#paddler the beaver

[lihiominaa]

The Wild Robot 2024, dir. Chris Sanders

[messonthematt]

[diabloindigo]

“You’re in trouble, and you need my tree!”

[oonajaeadira]

That Awoooo Inside You, Pt. 2

Fandom: The Wild Robot / Fink the Fox

Pairing: Fink <3s OFC fox Farrah

Rating: G all the way, don’t worry. This is keeping in the world and disgustingly wholesome. Prolly too clean for tumbles 😆

Warnings: None. It’s for cuteness and for heart.

Summary: After the events of The Wild Robot, a new resident joins the island. She’s a little withdrawn and Fink finds out why.

A/N: This chapter is mainly for @brandylyn because it means so much to me that she wants to read a simple story about a little yearning fox.

PART 1

For the past many mornings Fink had woken to an empty hut, the little heap of leaves near the door where Farrah preferred to sleep flattened and empty. As much as he knew he could just track her by scent, it wasn’t necessary anymore. He knew where she was.

And his heart sank a little. 

He’d been hoping for the day when he’d wake to find her still sleeping, at peace, or the night where she’d fall asleep before him, comfortable in her new home. But her ears always remained alert, feigning sleep into the night, and she was gone by first light.

Not that she wouldn’t come back to join him for meals or to play fast-as-the-wind with the possum kids. But he supposed she went to the cove in the morning for the same reason she slept near the door.

Hoping to catch a whiff of home.

There’d been two full moons since Farrah came to the island and she adjusted fast to their strange way of life. She wasn’t as hard driven by hunger as some of the other animals and gained from their talks that was because food had been more scarce where she was from and she was patient when it came to waiting for meals. Fish and shellfish had already been a big part of her diet. 

So she must have come from another island…but Fink couldn’t be sure. Anytime he’d ask more about it, she’d change the subject or go quiet. And she was very very good at being quiet. Probably had to learn that with fur like hers. It’s a wonder she made it to maturity without proper camouflage. Silence and speed would be her only options.

Except when she laughed. She laughed loud and high, almost a cry when she was really going. Farrah was easy to amuse and he made sure to do so whenever he had the chance. He wanted to see her happy and settled here. With him.

And he just liked to hear her laugh. Nobody laughed at his jokes like she did.

“That is the look of a lovelorn fox,” Paddler dryly declared one day, turning away to scrape away at a massive trunk with his crooked incisors. Fink had just cracked a joke at a squirrel’s expense–and not a clever one either, something about the size of nuts–and Farrah had laughed before bounding off after a butterfly. The beaver’s remark made Fink realize that he was wearing a dopey grin and he shook it off, but not before Paddler added, “Be direct. Build her a dam to show how you feel.”

“I’m not going to give her a dam.”

“But I’m telling you, fine fellow. We may be swimming among the trees as a pike in the waters of the river, yet the ladies still love a good bit of worked wood. You have that home–a good design, said because, as you will remember it is mine–but a little riverside palace of her own? Eh? What a treat.”

Fink rolled his eyes, playing cavalier. “It’s not like that. We’re–” over in the near clearing, Farrah’s fur sparkled white in the sinking sun, her head tilting side to side as she watched two butterflies dancing, trying to pick up on their whispers, quiet and still….and beautiful. “--friends.”

“Ha!” Paddler choked on a laugh. “You fool no one, sir. Just give her a treasure and be done with it. I’m telling you a dam always does the job, but I suppose you must do as your ilk do.” 

“Is that why there's no Mrs. Paddler?”

“Oh ho! I have had my salacious share of affairs, I assure you. My dams are well-given and wide spread. I am focusing on other projects at the moment,” he boasted with a grand gesture towards his gnarled tree, and turned back to his gnawing.

But Fink hadn’t let the beaver’s advice sift completely to the background and after a particularly good day of digging holes for grubs and laying in the sun-warmed grass, it was Farrah herself that completed the thought.

“Okay. You get to take one feature from any other animal and add it to your own. What are you stealing?” Fink rolled on his back, belly to the sun, black paws bent and hanging lazily.

“Uhhhhh,” she sighed. “Mayyyyybe racoon paws?”

He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Ugh. Really? You’d lose your ability to run fast.”

“Yeah, but where am I gonna run here?” she smiled, teasing, and his tail twitched hopefully. “And I bet they’re useful for arranging bedding and…holding fish…and…oh! I bet urchins would be so much easier to crack open, no more getting spines in my jowls…”

“Wait!” He flipped to his stomach then, his claws digging in the dirt, eager to run, eager to share the idea that had just come to him, ready to bound and yip but controlling himself–she was skittish if he was too bouncy–”You like urchins??”

“Of course. Do they live here? I’ve never found any.”

“Come on. I gotta show you something,” and he took off running with the breeze at his back, which carried the information that she was following and keeping up with him as he made his way through the trees and down the sloping landscape to the shore. 

Running straight for the goose flats, he turned abruptly at the shoreline and went crashing though some bushes until they came to a bluff wall. But instead of coming to a halt, Fink took a leap, knowing which ledges were wide enough to hold him, and which led out to the sea. From there, he was able to round the corner to a small cove. With the tide out, it was a completely isolated beach, not even a sand bird or seagull.

“Welcome to the northern most point of the island,” he explained with a sweep of the paw. “When I don’t wanna dig clams to a soundtrack of honks, I come out here. The tide leaves little treats too. Cockles, a dead fish, sometimes an eel. Sometimes though–” he scanned the stretch of beach, his heart skipping at the sight of a dark little blob, “--there! Urchin!”

Dashing over, he sniffed at it and, finding it still fresh, held it down with one paw and expertly cracked its underside open with his teeth. Then he sat back high and proper, very proud of himself, and offered the feast to her with a flourish. “Madame.” Surely this would be it. This cove was his little secret, his treasure to give her. And serving up delicacies with humor? He just wanted to make her smile…

But Farrah had stopped nearby, distracted, her strange eyes–one light, one dark–searching the sea, her nose activated, taking in the air.

“Uh…Farrah?” Snapping to, she closed the distance, and Fink cocked his head. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, of course. I just caught a whiff of–” she fought off a glance to the sea. “It doesn’t matter. Oh wow! The urchins are huge here!”

