The sun was rising. It was another perfect 40-degree July morning. I could hear the birds singing through the open farmhouse window. The day held a lot of promise. Opportunity was vested in the cold morning air.
The 250th birthday of independence of our nation had just passed. The barbecues were hot and friends arrived to celebrate relationships. Before the festivities, a small lake in Northwest Montana called. It’s known to anglers for its bass and crappies, and is predominantly recharged by groundwater.
The lake was still. The water reflected like a sheet of glass with clouds appearing on the surface. After spending half my life on the farm, I still don’t quite know why the wind suddenly blows. The sound starts dancing in the trees. Ripples appear like magic. Not the magic that makes a computer work, but more like earthly sprites at play or a crappie snatching a mayfly.
The little dog sat on the edge of the float, calmly peering into the deep water. The eerie-looking lily pad sprigs must’ve run 20 feet down. I could nearly see them at the bottom. I imagined bass hiding, hungry for a morning treat. Not sure what the dog saw, but he remained interested until the heat of the sun made a nap evermore enticing.
Two hundred and fifty years, I mused to myself. That’s a long time. If I make it to 80 years old, that’d be like three lifetimes long. Not so long to most looking back on life, but long in potential and promise of a young nation.
I thought about Lily, the 21 foot-long, five and a half foot-wide, and seven-hundred-pound ocean rowing boat that a young American spent 42 days oaring across the Pacific Ocean from California to Hawaii.
Kelsey Pfendler is a 31-year-old American ocean rower and river guide who just completed the historic, record-shattering journey across the Pacific. For six solid weeks she spent 16 hours per day rowing across ocean waves.
Unsupported and alone she arrived on Independence Day to celebrate the nation’s 250th anniversary. I only know about her because of social media, the forbidden magic of the internet.
Kelsey Pfendler is raising money for The Whale Foundation, a nonprofit organization dedicated to providing mental health, medical, and financial support services to the Grand Canyon river-guiding community.
As I sat on my raft in the middle of the lake, I thought about the dedication that Americans have put into our communities throughout lifetimes. Kelsey Pfendler had rowed 2,400 miles and landed in Hawaii on a momentous anniversary.
If I drove those thousands of miles from Whitefish on the Hi-Line Route 2, it would take me to Bangor, Maine. I’d travel through rural towns like Browning, Shelby and Malta. I’d visit the geographical center of North America in Rugby, North Dakota.
Travel through the tiny fishing village of Epoufette, Michigan before entering Canada. Then stop at the apple orchards in Hero, Vermont. See the churches in Lancaster, New Hampshire before ending up in the one-time lumber capital of the world, Bangor, Maine. That’s 2,400 miles and I’d still be on Route 2.
A hundred years ago that route was the known as Theodore Roosevelt International Highway. I’ve traveled it earlier in my youth. A lot of people enjoy a slower traverse across the nation to experience the spacious skies, majestic purple mountains, fruited plains, and alabaster cities.
Yet the thought of rowing that monstrous distance solo, in choppy waters, with no assistance or pit stops, seems wholly unrealistic. Something most of us would simply not dare. The courage of the younger generation is awe inspiring.
As my dog and I sat on the raft in the middle of the calm lake, I reminded myself that the torch of leadership was being passed to the younger generation. A mere three lifetimes ago the 13 American colonies declared our independence from the Royal Crown and King George III. Then, like now, an older generation remains actively involved in the pursuit of democracy.
Our nation has seen turbulence, driven on fumes, floated across unimaginable turmoil, yet overcame to enjoy the best a world had to offer. We’re all inspired by younger people like Kelsey Pfendler who can achieve impossible feats and suddenly appear on the national scene, visible to the rest of us after years of private preparation.
People routinely tell me that things are impossible. But that’s clearly not true. Seeing Kelsey Pfendler power against the full weight of the Pacific Ocean makes the impossible feel a little more achievable. It leaves me wondering what else our nation has written off as too hard. Good days may be behind. Better days remain ahead.