Island Time

Today's Hike-Ku

Water, fog, waves
mist washed shores and bowers
timeless, timeless, sea



We just got back from the Harbor Islands of Boston's outer harbor. This is on one of my lists of "things I plan to do to keep me sane and get me out of Andover" if only for a day or two. Not every camping and hiking trip has to be epic, but this one certainly had elements of epic about it. Let me describe the route we took to get to the island, Bumpkin, that we camped on.

Pack tent, sleeping bags, sleeping pads (because we're middle aged and we creak). Pack clothing in case it's hot, cold or wet. Pack food. Not too much, but certainly not too little. Pack things to heat said food with. As an aside, I camped once many years ago and sacrificed fuel and stove weight to bring climbing gear. By night two of cold food and no coffee I was ready to pack it in and come home. Lesson learned. We compromised and didn't bring the french press for coffee , we made tea instead. Although, apparently there is not enough caffeine in tea to stave off the withdrawal headache I had by afternoon. And heaviest of all, water. None on the islands, and when hiking you can't go without. This fits into my frame pack and our tent duffle. Steve got the duffle and his day pack, I took the frame pack.

In the car, drive to Alewife. Park car. Get on subway - red line, wearing frame pack with trusty sherpa Steve bringing up the rear. Take red line to green line. Get on greenline. Take green line to blue line. Get on blue line. Take blue line to the Aquarium stop. Get off. Get odd looks from people at the Marriot (which we walked through to get from the T to Long Warf - I think they were puzzled because I was a little too clean to be homeless, but backpackers are usually not seen at the harbor. I speak only for myself. Steve was grubby enough to make small change sitting on top of his duffle). Get tickets to Georges Island. And tickets for water taxi for interisland shuttle. Make return reservations.

Get on ferry. Ride to Georges. Get off ferry. Wait. Walk around. Look at fort. Get on water taxi. Ride to Bumpkin Island. Watch fog roll in and obscure everything. Wonder what we're doing here.

It's a lot of hassle to get there, and the weather gods have their own plans. I checked the forecast and all agreed that it would be SUNNY and beautiful this week. NOT. But if we've learned nothing over the years, Steve and I have figured out how to entertain ourselves and make the best of what's out there or lower expectations or something. We had a beautiful bower of a campsite. Not too big, but big enough for the tent, a picnic table - provided by the park service, nice - and the two of us. And best of all, composting toilets, so we didn't have to carry out EVERY thing.

Bumpkin is small, and like most of the islands in the national park, have had or still have historic buildings and military installations. All this surrounded by a wild tangle of shrubs, vines, stunted trees and wildflowers. They maintain mown paths so you can get around, but it hasn't lost that wild feel. We hiked the one path around the island and found the foliage taking over an 18th century farm, a 19th century hospital for children, and a 20th century naval installation. Layers of civilization, but in the end, the trees and vines win. We came in just after an artist campout - where these artists camped on the island and made 'art'. With stones and found objects. And one of the park rangers had BIG weaving projects made from found materials placed around. A couple of wheelchairs made for a giant and her in process fifteen foot high 'traffic light'. Out of reeds and branches. I'm glad she was on her day off island when we were there. She sounds a little scary. And then it rained. Buckets. Thunder and lightening too. But at this point we'd eaten, toured, visited the beach, seen the art, watched the fog and gone to bed, so let the weather gods have their way. Oh, but wait, the dreaded wet tent. Yes. Because it wasn't perfect enough we woke up the next day with wet pads, wet bags and wet tent. It poured so hard everything came in over the ground tarp. And the rain fly was next to useless. Note to self. Complain to LL Bean LOUDLY.

After breakfast the next morning we made our way over to Peddocks - mostly because the friendly ranger had told us they filmed scenes for Shutter Island, a movie being made from a book we had both read earlier in the summer. It was creepy with these old gothic brick and wood buildings decaying in the overgrown woods. An old naval base, and quite a few buildings - at least 30 and all large. Peddocks is several drumlins attached by spits so it's kind of like round bump, spit, round bump spit, round bump, spit. Having lots of time, we walked the island perimeter which was something on the order of 7 miles. Not hilly hiking but definitely hard walking over shingle and up and down rocks. The fog rolled in, and in, and in, for most of the day. We got some views, but mostly we saw what was right in front of us, and lots of misty outlines of . . .something. Ironically once we got into Boston's inner harbor late that afternoon, the sun was out. Apparently had been most of the day.

We got home mid evening - after the ferry ride back, my beeline to the nearest starbucks for a fix and repeating our mass transit route in reverse - wet and tired, but with one of those "were we really only gone for two days?" kind of disconnects that you get after a really rich experience. And then it rained while I snuggled in a cozy DRY bed with the bathroom around the corner. Weather gods? So there!