“Yeah,” he chuckled nervously. “It’s a specialty here. You’re gonna love the recipe. This one’s for you. Dig in.” As she did, Fink turned fully toward the water and scanned the horizon, trying to see what had caught her attention but found no scents or sights out of the ordinary. “This place is a little secret of mine, but you’re welcome to it anytime.”

“It’s nice here. Quiet.” She licked her jowls, taking in the last morsels of the delicacy. He still hadn’t turned from the sea and just as he meant to ask what had pulled her attention, she surprised him by coming to sit beside him, not just near him, but right beside him, shoulder to shoulder, flank to flank. “Thank you.”

Success. He sat still, paralyzed, trying to keep his heartbeat from racing, his tail from twitching. She liked his gift, she liked his shared treasure, he could feel his paws wanting to happy tap in the sand and the springs of his hips wanting to leap in triumph.

But still he sat. Because she had finally come closer and he knew even a twitch would send her just out of reach again, no matter how badly he wanted to curl his tail around her–not only to warm her but to protect–his foxy instincts running high.

But still he kept sitting, as long as he could, watching her from the corner of his eye as she sniffed the wind and seemed to be relaxing around him.

Not long after that, she was gone in the mornings and he’d track her here to this cove and peek around the bluff wall to find her sitting in almost the same spot, looking out toward the sea. The first day he’d found her, he’d startled her and she ran off in a flash, not coming home until after dark.

After that he left her be and went back to the goose flats for breakfast. She’d join him soon enough and say nothing about it, smiling as if all was fine. But she never sat so close to him again and she still slept every night with perked ears near an escape route.

After a while though, he tried a different tactic. He came out into the cove and sat at the shore as she did–quiet and still–only still very far away. He’d let her pick up his scent before moving closer and sitting nearby, matching her gaze to the sea, and they would sit in silence for a short moment before she would perk up as if all was well and backtrack to the wall and therefore getting on with the day, nothing more about her alone time to be said.

Until today. Poking his head around the bluff he found Farrah on her feet, trotting up and down a short length of the shore, eyes on the far, far horizon…and then he noticed the smell.

Snow.

There was an iceberg far out to sea, not unusual for late spring on some years, but not altogether common either. They never came close and were often in and out of sight within a morning. This one was drifting further away and Fink watched as Farrah tracked it going, looked after it even when it was too far to be seen or smelled, finally sitting with a little sigh and sink of the head.

And then he understood.

One recent night they’d been looking up at the stars and Fink had pointed out The Great Crack in the Sky, his friend Roz had told him its name was Cassiopeia, whatever that means. That’s when she told him that in her home, they called that group of stars The Iceberg Edge. The elders of her pack used it to teach kits not to go out onto the ice when they saw the pattern of this constellation on the ground, because it meant the ice was breaking up and going out to sea. 

This is how she came here, she told him, caught on a piece of spring ice that broke away during a clutch of warm days. It drifted too far out to sea for anyone to hear her howling. When it was almost melted out from under her, she was lucky enough to swim to a piece of debris and huddle on it for a few days until there was an upset and she was in the water again and the next thing she knew she was waking up in the hut with a bear blocking the exit.

It seemed like yesterday and ages ago all together.

Once she noticed him sitting down the beach, this time he moved closer and sat quietly for a little bit before speaking slow and low.

“You…miss your home, huh.” As he expected, she only blinked down at the sand, and his ears fell to a droop. But she wasn’t running off or changing the subject. Maybe if she wasn’t ready to talk, she might be okay with listening. Fink swallowed, realizing he was about to say some things out loud for the first time. “I felt the same way when I came to this part of the island. My mom kicked me out pretty early and I was run off before I could really learn the ropes. It took me a long time to forgive her. I know now that it wasn’t her first choice, that there were too many males and not enough females so I guess she was afraid I’d get targeted. But I was pretty darn lonely for a long time.”

“What changed?”

His breath caught as she spoke up, but he managed to recover and answer. “I found friends. Really amazing friends. I hope that for you too. It seems like you’re off to a good start. Especially if you keep giving Pinktail a break from her spawn.”

At least she cracked half a smile before letting it fade again. “Friends don’t replace family.”

“No, not replace. But they can become another kind of family. I have proof.” He’d told her enough about Roz and Brightbill, and Thorn spent enough time in the hut that he knew she understood. “But I’d like to hear about your family…” and here he couldn’t help himself, his self-interests creeping in as he tested his chances, “...I assume you mean your mate and kits…”

Here Farrah gave him a look so sudden, so bewildered and distressed that he was about to ask her if he’d overstepped, but instead, that laugh of hers broke out, although not as loudly as usual. 

“I was talking about my mother and siblings. They were my whole world. They had to be. The food was scarce so the families were spread out and…well. Mate? That’s… I’m obviously nobody’s first choice, I mean, just look..” She stuck out her tongue and made a silly face, tilting her head from side to side. 

Fink could only blink, perplexed.

The breeze picked up, but the scent of snow was only a memory now, the water a flat line. Farrah’s nose pointed down to the sand again, her half smile diminishing by half again for a moment. Fink leaned forward, words starting to bubble up, words he thought he’d never get to say to another fox. But before he could say what he’d been holding down, she shook off the mood and feebly tried to make it a non-issue, abolishing the silence between them.

“Have I ever told you how my sister once head-butted an elephant seal?”

“Ah…no. Really?”

“Really!”

“Huh. What’s…an elephant seal?”

“It’s–oh! Sometimes I forget…of course you wouldn’t know...!” Then that laugh again, launching into the story, starting with an impression of the seal–although if it was a good impression or not, he couldn’t tell having never seen one. But he knew somehow by her laughter that it was. She was suddenly back to normal, comfortable to be herself when it was only the two of them in this little hidden cove.

No mate. She had no mate. This was good news. For him. But sad for her. That is, if she wanted one. What if she didn’t–? Wait. What did she mean by that? That nobody would choose her? Because of her fur? Because she was a runt? Maybe that made sense in a place where she would have to hide from predators, but she wouldn’t have to do that here. And even if it was necessary, he could protect her…probably. If she wanted that... Even so, she’d be okay. If he learned anything from Brightbill it was that sometimes the will to survive past nature’s plan for you makes you even more likely to outlive everyone else.

