Life Lessons from Canoe Jenga

The view from the top of Tainter Lake on our canoeing trip.

A few days ago, I stared at a truck, two large canoes, and a few bits and pieces of rope in the buggy Wisconsin sunshine with five other incredibly smart people from LAKES, trying to figure out how in the world we were going to get everything (and more importantly, everyone) safely to the top of Tainter Lake. We were headed up there to check out the muddy, life-filled delta and to get inspiration for our research projects. Of course, we also couldn’t pass up an excuse to escape for a Banh mi picnic in the fresh air. After a little trial and error, we had both boats carefully balanced on top of the truck and our turtle-like procession was trundling down the highway. Thinking back on this adventure, I’m reminded of a couple big lessons I’m learning—and continuing to learn—this summer: how to be creative with existing resources, and how to be okay with (and even embrace) ambiguity and be more flexible.

Playing canoe jenga! What could go wrong??

I’ve never thought of scientific research as particularly creative, but that’s something that has stood out to me over and over again these past few weeks. When the world around you is changing all the time, it helps to be able to think outside the box and use what you have for the most good. For example, a week ago we started an experiment growing several different plants on rafts floating on the lake, and used invasive reed canary grass to make mats that will hold the plants in place (don’t worry, we removed the seeds). It might be nearly impossible to eradicate this aggressive grass, but at least we can use some of it to try to improve other environmental problems.

Creativity also means that you have to be okay with plans not working out and being open to changing directions. Experimentation necessitates flexibility, and I think as the summer progresses I’ll learn more about what it means to navigate unexpected change with grace. Sometimes it seems like it’s impossible to make any headway or that your research will have any real impact, but what I’m beginning to see is that no one person is going to discover the “fix” for Lake Menomin’s nutrient pollution problem—or any of the world’s biggest problems. It’s more about chipping away at the issue with what you have and making way for others to build on what you find.

I know that there are probably a bunch of other really deep life lessons that I’ll learn this summer—but also plenty more crazy adventures, good food, and (slightly less philosophical) discoveries (shout out to Esther for her idea to wear life jackets as pants! Pure genius).

Picnic out on Tainter Lake! From right, Arthur (my mentor), Jacey, Marcella, and Esther.