I was asked to help lead a sea-kyaking trip for seven of my students. Those of you who know me well would know that while I have lead many trips in my life, I have no formal training or experience in sea-kyaking. In fact, I do not think I’ve ever actually done it. Nonetheless, I was asked to assist in leading a trip around Muscongus bay, off the coast of Maine, due east of where I live in Wiscasset. We spent four nights island hopping, camping out on three different islands and exploring others by foot during the day.

The first evening we spent on an Island called Black. The campsite was nice; mossy grass on the ground to soften our beds at night and, of course, a beautiful ocean view.

The night was marked by excitement when our leaking whisper light stove almost set the island ablaze (my co-leader Eric aptly described it as a “very big deal” as he asked the kids to slowly back away from the burning wooden table). The kids camped outside while I spent the night shivering in a tent of my own. The next morning we awoke with sun and paddled seven miles down to another Island, Thief.

Thief (can be seen on a map, along with the other islands, here) is marked by unique mossy growth (called colloquially “Old Man’s Beard” for obvious reasons) on most of its trees (see pictures below), as well as gorgeous rocky cliff views.

I won’t go into too much detail but those cliffs made for quite a nice “Loo with a View,” if you will, especially when facing west at around 6:30.

Sunset on Thief

We stayed on Thief for two nights. On the day in between we paddled to Loud’s Island, which apparently was the last Island to actually become part of Maine. The last full-time residents moved off the Island in the 1960s when the U.S. Postal Service began refusing to bring mail there on a daily basis for such few residents. That, combined with the lack of electricity and cold coastal winters proved difficult for the more modern Mainer. But people maintain summer residences there so homes are present, though few and far between. Three main dirt/grass roads run along the Island intersecting at various points. They lead to an old graveyard with family graves spouting poetry about lost loves. They lead to the old run down foundation of what was once the town school. They lead to an old church which is still open to the public. We snuck inside and played the harpsichord and some piano. I was especially intrigued by the church library, complete with multiple volumes of Danielle Steele novels. The church was outfited with “rugs” which were literally painted on the old wooden floor beams.

The 1920s seemed to have brought some modernization to the Island. Cars were brought to Louds and they remain there today, although in quite a different capacity. Mostly they sit in the woods growing moss or holding wood for non-existant winter fires. But the lack of inhabitants combined with the old, rusted, 1920s Fords scattered throughout the place certainly lend themselves to the island’s surreal appeal. Think the movie Pleasantville, but in color.

After leaving Louds, we sailed back to Thief by rafting our kayaks together and attaching a tarp to two paddles. We made it 4.5 miles in an hour and a half. Pretty damn good sailing for sea kyakers, if I do say so myself!

The sunrise the next morning on Thief was spectacular, and we got moving pretty quickly in order to sail out and find a Lobsterman friend of Eric’s. He sold us some lobster from right off the back of his boat which we put in the aft hatch of Erics boat (along with some seaweed to preserve them) and saved for a Lobster Chowder we made later that night.

Sunrise on Thief

All in all, beautiful weather, gorgeous islands, and a good time to just sit back and relax and meditate about life. Check out pictures if you like!

But now that I have officially moved to Maine and been living here for over a month, I feel grounded and relaxed enough to start up again.

I am inspired to write now because of a particularly exciting harvesting day I participated in last week. The school where I teach has a working organic farm and students and teachers alike participate in the growth of the food that will eventually fuel their bellies as part of the delicious meals served to us in the dining hall. I was assisting students in harvesting winter squash when we noticed some interesting mutant plants. These squash were shaped like butternuts but possessed the skin of watermelons (see pics below). How was this possible?

Giant (and baby) squashy watermelons

In speaking with Margaret, the farm manager, we learned that squash and watermelon are both cucurbits, or members of the Cucurbitaceae family. As such, they are entomophilous, which means they are pollinated by insects, in this case, bees. The bees will bring the pollen grains containing male gametes to the carpel of the female gametes thus aiding in the sexual reproduction which produces the veggies we eat. But since both watermelon and squash are cucurbits, the bees have trouble telling the difference and often times bring the male gamete from one (in this case, from the watermelon) to the female gamete of another (in this case, squash). The result? MUTANT SQUASHYWATERMELONS! Great for looking at. Not so great for eating. But, I’m planning on trying to make some experimental mutant soup anyway….

If even Mother Nature is experiments in genetic engineering, maybe it’s not such a bad thing after all?

I will not write much, save a declaration of excitement. How did I get to be lucky enough to experience this? I’ll be sailing for a week along the Maine Coast, camping out on islands at night and waking to the coastal sunrise. This is in preparation (an orientation, if you will) for my next year’s stint as a Teaching Fellow at the Maine Coast Semester. Their generosity in allowing me to come there and experience this, astounds me. I’ll be gone for 5 days, and then back in Boston for 10 prior to leaving for Amherst College, where I will spend my summer teaching.

A reflection on my coastal trip still to come…

What if you could go back? What if you could try it again, this time with some world knowledge, knowing the things you now know? With a realization of your own limitations, and with the strength of your dreams (and unfullfilled dreams) underscoring your every footstep?

Well…that’s the goal.

On this, my next great adventure, I aim to do it right. To teach and be taught. To love and be loved. To experience the beauty of life and be thankful for everyday in it. And perhaps, to let others in on a piece of it through a combination of modern technology and antique prose. Let us enjoy!

Elana

“I know of no more encouraging fact than the unquestionable ability of man to elevate his life by conscious endeavor.“–Henry David Thoreau