He could certainly feel nature’s plan working on him and thought with a little grin that he would gladly give up a longer life for that plan to work out….

But Farrah was speaking, talking about her family, their annual rounds from point to point in their territory, how she and her sisters used to share everything and hide and pop out to scare their mother and she would do her very best to act frightened. And the nights dancing under the green light curtains! Had he ever seen the shifting lights in the night sky? He had to admit he hadn’t. So he put his wonderings aside and laid down in the sand, crossing his paws and listened, learned, and bathed in the light of her widening trust. They had all day until the tide came back in. And Fink had no need to be anywhere but here.

He hoped in time, she would feel the same.

___

PART 3

SERIES MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

[tranquilskies2]

Rozfink love confession headcanons

-If the confession occurred while Brightbill was a juvenile-

In this scenario, Brightbill gets to witness his parent's love confession right in front of his face. After all, the only company he have at that moment are his parents. For this scenario, Brightbill was the equivalent of a 12 year old human child.

This version of the love confession occurred around early summer night. The location is at a lake, where Roz built the first boat for them to use for the lake. Roz planned the boat trip, but not the confession itself. Roz isn't sure how or why but she had an extremely strong great feeling about this particular night.

Fink & Brightbill being on a boat is ofc an entirely new experience for the both of them. Floating on a huge piece of wood in the water? With extremely low chances of drowning? sign me up! With a homemade lantern and a paddle, Roz guided her son & closest friend around the lake. Good thing most other animals are asleep during this time. Nocturnal animals simply just avoided them. Luckily, no one is around to ruin their lovely boat trip.

The full moon & starry sky guiding Roz, the crickets & frogs nearby chirping & croaking melodies, the steady quiet flow of the lake, flock of fireflies illuminating the land and waters, can't this get any more perfect!? Roz's heart can't help but rival a firefly's glow upon seeing Fink & Brightbill enjoying the sights around them. For a while, the family chatted about the fun things they did for the day.

At some point, Roz & Fink began talking deeply about their feelings. Of course, both of them initially struggled. Upon seeing Fink tenderly caring for Brightbill and making sure that he doesn't fall off the boat, much to the shock of all three, Roz took the massive leap. Without thinking, she confessed. After that, there was a moment of silent. Roz processing on what she just did, Fink trying to process what Roz just told him and Brightbill's own personal theories about his parents coming true: they'll become a couple.

After Roz reaffirmed Fink that she meant what she just said, she just went in and have her face gently touch Fink's snout. Another moment of the two silently gazing into each other's eyes. Roz was about to panic when she realized she doesn't have a mouth to kiss Fink with. That thought immediately disappeared when Fink licked her where her mouth would've been if she had one.

Brightbill can't help but squeal in delight upon this tender exchange of love happening right in front of his eyes. He couldn't believe that it's all happening. His parents getting together. Romantically. Him being happy for his parents is a massive understatement. An absolute core memory for him.

Later that night, the family slept in a cuddle pile together. Of course, Roz & Fink exchanged goodnight kisses before falling asleep for that night.

If the confession occurred after Roz returned to the island.

Unfortunately for Brightbill, he won't get to witness his parent's love confession since he'll be hanging out with his friends at the time. Doesn't help the fact that Roz didn't know that he'll be at one of his friends' sleepovers for the day. However, Roz couldn't take these feelings any longer and Brightbill is a man now.

This type of confession occurred two weeks after Roz returned to the island. Roz didn't want to be too obvious with her confession, so she just simply planned for the day to go as normal then have the confession occur at sunset on the cliff side.

The day went on as normal. Helping two beavers settle a dispute, building new nests for some birds, finding a raccoon mother's lost pup, ect. However, others can't help but notice some developing romantic tension between the robot & the fox. Many whisper such observations in hushed tones. Majority expressed with curiosity and support for this potential new pair on the island. Although, a few expressed with disdain and disapproval for an unusual pair. Only Paddler, Pinktail & even Thorn vocally voiced their own hints towards Roz & Fink.

Paddler confronts Fink while Pinktail confronted Roz. However, both Fink & Roz initially denied. What really pushed Roz & Fink near the edge is Thorn grudging them strongly. Some other animals did make some comments, but didn't express so outwardly like Paddler or Pinktail.

At the cliff side, Roz & Fink watched the sunset together. For a while, there was awkwardness between them. Of course they'll usually hang out at the cliff side before Roz left the island, but this one just...felt so...different. Things started to get gritty and deep from here. It took a while for them to be serious about their deeply harbored feelings for each other.

As planned, Roz is the one who confessed. Fink couldn't help but be in such an awe and shock on the confession. So many thoughts racing back into his mind. From the moment the first met, to raising Brightbill together, to Roz leaving the island and then Roz coming back. Fink tearfully reciprocated.

Before Roz could react, Fink leaped in to initiate the first kiss between them. Roz certainly didn't plan that! However, she's more than happy to returning the gesture in her own way by leaning forward with such gentle force.

As they broke apart from the kiss, the sun has set. The two happily chatted more with Fink in Roz's lap until the moon rose & the sky is filled with stars. Then, the two stargazed, finding themselves & Brightbill in the sky among constellations. For the first time in forever, Roz & Fink decided not to sleep in their den for the night. Instead, they'll sleep cuddled up to each other under a bed of stars on the cliff side.

[azertyrobaz]

Another drabble inspired by The Wild Robot, which I'm still so enamored with. Here’s a small story about Fink and Roz.

As always, prompts are here if you want to have a look. And the ao3 collections is located there.

************

It was the first Winter since Roz had returned. It wasn’t even that cold of a Winter, but many animals had decided to spend it in the robot’s company, rather than rely on their own shelters. Even if it meant missing out on some hibernation time. She still had a lot of stories to tell, and everyone wanted to catch up.

The islanders had given her some space at first, so that she could spend precious time with her immediate family, but the migrating birds had now departed, including Brightbill and his flock. This meant there was no reason to hold back anymore, Fink realized: everybody was allowed to crowd her and pester her and being an all-around nuisance.

The fox tried – and failed – not to show his irritation. He was immediate family, Roz was his best friend, he should be given priority. He’d barely had time to ask her how she’d managed to make her way home and describe all the things she had seen and discovered and THEN tell her about all the things he had seen and discovered on the island while she wasn’t there.

This situation was utterly unfair.

