“There is an island,” they said, the people who have lived here all their lives. “Once you find the trail, it is about 20 minutes away. The trail starts at the end of the road.”

So I looked. I looked in all the possible places a trail could be. I walked where I thought there should have been a trail, were there a trail to have. I saw signs that there once was possibly a trail. Literally, signs. Metal signs. Impossible to get to. But they said there was a trail, and they said there was an island.

Roxanne showed us the long way in, over not too far from the school, which we’ve been using. And today, we went down to the island for the first time. First you have to get to the end of where the foot trail is and look over the cliff. Then you just go straight down! Plop! It’s that simple. Getting up is another story.

Here we look at the river from the island.

Trees grow on the island.

Neatly folded stratigraphic rocks decorate the fringes of this little spot of land.

Oh, no! The island is inhabited by a fierce tribe of weekday campers!

“Oh! Great, stout stick! Give me power against these litterbugs!”

With great agility, Akiva fends them off with his stick. 

The campers flee, leaving behind tarps and ropes and trash. Akiva surveys his newly conquered island.

Curved stones form thrones at the edge of the land. We will be sure to return with the rest of our people.