Geography of the James (Earth Lodge)

The Gambles Mill Corridor borders the exclusive Country Club of Virginia, where to my surprise, golfers can still tee off in mid-January. The trail began with the university community garden, wood chips, chopped trees, and mulch, but quickly transitioned into a more natural setting. Woven clusters of vines were spattered with leaves and fallen branches lined the trailside thereafter.

I spent most of my time exploring a small stream that snaked its way through the woods. Two drainage pipes fed the stream and its cool waters moved through sand bottomed pools and rocky riffles. The tightly packed leaves driven upon the rocks were indicative of the stream swelling from the previous day’s rain. Following the current, I came upon wild chives on the embankment. The distinct smell immediately reminded me of the herbs my family grows in our backyard every year. Deeper into the woods, I came upon what looked like a well or maybe a raised flowerbed. It contained one metal rung and was only a foot or so deep, which made me unable to distinguish its original purpose. Its bricks and cement were weathered with moss, rocks, and leaves having taken over the interior of the structure. It appeared as if the woods were reincorporating the “well” back into its domain. Subtle hints of human presence could also be seen in the stream by the well. Old clay-colored pipes made a small dam and formed a broad pool. Only upon noticing the pipes, did I realize how much the bank wall had risen from less than a foot to at least four feet. It was startling how quickly the riverbank rose in the course of a hundred feet.

Just as astonishing, was the trash I saw along the way. Amidst thorny bushes lay crushed beer cans and in the distance, I saw plastic bottles. On my way out, I even spotted a wayward golf ball and Westhampton/Richmond College cup. Eventually, a series of storms and flooding could eventually flush the trash into the stream and enter the watershed. On a warm day, I hope to go out with a trash bag and collect the junk I passed on my way out. Maybe with some help? I hope to make the stream near the well my place to revisit during the spring and, if not, just make it a little cleaner.

Where the stream begins...

One of the interesting things about the Gambles Mill Trail is the juxtaposition between the two environments that border the trail. On one side is a natural area. On the opposite side of the trail is a golf course which is one of the most artificial human constructs in existence. For one, the whole concept of a lawn is unnatural. Before the area was “civilized,” grasses were untrimmed and existed only in sparse meadows. In its place were vast forests, many of which were cut down to power industrialization and clear space for humans to build things. Perhaps this is the reason why the grass on this course is always yellow and dead; it is unnatural for this environment and requires a costly maintenance plan, not to mention the species of grass is non-native and originated in Europe. The golf courses that have lush green grass consume a lot of resources and human effort to maintain whereas a forest in its natural state will sustain itself without outside intervention.
What I see in this area is nature thriving when left to its own devices on one side of a pathway, and on the other side of the path I see a golf course struggling to imitate the natural beauty that is so close, an endeavor which is destined to fail. Even life forms in the area avoid the golf course. Three cardinals hover around the dead grass but never advance beyond the border and onto the course. This is more proof that nature is bigger than any one species, no matter how and powerful it may be. It may not be as humbling as seeing the power of the oceans, or seeing the summits of vast mountains from the ground, but it is still another example of the power of nature. Seeing the failure of the golf course is one more example that helps me realize that our attempts to create order in a chaotic universe are futile.

My first impression of the Gambles Mill Trail does in fact reflect many aspects of life at Richmond and our greater role as both manipulators and protectors of our natural resources. The trail is a paved, 0.5 mile course that runs along the border of a golf course and leads to River Road. From about a quarter of the way down the trail, you can see the tall exhaust tower of the University power plant, the perfectly maintained patch of grass which is the University “community garden,” three varieties of compose piles, and a small stream. The further down the trail you travel, the less modern life seems to interfere with nature—fallen trees are left on the ground and become home to hundreds of flying green insects, while the sound of cars swerving around the bend in the road become less distinct. Even the smell of the air seems to be sharper and clearer compared to the warm, humidified air we are used to inhaling in our classrooms.

While it seems that manipulation of natural resources is necessary for our modern lifestyle and activities, exemplified by the meticulously maintained carpet of grass on which the golfers play, an area like the Gambles Mill Corridor does force me to acknowledge that this desire encroaches on natural space (even natural space which we try to preserve). That being said, with so many people of all ages learning the value of the beauty of nature especially through increased interest in outdoor activities like biking, running, and rock climbing, I hope that these spaces will begin to be valued anew.

One week later…

After going on a guided tour of the Gambles Mill Corridor I realized the full potential of that little, run-down path. Professor Lookingbill told our class about the Corridor possibly becoming a quick and easily accessible way for students to travel to Pony Pasture. Quite honestly this idea thrilled me. Even though I have access to a car, I often wish I could feel more connected to the natural parklands of Richmond. On a near 60 degree day like today, it would be incredible to simply walk a mile or so to reach the woods of Pony Pasture. However, even if this vision is never realized I, through this class, have discovered a new place to explore tiny streams, walk around in the mud, and enjoy a little bit of trail right here on campus.

Gambles Mills was a therapy session for me. It’s amazing how a hectic week can be so obsolete once you walk away from it. The Richmond bubble was officially skewered the moment I walked on the trail. Those 45 mins took me away from the stress of academic and social life here at UR and put me in a place where I felt more in my element than I have in a long time: the Golf Course. More about that later; let’s talk about NATURE!