Sure, he didn’t mind sharing his home during the Winter months, and even enjoyed some of the time spent with the animals who had become his friends – the kids especially. But Roz had returned, now. And she was his best friend. Back in the day, it used to be just him and Roz and Brightbill. And now Fink was supposed to share her too?

Absolute male bovine excrement, as Paddler would say.

And speaking of the beaver, surely Roz had seen his art collection by now – he’d showed it to her quite extensively already, thank you.

“The details are really spot on,” the robot repeated. “Although the scale is inaccurate.”

“That’s just artistic –”

“ – artistic license, yes, we know!” grumbled Fink.

No one seemed to be paying any attention to him and he rolled his eyes dramatically as more and more islanders hounded the robot. It was getting late! Couldn’t they go to sleep already? The fire was warm and his belly was full and he just wanted to curl up next to Roz until morning. Surely they should be able to understand that without him having to spell it out. Not that it would make much of a difference anyway since they barely seemed to notice he was there.

“I need to switch off for the night now,” Roz announced an eternity later, and Fink immediately perked up. Not because it meant he’d finally get his wish – no, it was because Roz was LYING! And quite beautifully, she’d made tremendous progress. The fox knew for a fact that her power core had been completely fixed. She didn’t have to rely solely on her solar panels anymore. And thus didn’t need to switch off.

The animals complained at first, but soon everyone had found their regular spot for the night.

“That was clever of you,” Fink praised from his own premium spot against the robot’s leg – he didn’t mind the coldness of the metal, he was used to it.

“I saw you were getting tired,” she replied.

He almost complained, but she wasn’t entirely wrong. Truth be told, he hadn’t been sleeping so well. He wasn’t exactly sure why – surely he should feel safe and content now that his best friend was back. And yet there was still a worry – a big one. What if she left again? Fink didn’t think he could handle it a second time. It was hard enough to have to say goodbye to Brightbill once a year already.

“Today is the day some humans call Christmas,” Roz interrupted his thoughts. Humans were the beings who had built Roz. The ones who had wanted to keep her until she’d managed to escape. Fink didn’t really like humans, but he was curious by nature, and wanted to learn more about them.

“What is Christmas?” he asked, settling more snuggly against his friend as the other animals around them slowly succumbed to sleep.

“It is a day of celebration, although I’m not sure what it is that the humans are celebrating. I think it has something to do with food – they eat a lot of it during that time.”

“Sounds like my kind of celebration,” Fink hummed.

“And also music. They have special songs for Christmas. Some of them are very pleasant, I think. They’ve added them to my memory bank.”

He liked this new and improved Roz. She had opinions. And tastes. But they still agreed on most things.

“Do you want me to play a few of them until you fall asleep?”

“Yes,” nodded Fink, closing his eyes.

[honor-cxde]

// i am tempted to make a multimuse of some of the animals in TWR.

Thunderbolt the falcon

Thorn the bear

maybe Paddler the beaver

possibly Fink and Brightbill

Pinktail possum...

[c0zmo-writes]

HOLY FUCK THE WILD ROBOT WAS SO GOOD.

I TEARED UP MULTIPLE TIMES.

THE MUSIC, THE VISUALS, THE ANIMATION, THE VOICE ACTING !!!! I LOVED IT!!!!! I would (and will) absolutely watch this again. Go watch this movie!!

Also @possum-quesadilla there was a character that reminded me so much of Larry. His name is Paddler. He’s a beaver.

[afdahinfomovies]

"The Wild Robot" is an incredibly fulfilling emotional journey

The flawless voice of Lupita Nyong'o is provided to ROZZUM 7314, a robot that falls into an empty island on Afdah. Roz is intended to be an assistant for whoever acquires her, so she first scours her new location for a master, hoping to perform any sort of assignment before she activates a signal to return home. These incredibly hilarious, heartfelt, and humorous opening sequences, which feature a robot frantically attempting to assist any creature in need, set the stage for what's to come. She encounters some of the more rowdy creatures in this isolated area on her travels, such as a grizzly bear named Thorn, a beaver named Paddler, an opossum named Pinktail, and a fox named Fink.

[officewebmaster315]

Exploring Nature's Serenity: The 10 Best Campsites for Paddle Boarding

Paddle boarding enthusiasts seek the perfect blend of adventure and relaxation, and what better way to achieve it than by camping amidst nature’s beauty? In this article, we’ll take you on a journey to discover the ten best campsites across the world that offer an unforgettable paddle boarding experience.

Lake Tahoe, California : Nestled in the Sierra Nevada mountains, Lake Tahoe offers pristine waters and breathtaking scenery. Campers can paddle along the crystal-clear lake, surrounded by snow-capped peaks. Popular campgrounds like Emerald Bay State Park make this a haven for paddle boarders.

Everglades National Park, Florida : For a unique paddle boarding adventure, head to the Everglades. Explore the lush, wild mangroves and waterways while camping at Long Pine Key Campground. Encounter exotic wildlife like manatees and alligators while gliding through tranquil waters.

Lake Powell, Arizona/Utah : Lake Powell’s surreal red rock formations and deep blue waters create a surreal paddle boarding experience. Camp at Lone Rock Beach Campground, where you can paddle through narrow canyons and explore hidden coves.

Isle Royale National Park, Michigan : This remote island in Lake Superior is a paradise for nature lovers. Campers can access pristine waters, ideal for paddle boarding, from campgrounds like Rock Harbor. Encounter moose, wolves, and beavers as you explore the park’s rugged coastline.

Acadia National Park, Maine : Acadia’s rugged coastline and clear waters offer an unforgettable paddle boarding experience. Camp at Blackwoods Campground and explore the dramatic cliffs, islands, and inlets while keeping an eye out for seals and eagles.

Lake Placid, New York : Surrounded by the Adirondack Mountains, Lake Placid is a serene spot for paddle boarding. Camp at the Lake Placid/Whiteface Mountain KOA and paddle on the calm waters, enjoying the reflection of the nearby peaks.

Lake of the Ozarks, Missouri : This man-made reservoir offers endless opportunities for paddle boarding. Camp at Lake of the Ozarks State Park and explore secluded coves, limestone bluffs, and vibrant foliage during autumn.

