Being the caretaker on Baker is not just about mowing, answering questions, cleaning up trash, working on old buildings, answering questions, guarding artifacts, helping find slightly lost children, hauling dinghies up and down and up and down the shore, answering questions, being followed by deer, carrying supplies up the hill, fixing equipment, and remembering to enjoy the amazing sunrises and sunsets.
For a guy often alone on Baker, I am seldom lonely. This is partly because I am always busy, and enjoy a deep friendship with the other island family. “Friendship” is certainly an understatement; they are family. Even when their house is empty, they are in my heart. A mile across the bar, Islesford feels like part of our hamlet (except in storms and thick fog), and the other Cranberry Isles like nearby villages.
After a rather extended stay on Baker, I found myself walking across Islesford and was reminded I have family there, too. I crossed paths with an old friend, a lobsterman and gentleman, and we enjoyed catching up, the time melting away. Further on, a stranger took a chance, asking, “Are you from Baker?” I affirmed, wondering if it was the many empty water jugs or my disheveled appearance that caught her attention. There were questions and I enjoyed answering. Another neighbor provided a water bowl for Waldo, cookies and lemonade for me; after a visit, gave me a ride to the dock. The Islesford Boatworks folks called out cheerful greetings. While I waited for the mailboat, a lobsterman offered me a ride to MDI. I declined, suspecting I would make a new friend on the mailboat… I did.
My friends at Acadia National Park, the harbor folks at Northeast, lobstermen at Seal and so many others are part of my community. At any dock, help appears to load or unload boats, because that is just what folks do. On Baker, once-in-a-lifetime visitors and weekly regulars alike help carry my supplies up the hill, often without asking. Spare parts have been raced out by friends and strangers alike and many people have given us rides. Bar Harbor Whale Watch folks even went to the pharmacy and delivered COVID medication!
Last summer, I was struggling with old brittle filament for our string trimmer. With no expectations, I posted a note online: “Anyone got some?” thinking I could row to Islesford. No need! Almost immediately, Shannon Bryan came over on a paddle board, with filament and some cold beverages (my stay had been extended and the cupboard was a little bare). The supplies were greatly appreciated, but our half hour chat was simply delightful.
Even alone on Baker Island, I am always a small part of a large community. Didn’t someone once say, “No man is an island?” John somebody, long ago?
For a guy often alone on Baker, I am seldom lonely. This is partly because I am always busy, and enjoy a deep friendship with the other island family. “Friendship” is certainly an understatement; they are family. Even when their house is empty, they are in my heart. A mile across the bar, Islesford feels like part of our hamlet (except in storms and thick fog), and the other Cranberry Isles like nearby villages.
After a rather extended stay on Baker, I found myself walking across Islesford and was reminded I have family there, too. I crossed paths with an old friend, a lobsterman and gentleman, and we enjoyed catching up, the time melting away. Further on, a stranger took a chance, asking, “Are you from Baker?” I affirmed, wondering if it was the many empty water jugs or my disheveled appearance that caught her attention. There were questions and I enjoyed answering. Another neighbor provided a water bowl for Waldo, cookies and lemonade for me; after a visit, gave me a ride to the dock. The Islesford Boatworks folks called out cheerful greetings. While I waited for the mailboat, a lobsterman offered me a ride to MDI. I declined, suspecting I would make a new friend on the mailboat… I did.
My friends at Acadia National Park, the harbor folks at Northeast, lobstermen at Seal and so many others are part of my community. At any dock, help appears to load or unload boats, because that is just what folks do. On Baker, once-in-a-lifetime visitors and weekly regulars alike help carry my supplies up the hill, often without asking. Spare parts have been raced out by friends and strangers alike and many people have given us rides. Bar Harbor Whale Watch folks even went to the pharmacy and delivered COVID medication!
Last summer, I was struggling with old brittle filament for our string trimmer. With no expectations, I posted a note online: “Anyone got some?” thinking I could row to Islesford. No need! Almost immediately, Shannon Bryan came over on a paddle board, with filament and some cold beverages (my stay had been extended and the cupboard was a little bare). The supplies were greatly appreciated, but our half hour chat was simply delightful.
Even alone on Baker Island, I am always a small part of a large community. Didn’t someone once say, “No man is an island?” John somebody, long ago?
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