finally hopped on my bike and pedaled away from the mayhem. Though without a clear destination in mind, I knew I had to get out of Hanover. Quaint and charming as it may be, sometimes I get overwhelmed. Bricks, bricks everywhere. I need trees! This is how I ended up at Oak Hill on a blustery afternoon, sitting in the grass, listening to the wind, content.
Dartmouth pushes students to their limits. In the long run, that's fortunate for each of us. It strengthens our discipline, challenges our work ethic and instills an appreciation for fine scholarship. In the short run, however, it can drive us insane. When the grind reaches a crescendo, take a break and enjoy the fresh New Hampshire air. People shell out big bucks to gawk at the leaves, ski on the mountains and frolic in the lakes each year. Granted, we're not exactly here for free, but the scenery is an added bonus. You short yourself by not soaking it up.
Most students enjoyed their Dartmouth Outing Club trips. Most vowed not to lose touch with the North Country. Most haven't seen a trail or river since. Buck the trend! Let your boots carry you someplace other than class and Webster Avenue. One need not scale Mount Washington or conquer the Grant's whitewater to appreciate Hanover's natural surroundings. As I found this week, there are untamed places within walking distance (and I don't mean Moosilauke for you 24-hour hiking fiends).
Lying prostrate on the bank of Storr's Pond, watching the clouds scud overhead, I remembered why I love this place. There are seven other Ivy League colleges. Other schools dance around big fires (maybe), and some even eat green eggs and ham (bear with me here). None, however, can equal Dartmouth for location. It sets us apart from our pitiable colleagues in New Haven and West Philadelphia. Where else is your likelihood of getting gored by a bull moose higher than that of getting shot? The granite of New Hampshire offers a regenerative healing power to those who take the time to try.
I shuffled my way around the pond, schussing through the leaves and smiling uncontrollably. Chipmunks, red squirrels, bluejays and a fearless porcupine chattered or stared as I passed by. With each footstep, each breath of crisp air, I felt the pressures of the week slide away. Equations and declensions have no place here. Nature reigns supreme. Man, water, trees and sky trading whispers and cleansing spirits. Like a huge washing machine, the woods leave me sparkling and ready to tackle the world. I rode back to campus feeling like I was eight years old again. Pedaling furiously, with my hair swept back, racing the darkness to my dinner. That feeling of euphoria seems to grow rarer as we grow older.
I put this forth as a sort of invitation, though it's hardly mine to offer. Take some time at the end of the week or after class, and go for a walk. Whether it's around Occom Pond, up to Velvet Rocks or to the College Grant, truly enjoy the outdoor benefits of being at Dartmouth. It is always a bit disheartening to hear people say, "And you chose to go there?!?!," when we explain that Hanover is two and a half hours from Boston. Prove them wrong. Show that location is actually Dartmouth's most valuable and most defining single characteristic. I leave you with a word of caution: If while visiting Storr's Pond you see a lone figure slouched in the glider at the end of the promontory, don't ruffle his serenity. He's probably stressed.