Apostle Islands National Lakeshore, Wisconsin : This national lakeshore is a paddler’s paradise. Camp at Little Sand Bay Campground and paddle among the iconic sea caves and pristine islands, making sure to witness the mesmerizing sea caves at Meyers Beach.

Torch Lake, Michigan : Known for its clear, turquoise waters, Torch Lake is a hidden gem in the Midwest. Camp at Torch Grove Campground and paddle on one of the clearest lakes in the world, surrounded by lush forests.

Glacier National Park, Montana : Camping at Many Glacier Campground in Glacier National Park allows you to paddle on pristine alpine lakes surrounded by towering peaks and glaciers. Enjoy the tranquil ambiance and abundant wildlife while paddle boarding.

These ten campsites offer a diverse range of paddle boarding experiences, from tranquil lakes to rugged coastlines. Whether you seek serenity or adventure, these destinations provide the perfect backdrop for your paddle boarding escapades. Embrace the beauty of nature and create unforgettable memories at these best campsites for paddle boarding.

[haisla-land-acknowledgment]

LYLE WILSON: KITAMAAT HAISLA ARTIST.

Lyle Wilson is a Haisla artist from British Columbia: born at C’idax (Butedale Cannery); spent his early years in Kitamaat Village; moved to the town-site of Kitimat from grade 4-9; then moved back to Kitamaat Village from grade 10-12; after graduating from Mount Elizabeth Secondary School, he worked at Alcan for a year before eventually moving to Vancouver to seek a post-secondary education at the University of British Columbia and the Emily Carr College of Art and Design.

The Haisla people are often referred to as Northern Kwakuitl, however their historic artistic style is, mainly, influenced by the Kwakuitl, Tsimshian, Bella Bella and Bella Coola. The name Kitamaat means “People of the Snow“; which refers to the large snow-fall  during the winters. Tsimshian guests who visited the Haisla in mid-winter arrived to see people emerging from traditional bighouses that were completely buried by the snow. Thus, the name Kitamaat was given to the Haisla.

The Haisla Clan system was originally matrilineal and, although he was born into the Beaver Clan, Lyle was formally adapted into his father’s Eagle Clan. Due to high death rates at that time, his Eagle grandmother adapted both Lyle and his sister to bolster the numbers of the Eagle Clan (his sister has now returned to the Beaver Clan).

“I was always aware, and appreciative, of Haisla art after seeing a few old carvings at village places/events. My first living artistic influence was my uncle Sam Robinson — a full-time carver who carved at a time-period when everyone assumed Pacific Northwest Coast carving was a dying art-form consigned to the past; consequently, there was no wide-spread recognition of Northwest Coast art as there is now.

I watched Sam and occasionally whittled to the best of my ability. I didn’t really seriously consider art as a profession until after attending the University of British Columbia — I enrolled, & completed, 5 years of the N.I.T.E.P. and Secondary Art Education programs.

I found time in the studio more interesting and eventually left UBC for further studies at the Emily Carr College of Art and Design (now the Emily Carr University of Art & Design). I graduated with a print-making diploma and began to try develop an individual artistic style — using my life experiences, formal education at UBC and ECUAD as the roots in all my art work: prints, wood carvings, paintings, drawings and gold/silver jewellery.

I also prefer working by myself, because I believe that the individual personality shows itself in the finished work — so I’m reluctant to involve others in my artistic projects unless absolutely necessary. Even the extra large carving I try to do mostly myself so I can keep my personality in my work.

I’m one of the few Pacific Northwest Coast artists fortunate to have an extensive formal, post-secondary education. I’m a life-long student/carver who has interests in numerous areas that — hopefully — enrich whatever work I produce.”

LYLE  WILSON. (c) 778-846-3520

SELECTED GROUP  & SOLO  EXHIBITIONS

2016: “HAISLAKALA: SPOKEN FROM THE HEART”: Nov. 5; solo jewellery exhibition at the Coastal Peoples Fine Arts Gallery, Vancouver, B.C.

“PAINT: THE PAINTED WORKS OF LYLE WILSON”: this solo show was shown at the following venues:

2016: Museum of Northern BC, Prince Rupert, B.C. 2014: Whatcom Museum’s Lightcatcher Gallery; Washington State, U.S.A. 2013: Kitimat Museum & Archives, Kitimat, B.C. 2013: Bill Reid Gallery, Vancouver, B.C. 2012: Maple Ridge Art Gallery, Maple Ridge, B.C.

2009: “CHALLENGING TRADITIONS: CONTEMPORARY FIRST NATIONS ART of the NORTHWEST COAST”: group exhibition at the McMichael Canadian Art Collection, Ontario.

2009: “NORTH STAR: THE ART OF LYLE WILSON”: solo exhibition at the West Vancouver Museum, West  Vancouver , B.C.

2004: “TOTEMS TO TURQUOISE”: group exhibition at the American Museum of Natural History, New York. ~ this exhibition also travelled to the Vancouver Museum in 2005

2004: “TOTEMS: SILENT MESSENGERS OF THE WEST COAST”: group exhibition at the Coastal Peoples Gallery, Vancouver, B.C.

2003: “NORTHWEST COAST COLLECTIONS”: group exhibition at the Inuit Gallery, Van., B.C.

2001: “RAVEN STORIES”: group exhibition at the Inuit Gallery, Van., B.C.

2001: “NORTHWEST INNOVATIONS: TRANSFORMING TRADITIONS”: group exhibition at the Evergreen Cultural Centre Art Gallery, Coquitlam, B.C.

2000: “TIME & TIDE”: group exhibition at the Inuit Gallery, Vancouver, B.C.

PUBLIC COMMISSIONS

2007: “ORCA CHIEF“ ~19 foot by 17 foot, water-jet cut, powder painted layered aluminum wall-sculpture at the Vancouver International Airport, Van..

1999:1) “KILLER WHALE“. 2) “DANCE FOR THE FIRST CATCH“. 3) “COASTAL SCENE“: 4 separate panels that make one whole scene. ~6 foot by 9 foot canvas screens at the Museum of Anthropology at UBC, Van..

1995: “THE PADDLER“. ~ 10 foot red cedar totem sculpture at the BC Sports Hall of Fame, Van..

1994: “EAGLE, FISH & BEAVER“. ~ 12 foot red cedar totem-sculpture, Canadian Consulate @ Osaka, Japan.

