This story in The New Yorker http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2008/07/07/080707fa_fact_kolbert?printable=true about a Danish island that decided to lower its carbon footprint, reminds me of Bustin's Island in the Casco Bay, on the Maine Coast, east of Freeport and Portland.
In the 1990s, my husband and I were like the Beverly Hillbillies: we would load up our four kids and dog on our full-size conversion van [8 cylnders, that is].
On the roof and back, we tied on canoes, a wind surfer, and six bikes. Inside, we crammed food, tennis rackets and games, stuffed animals, books, linens and clothing for two car-free weeks on an 80-acre paradise surrounded by ocean.
We visited the island four different summers, taking 2-week vacations on this idyllic place. We put the brakes on our frenetic pace of life, and s-l-o-w-e-d down to the 19th century way of life -- without the internal combustion engine, flush toilet, telephone or computer.
The first task was to load everything up on Archie's Ferry [a converted lobster boat] in Freeport, and transport it to the island. At the dock, we had the option of hiring one of the island's two trucks to help, but we used our built-in labor and handcarts, of course --low-carbon and low-cost all the way.
Conjuring up the memories of our last visit a decade ago, I feel my blood pressure go down, and a sense of calm wash over me. I have memories of reading books all afternoon, exploring the island, canoeing out to see the wild seals, letting the kids roam free all over the island, and relaxing.
Every day at 2 pm, all of the kids on the island played baseball. The younger you were, the bigger the bat. Everyone got a hit. No adults interfered. They managed.
At night, we read more books, played Charades, cards and other games. Occasionally, community events were held for amusement -- like a talent show. Early on, we made fools of ourselves singing "Rueben, Rueben, I've been Thinking," and acted out a simple story line on stage. This foolishness broke down barriers between us and the islanders whose families have been coming to Bustin's Island for generations. They began including us in their culture.
What is the lure of car-free vacationing, with outhouses, sun-showers, propane stoves, fridges and lights?
Peace of mind. Peace of soul. Calm. Connection to the earth and the people and the place where we were. No agenda. No where to go. I can smell the sea breeze, taste the frigid salt water, fresh blackberries picked by the kids [who are now all 20-somethings] and feel the sun warming my skin. All by walking, paddling or pedaling.
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2 comments:
Bustin's was fun until I was about 14 or 15, when I was too old for the kids, too young for the adults. I definitely didn't miss the car! Or a schedule!
enjoyed at age 80 your comments.
Have been on Bustins since 1936, and still love to bite the sweet june grasses, the rise of the full moon over Goose, the days when I lit 24 Coleman lanterns around the Island June to September, the way a maine famrmer taught me at age 14 to scythe grasses and hay, the fishing of the tinker mackeral
in July and the memory of a store no longer there
Paul deWolfe Wade Brunswick Oct 2009
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