The Delaware River Sojourn: ‘A kind of meditation’ that takes you away

While the world continues to jump from crisis to crisis, bombarding us with repeated stories of anger, hatred and revenge politics, mental health experts extol the virtues of mindfulness: Our need to let go and relax may be more critical than ever.

The nearly 100 participants in the 30th annual Delaware River Sojourn perhaps are embodying that advice as they paddle from the far upper reaches of the river for 70 or so miles over six days, all of them surrounded by nature that in places has spotty cell service at best.

And that’s a good thing.

I headed to the Northeast Wilderness Experience campsite in Equinunk, Pa. From my home in Milford, Pa., the trip is over an hour up New York’s scenic Route 97. The road skirts the river and its lush canyons. As I drove, a fine rain was falling that I thought could throw a pall over the sojourn’s 15-mile trip.

Arriving during breakfast, I was greeted with nothing less than gleeful participants who champed at the bit to get onto the water. The camaraderie and sheer anticipation were as palpable as the humidity.

For some, the trip is the highlight of their summer, offering a Zen-like period of escape from either city or suburban life. The weather, though far from ideal, was rendered inconsequential by sheer force of will manifested in everyone I met.

Friendships forged in the sojourn

Originally from The Netherlands, and now living in Binghamton, N.Y., Helena Garan has participated in numerous sojourns. She calls kayaking the love of her life, and for her, the experience transcends the simplicity of the paddle: “It’s kind of a meditation.”

Sandy Schultz was one of the original planners of the Delaware River Sojourn in the mid-90’s when she worked at the National Park Service. Now retired and living in Virginia, she’s been on each sojourn.

“It always boils down to the people,” Schultz said. “The people who share an interest or share a commitment to the environment or to this event. So, I have these friendships that developed over 30 years. The people I see one time a year only, and this is our week to be together.”

Ruth DiDonato from New Jersey was on her third sojourn and said she feels peaceful while she’s on the river. “Everything’s so beautiful. No city noises. No traffic noises.”

During my visit, the paddlers were bussed from their campground to Stockport, Pa., where they would receive their daily safety briefing from Jacqui Wagner, a veteran paddler with the National Canoe Safety Patrol.

Wagner’s talk was a delightful mix of candor, expertise, humor and humility. If you had a problem on the river, there is no doubt Jacqui and her team were the ones who would save you.

After the 30-minute briefing, the sojourners would eventually make their way into their boats and onto the river. With everyone ready, the group turned downriver, paddling in a long line of brightly colored kayaks slicing through the waters of the Delaware against a verdant green forest in near-silent elegance.

Finding peace

Even for me, the heavy, issue-laden, often overwhelming world of a journalist seemed to fall away.

Scurrying to my vehicle, I jumped in and drove south along the river, catching glimpses of the group as I hustled to get in front of them, all while searching for a put-in I knew would show up.

Finding one, I headed to the riverbank, unloaded my still and video cameras for even more footage and captured a shot of the paddlers almost as one.

From there I headed along the river again, finding a small bridge spanning the Delaware at the tiny hamlet of Lordville, N.Y., I didn’t know existed.

Inevitably, the paddlers appeared once again. As they approached the bridge, some waved and said hello, probably recognizing my bright yellow rain jacket. I snapped more images and more video. Switching to the other side of the bridge facing south, I watched them pull away, getting smaller and smaller.

I was happy for them, I knew they felt peaceful. I knew they were smiling and having fun. I knew many of their stresses were, for a moment, far away, as they lived in the now.

I also knew that next year, I would be there too.