1993:1) “NOOMIS, THE BLIND MAN”. 2) “THE LOON”. 3) “SALMON“. 4) “SALMON“. 5) “GRIZZLY BEAR“. ~ 5 high relief carved, yellow cedar panels @ the Canadian Institute for the Blind, Vancouver, B.C..

1992: “GRIZZLY BEAR DANCER“. ~ motor-animated tranformation mask with costume for the B.C. Pavillion at Expo 1992, Seville, Spain. ~ now on display at the University of Northern British Columbia, Prince George, B.C..

1992: “EAGLE & BEAVER“. ~ 12 foot red cedar house-post sculpture @ the UBC First Nations House of Learning, Vancouver, B.C..

RELATED PROJECTS

1995: “HAISLA HOUSE-POST“. ~ 6 foot red cedar replicated carving of old artifact @ the Museum of Anthropology @ UBC — artist donated the carving to the Haisla Community School, Kitamaat Village, B.C..

1992: “EULACHON: A FISH TO CURE HUMANITY“. ~co-curated this catalogued exhibition documenting the historical & contemporary usage of the eulachon fish; opened @ the UBC Museum of Anthropology , Vancouver, B.C. .

1988: “IMAGE RECOVERY PROJECT“. ~using an infra-red camera, historical images were photographed, archived & replicated; this is the most intensive documentation of painted images of historical work undertaken to this date .

1987: “NORTHWEST COAST TRADITIONAL BIGHOUSE PROJECT “. ~ assistant co-ordinator/liaison for the planning, building of  6 different Northwest Coast Bighouses @ the UBC Museum of Anthropology; the bighouses were installed @ the Canadian Museum of Civilization, Quebec .

EDUCATION

1987: 5th Year, Secondary Art Education Department at the University of British Columbia, Vancouver, B.C..

1988: Graduated with diploma from the 4 Year Print-making Department at the Emily Carr College of Art and Design (now the Emily Carr University of Art & Design, Van., B.C..

1976-1979: Native Indian Teacher Education Program at the University of British Columbia, Van., B.C..

PUBLICATIONS

2012: “SEEKERS and TRAVELLERS: CONTEMPORARY ART of the PACIFIC NORTHWEST COAST” Gary Wyatt.

2012: “PAINT: THE PAINTED WORKS OF LYLE WILSON” Lyle Wilson.

2010: “THE TOTEM POLE: AN INTERCULTURAL HISTORY“ Aldona Jonaitis & Aaron Glass.

2004: “TOTEMS TO TURQUOISE: NATIVE NORTH AMERICAN JEWELLERY ARTS of the NORTHWEST and SOUTHWEST“ Kari Chalker, Lois S. Dubin, Peter M. Whitely; eds. .

COLLECTIONS

~ Royal British Columbia Museum. ~Museum of Anthropology at UBC. ~UBC Faculty of Education. ~First Nations House of Learning. ~Vancouver Art Gallery. ~Vancouver International Airport. ~Burnaby Art Gallery. ~Toronto Dominion Bank. ~Canada Council Art Bank. ~Imperial Esso. ~West Vancouver Museum. ~BC Sports Hall of Fame. ~Canadian Institute for the Blind. ~Kitimat Museum and Archives. ~ Haisla Nation Council. ~ Haisla Community School. ~ Museum of Northern BC

All information is from the Haisla website.

[oonajaeadira]

wip wednesday whenever.

LOL. You know, I was surprised when @moonlitbirdie tagged me. I was really starting to believe people forgot I used to write things and it brought me a fair amount of joy to be tagged.

And then @grogusmum. And @the-blind-assassin-12. And now @insomniamamma. I know you probably don't mean it this way, but it feels like the lot of you just invited me to tea for an intervention to say "YOU GOT THIS. JUST WRITE ANYTHING. WE DON'T CARE WHAT. REJOIN THE PARTY."

I love it here.

Anyway, thank you, friends. I'm taking it as an encouragement. <3

I'm about to get my feet swept out from under my ass by the General tonight, so let's have some fluffy Fink x Farrah before I lose myself completely to Roman lust and longing....

There’d been two full moons since Farrah came to the island and she adjusted fast to their strange way of life. She wasn’t as hard driven by hunger as some of the other animals and gained from their talks that was because food had been more scarce where she was from and she was patient when it came to waiting for meals. Fish and shellfish had already been a big part of her diet. 

So she must have come from another island…but Fink couldn’t be sure. Anytime he’d ask more about it, she’d change the subject or go quiet. And she was very very good at being quiet. Probably had to learn that with fur like hers. It’s a wonder she made it to maturity without proper camouflage. Silence and speed would be her only options.

Except when she laughed. She laughed loud and high, almost a cry when she was really going. Farrah was easy to amuse and he made sure to do so whenever he had the chance. He wanted to see her happy and settled here. With him.

And he just liked to hear her laugh. Nobody laughed at his jokes like she did.

“That is the look of a lovelorn fox,” Paddler dryly declared one day, turning away to scrape away at a massive trunk with his crooked incisors. Fink had just cracked a joke at a squirrel’s expense–and not a clever one either, something about the size of nuts–and Farrah had laughed before bounding off after a butterfly. The beaver’s remark made Fink realize that he was wearing a dopey grin and he shook it off, but not before Paddler added, “Be direct. Build her a dam to show how you feel.”

“I’m not going to give her a dam.”

“Ha! Very good! I see what you did there. But I’m telling you, fine fellow. We may be swimming among the trees as a pike in the waters of the river, but the ladies still love a good bit of worked wood. You have that home–a good design, said because, as you will remember it is mine–but a little riverside palace of her own? Eh? What a treat.”

Fink rolled his eyes, playing cavalier. “It’s not like that. We’re–” over in the near clearing, Farrah’s fur sparkled white in the sinking sun, her head tilting side to side as she watched two butterflies dancing, trying to pick up on their whispers, quiet and still….and beautiful. “--friends.”

“Ha!” Paddler choked on a laugh. “You fool no one, sir. Just give her a treasure and be done with it. I’m telling you a dam always does the job, but I suppose you must do as your ilk do.” 

“Is that why there's no Mrs. Paddler?”