The first thing I notice as I stop mid stride on the trail is the extreme juxtaposition it displays in terms of two very different environments on either side of the trail. To the West there was forest, to the East was one of the most beautiful golf courses Virginia has to offer. I look to the West. I see mangled trees fighting for space, dead trees thrown to decay, and hear the soft trickle of a creek that has been muffled by the ever growing pile of woodland debris. Maybe it’s just me, but I preferred to look to the East towards the BEAUTIFUL Country Club of Virginia. It was gorgeous. As an avid golfer pre-college, I simply could not resist a closer look.

I took a quick look at my attire: kakis and a fleece. Done. My outfit had turned into the finest camouflage one could have for the environment I was daring to enter; I felt like a chameleon. Did I dare enter? Is that even a question?!

I took a few cautious steps onto the course and was instantly excited. My pulse quickened and my senses became aware to very specific things such as ground wetness, wind speed, wind direction, and the wind action at the pin about 200 yards down the fairway. I was home. I was in the jungle baby- my jungle. I took a few minutes to soak in the absolute gorgeous nature of the course: the fairways were cut to 1/3 inch (PGA grade) and, judging from this, the greens almost certainly have the possibility to run as fast as they want. I sought higher ground to take in my surroundings further. As I approached my destination, I noticed other members of the jungle- a few 13 year olds whose swings needed much maturing. I quickly lost interest in their doings and sought to ensure my own survival. I honed in my senses and instincts from built up experience in said ‘jungle’ and quickly identified the one resource I needed to survive (at least for the short term): Water. I saw the water dispenser I was looking for from almost 400 yards away. It was just a speck from my view upon the hilltop, but I knew very well what it was. I continued to look around and saw a pavilion most likely installed so that golfers can quickly take shelter from a fast approaching thunder storm or downpour. To me, it was shelter. I was set. From a hunter/gatherer standpoint, I was home. The jungle had everything I needed for survival; I was ready to be king.

Too bad we had to go back to class.

This past Thursday was the first meeting of our Earth Lodge class! And in true Earth Lodge fashion, we ventured outside to the Gambles Mill Trail. The trail is located in-between the golf course and the intramural fields at the University of Richmond and connects the campus to the intersection of Huguenot and River Road. Charged with the task of writing our first blog entries we all hurried up the path, eyes peeled for something interesting to write about. However, this did not last long for me, as I soon found myself focusing on one tree, bush, stream, etc., and searching my brain for something interesting to say about it, while missing out on the rest of the trail. So instead I decided to put my pen down and just walk. At the opening of the trail I noticed a tall tree, cleanly severed at about 40 feet up. I began thinking to myself, “What happened to the rest of the tree? Why was it cut so cleanly? And why so high up? Oh well, don’t want to miss out on the rest of the trail, I guess I’ll just continue on.” Next, I noticed the golf course to my left. Although brown, it was perfectly manicured and blocked off from intruders by barbed wire. I could not help thinking about how much more time and effort must go into maintaining the course than does for the corridor that I was walking along, which was littered with candy bar wrappers and plastic bottles. Next, I came across some dead leaves on the side of the path spray painted bright blue. I thought perhaps this was to mark the trail, but could not see why this was necessary as the path was paved and pretty hard to miss. Finally, the last thing that caught my eye was a series of tire tracks through the mud on the side of the trail. That’s when it hit me. Unfortunately, all of the things I had been noticing were not natural, but rather due to the uninvited influence of man. Then I began thinking specifically about the tire tracks. Just as the tracks of any animal would, they told me that something had been there and left its mark. However, I realized that unlike other animals, our tracks aren’t necessarily left by our feet. Rather, we have a different kind of footprint – one of tire tracks, severed trees, manicured hills, and barbed wire. This got me thinking about how we leave our mark. Do we leave places the same way we find them, or in a much worse condition? I know these are quite philosophical musings for just our first walk down the trail, but I couldn’t help but let my mind wander. Maybe I should escape from the structure of college life and get outside just to wander and think more often. Maybe we all should.

The human footprint

Time and time again, I fall in love with Virginia after a good rain.  The earth is soaked and dark and when it’s warmed by the sun, the heavy scent of layer upon layer of rock, sand, and soil, leaves, branches, trunks, and stems wafts up on waves of undulating humidity.  This is not the type of landscape to stand in distant awe of, but one that draws you in to its teeming center. 

On Thursday we left the classroom to drift about the Gambles Mill Corridor.  The Corridor is a small trail that’s tucked away along the boundary between the Virginia Country Club and the University of Richmond campus and, unlike its pristinely well-maintained neighbors, is refreshingly overgrown and boasts all the best of Virginia’s characteristic tangles of woody vegetation.  As we walked, I came across a creek lined with pebbles and sand surrounded on both sides by tall earthen walls.  Standing ankle-deep in the cold water of yesterday’s rain, I fell in love again as I have before. 

When we fall in love, we seek to discover all that we can about the object of our affections.  In order to properly care for who or what we love, we must know them and what it is they need to prosper.  Falling in love with a biosphere is no different.  Living in Virginia makes it easy to feel connected to the environment, but remembering to carry out the obligations that respecting this connectivity necessitates is not as easy.  As much as we love the Earth, the technologies and practices that facilitate and accompany human existence at the expense of our natural world are difficult to renounce, and we grow neglectful.  It’s for this reason that the study of geography and environmental sciences is paramount because the more we learn about our environment, the more mindful we can become and the more we’ll remember to respect the connection. 

Check out the perfect soundtrack for this day.