“Oh ho! I have had my salacious share of affairs, I assure you. My dams are well-given and wide spread. I am focusing on other projects at the moment,” he boasted with a grand gesture towards his gnarled tree, and turned back to his gnawing.

--That Awooo Inside You, Pt. 2.

tagging: @brandyllyn @littlemisspascal @nicolethered @missredherring @something-tofightfor

[atlantarealtorbiassou]

COBB WEEKEND EVENTS SEP 4- SEP 6, 2021. LABOR DAY EVENTS. FALL FAMILY CANOE DAY.. ROSH HASHANAH. LIVE! BREW FEST. END OF SUMMER BASH. FARMERS MARKETS.

COBB WEEKEND EVENTS SEP 4- SEP 6, 2021. LABOR DAY EVENTS. FALL FAMILY CANOE DAY.. ROSH HASHANAH. LIVE! BREW FEST. END OF SUMMER BASH. FARMERS MARKETS.

 SATURDAY … SUNDAY … MONDAY FALL FAMILY CANOE DAY Sat, Sep 4, 2021@ 8:00 – 9:30 AM Chattahoochee Nature Center, 9135 Willeo Rd, Roswell, GA This introduction to canoeing on Beaver Pond is for first time paddlers, families with young kids, or adults coming back to the sport. CNC’s canoe guides will spend extra time going over paddling. INFORMATION ROSH HASHANAH Sat, Sep 4, 2021@ 10:30 AM –…

[scottbcrowley2]

Bonnie Lake full of water, discover for paddlers, anglers - Thu, 29 Jun 2017 PST

The fishing is poor and the beavers haven’t tried to dam the outlet of Bonnie Lake this year, at least not yet. The high water of April has receded after flooding the rancher’s hay field and wetlands downstream from the basalt-canyon lake south of Cheney. Bonnie Lake full of water, discover for paddlers, anglers - Thu, 29 Jun 2017 PST

[jasonmdx]

DNR offers safety tips for paddlers on Beaver Creek in Johnston #IowaFishing https://ifi.sh/qos

[jorinacabrera]

From Source to Confluence, Heather Hansman’s Solo Paddle Down the Green River

The Green River flows 730 miles from Wyoming to Utah—through ranches, cities, Native American reservations, endangered fish habitats, and sought-after whitewater. According to Downriver: Into the Future of Water in the West, a new book that hit shelves on March 22, the Green River supplies water to 40 million people. The legislation that governs how the Green is used is deeply complex and fraught with politics.  

So when Heather Hansman set out to write Downriver, a book about water rights on the Green River, she knew she was signing up for a challenge. Quickly, she realized the task would demand that she see the whole river herself—as she says, from a “bank level.” In May 2016, Hansman embarked on a three-month-long paddle that took her from the Green’s headwaters in Wyoming all the way downriver to its confluence with the Colorado River.

Hansman is a 36-year-old writer and journalist based in Seattle. She was once a river raft guide, which she credits for kickstarting her passion for water in the West. Her rafting days also gave her the know-how to paddle the Green. During the trip, she often had company. Friends and family joined her for certain sections. But for the most part, Hansman paddled the Green solo.

Along the way, she met ranchers whose families have worked their land for generations and government employees who bridge the divide between the dense legalities outlining water policy and the rural communities who are anxious the river will dry up. She ran rapids and toured colossal dams. She slept on the river’s edge, and at the end of the day typed notes on an iPad that she stored in a waterproof bag. During one stretch, she spent nine days without seeing another person.

Hansman’s book Downriver, published this month by the University of Chicago, is a blend of personal narrative, water policy research and on-the-ground reporting in the rural West. It’s about her growing comfort with solitude, the technicalities that define a water right, and the people she met along the way. But it’s also a testament to how recreation can serve as a door to learning and an opportunity to engage with big issues that paddlers—and all outdoorspeople, including climbers, skiers, hikers, surfers—tend to be passionate about.

“I decided I wanted to run the length of the Green, to see if I could understand the complexity of the way rivers are used,” writes Hansman in her book, Downriver. “I wanted to mesh my point-source understanding, couched in recreation and my narrow idea of conservation, with reality to see what drought and overuse were really doing.”

The following interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

Why did you feel the need to paddle the Green yourself?

To me, being out on the ground with people was something I wanted to do. It was a venue to say, OK, what does this actually look like? How do you take [the story] out of the policy notes and [out onto the river]. Here is what people are fighting about. I wanted to actually get on the ground and look at it. I wanted to be out on the river and that felt like the only way to tell the story.

It was scary. I was like, I’m going to run the river and write a book. And then [the University of Chicago Press] bought it and I signed up for it. And I was like, Oh, I have to do this thing I said I was going to do. I didn’t really know how. I had done week-long river trips with a group before, but I had never done big, solo trips.

How did you figure it out to do a trip like this?

There are some guys who paddled the Green through its confluence with the Colorado down to the ocean a few years before I did. So I reached out to them and called them. And I started looking at maps.

There are some parts that people paddle pretty frequently, like the Gates of Lodore and Desolation Canyon, so I knew how long that would take and what permits I would need.

And then there were some stretches that basically nobody does. There was a nine-day stretch above Desolation Canyon and the only guy I knew who had done it before was this guy George Wendt, who ended up dying of cancer when I was on the river. But he was like, ‘Yeah, I did it in the ’70s. I don’t really remember much, but I think it was super buggy and flat.’ I was like, ‘OK cool. We’ll see what happens.’

A lot of it was guessing: I think this is how many miles a day I can do. I’m going to give myself a little bit of a margin of error on either side for how long I think that stretch is going to take.

I lucked out. The water was pretty high, The river basin had a wet spring, so the river was really moving when I was on it.

I think a lot of things worked out in my favor. People were able to help me. I got hurt [just before the trip], I had a shoulder blow out right before, which was scary. I was like, OK, is this a bad idea? Did I sign up for something stupid? But it worked out. People really helped me.

A lot of the stuff, like food and logistics, was just once I was there on the ground. Like: Here’s what I have for breakfast. I just adapted to it.

The author on the Green River. Photo Credit: Heather Hansman

Throughout the book, you write about reconciling your own opinions with the perspectives of people who you meet on the river, many of whom look at the world from a different angle than you do. What was your viewpoint about water in the West going into this trip, and how did that change?

I had this liberal, lefty, environmentalist, raft guide perspective. Keep water in the rivers. Use as little as possible. Don’t touch it. Nature is better. And that is a naïve perspective. It’s not realistic, because everybody needs water. At this point, you can’t tell people not to move to L.A. or Denver. We have this system in place already for how water is used, how it’s divided—and it’s so embedded in what we’re doing. It’s so naïve to think, let’s just do less and it will be OK.

I think change is going to come from really minor adjustments in a lot of places. It’s not going to be this idealistic Keep the rivers flowing free and it will be great! I think I had that. It gets way more subtle once you get into it and way more complicated.

That’s part of why I wanted to write about water. I knew it was really complicated and tricky. But I think I didn’t even know how complicated it was until I really got into it. And I was like, Oh, people who are way smarter than me have been thinking about this for a really long time and they don’t have great answers yet.

At first, you wrote that the solitary nature of paddling down the river was unnerving. But the farther downriver you got, the more comfortable you were with the isolation. That’s unusual in our culture and society to have such long spans of time alone. How was that for you?

I think I’m somebody who needs a lot of alone time anyway. I hadn’t really realized that. At first, I was really scared that I wasn’t capable of doing it, or I couldn’t figure it out, or I was going to get hurt. The first week, I was like: My boat is deflating, my boat is deflating, every day.

It’s like muscle memory. You just keep doing it. And then you’re like: OK, I did it. And then you normalize it.

The parts that were the hardest were the transition points, where I was coming back into reality and it was a culture shock. Or I would have people with me for a chunk and then they would leave, and that would feel really lonely. But when I was just in it and rowing along, it didn’t feel lonely.

There were definitely some nights. I did that nine-day section alone. It was the first or second night, and I was camping on the sand bar because there weren’t really any good beaches. There were oil and gas rigs around. I could see lights a little bit. And I heard this big splash in the middle of the night, and all of a sudden, I was just awake. I was like: Someone is going to come kill me. I was up the whole night. Because, they could have. You never know. And then I got up in the morning and I was paddling along, and I heard the same noise. And it was a beaver.

But, basically, everyone I interacted with—I locked my keys in my car and some stranger drove me 30 miles out of his way to go get it—like, pretty much every interaction I had with somebody was good.

The Green River's Flaming Gorge. Photo Credit: Heather Hansman

You also wrote a lot about social justice, from the standpoint of the river. How the Green is a common ground, but also a divider and a tool for control.

Totally, yeah. I think that water is really going to be one of the biggest social justice and equity questions of the future. You’re seeing that in Flint [in Michigan]. You’re seeing that in California, when there’s drought. That’s something where the market won’t support society. You can’t just be like, whoever can pay for it gets it. There’s zero equity in that.

You went to a community meeting in Vernal, Utah, where stakeholders from all sides had come to discuss water rights. It was a controversial meeting, but it also felt like progress was being made, at least on a small scale. How can rivers help us communicate?

That whole experience was surprising. I was like: Sure, this meeting is going on, I guess I’ll just pop in. I got there and was like, Oh, this is the heart of all of it.

People feel really disenfranchised and they’re not being heard, and that feels really frustrating. I think even being heard makes a difference. When the woman from the Bureau of Reclamation got up and said, ‘Hey, we’re trying.’ People were like, ‘Oh she’s a real person, she’s trying.’ And I think that made a pretty big difference.

What role can recreationalists play? We go to these places and we are passionate about conservation and preservation and we have deep connections to water or the mountains. What advice do you have for people who go to these places to have a dialogue?

I think part of it is knowing and thinking about a bigger connection. I’m paddling the Colorado, where does that water come from? Where does it go?

It’s thinking about it more. At my house in Seattle, where does my water come from? I didn’t know that before. Dig in.

For me, having recreational experience was the thing that made me care. It can often be the the thing that leads people to advocacy or some kind of connection. Digging in a little deeper.

Echo Park. Photo Credit: Heather Hansman

What was the general reception you got from people who you met on the river?

There was a little bit of skepticism sometimes. I was coming from Seattle. I had to prove myself a little bit, for sure, and say that I’m not just a weird vegetarian hippie raft guide. I’m listening.

When you were off the river, where did your research take you?

Water rights vary state by state. So it was going to the state engineer’s office in Wyoming and in Utah and being like, ‘How do you divide up water rights?’ It was definitely a mix of [reading] history and legal documents, and also, ‘Hello, can you please explain this to me in the most basic sense?’

It would have been really hard for me to understand it and explain it if I hadn’t had the real life experience. I think just trying to drill into how water is sorted out and why people fight about it from a paper standpoint is impossibly boring. People talk about that—paper water rights and wet water rights—and I needed both sides of it to make sense of it to me.

What’s happened on the Green since you paddled down the river?

The Colorado River Compact [which dictates water usage rights among the states bordering the river including Arizona, California, Colorado, Nevada, New Mexico, Utah and Wyoming]  has interim guidelines [which indicate what happens in drought years when the reservoirs get too low] that expire in 2026. So they’re talking about revising the [compact’s interim guidelines]. And for the first time, California and Arizona are offering to make voluntary cuts to the water they get, which is a big deal.

The [Lake] Powell Pipeline is a big part of it. There’s a proposed pipeline to pull water out of Lake Powell [via an approximately 140-mile buried pipeline] for [Washington and Kane counties in] southern Utah. Utah’s public suppliers use more water per capita than anywhere and water is super cheap in Utah. The proposed Powell Pipeline would pull the rest of the state’s water rights out [of the Colorado] for a big development in St. George.

They have 1.71 million acre feet a year of water legally allocated, through the Colorado River Compact, but it doesn’t actually exist. So if they end up piping that water out, the math doesn’t add up. We’ve been coming to a head on this, at some point, drought and fear make people act, and I think we’re coming to that point now, which is scary and necessary. It’s hard to motivate people to change things when things feel good.

So yeah, there’s a lot and this year, the Colorado River Basin is going back to 110 percent of average snowfall, so it looks good. But it is pretty fragile.

 The post From Source to Confluence, Heather Hansman’s Solo Paddle Down the Green River appeared first on REI Co-op Journal.

by Julie Brown via Paddle – REI Co-op Journal From Source to Confluence, Heather Hansman’s Solo Paddle Down the Green River published first on https://realpaddleandpole.blogspot.com