Some places can’t help but create an environmental awareness in visitors. It’s not just that they’re beautiful or picturesque; it’s more a feeling that you’ve intruded upon nature in its exposed, raw state, a sense that everything you do has an immediate impact on the landscape. Locations that do not fall into this category include Disney theme parks, “all-inclusive” destinations and most of the Jersey shore.
Coastal Maine, on the other hand, with its low-impact, salt-box architecture and untamed abundance of wildflowers stretching to rocky shorelines, is precisely the kind of place that could make a tree-hugger out of even the most Styrofoam-happy traveler.
I consider myself a sort of accidental, or perhaps incidental, environmentalist. Although I have yet to begin composting my kitchen waste or using herbs instead of deodorant, I have started to pay more attention to the little behaviors that, I’m told, can be eco-friendly. I turn off the faucet while I brush my teeth. I don’t flush the toilet unnecessarily.
I eschew driving in favor of walking whenever I can. OK, the latter is mainly because my car is unreliable, gas is ridiculously overpriced and my dog always needs more exercise. But the point remains: I am at least vaguely aware of my environmental footprint, and I take care to tread as lightly as I can without giving up things I hold dear: hot baths, clean laundry and the knowledge that I smell reasonably good even after a stressful day.
And so it was with some trepidation that I agreed to embark upon a “green travel” experiment. I had a lot of questions about this trip: Would there be toilet paper? How about toilets? Would the trip involve eating only berries and/or nuts found in the woods?
My relief (and delight) knew no bounds when I was given my actual assignment: I was off to the Colony Hotel, a sprawling Georgian guesthouse built in 1914, whose Web site celebrates both its status as “Maine’s First Environmentally Friendly Hotel,” and its afternoon tea service.
Maybe Kermit was wrong. Maybe it’s not so tough to be green, after all.
ARRIVING AT THE Manchester, N.H., airport is supposed to be a low-stress alternative to flying into Boston’s Logan. And I suspect this may well be the case for travelers who don’t book a rental car for the day that Hertz simply runs out of cars. Four hours after my flight landed, I drove out of the airport parking lot in a spanking-new 2008 Subaru Outback–a vehicle Hertz has, for no discernible reason, assigned to its “green” collection, which also includes several hybrids. As far as I could tell, the only thing green about my Outback was its license plate (Vermont), although the paint job did have a lovely greenish-gold tinge in a certain light.
It was nearly dusk when I arrived in Kennebunkport, a small resort town about 25 miles south of Portland, perhaps best known as the summer residence of former President George H. W. Bush and his wife, Barbara.
Kennebunkport is classic New England coastal living: Currier and Ives goes to the beach, if you will. Grey-shingled houses, modest sailboats dotting the harbors, brightly-colored buoys marking the profusion of lobster pots. The business district, a few blocks of shops and restaurants, tends to be swallowed up by the hordes of seasonal tourists, whose insatiable demand for nautical-motif sweatshirts, canvas tote bags and lobster key chains keep the local shopkeepers in the black.
But beyond the souvenir shops, there is a genuine small town in Kennebunkport, a community with year-round residents, schools, churches, excellent restaurants and local theater. Not to mention–and this is where my ears, newly attuned to anything that sounds even remotely environmentally friendly, perked up–an impressive array of farmers’ markets, kayaking outfitters, sailboat charters and bike rental/repair stores. Kennebunkport also boasts a flourishing pedicab service, a real treat for anyone who enjoys relaxing while other people sweat in the interest of getting them from Point A to Point B. Oh, and it’s environmentally friendly, too.
As I drove out Ocean Avenue toward the Colony Hotel, the postcard-ready scenes flashed by: fishing shacks and weathered docks set against the kind of lush green you find only in places where it rains too much. Around one more bend, and the Colony appeared on the left, up a short rise and across an expanse of well-tended grass.
If you enjoy the works of John Irving, you’ll be especially pleased by the hotel. It’s soaked in the sort of shabbily genteel atmosphere that infuses so many of Irving’s settings. The carpets are expensive but worn, and the rooms are bright, airy and exceedingly simple, decorated in heavy furniture with slightly stained upholstery, perhaps thanks to the hotel’s dog- and child-friendly policies. My ocean-view room was staggeringly large, but after peeking through several opened doors, I gathered I had lucked out; most of the other rooms were much smaller.
Note: The Colony is open from early May to the end of October, and room rates vary dramatically from month to month, even week to week. The high season (July and August) can send prices upwards of $700 per night for an Ocean Room with a king bed. When I visited in June, I paid $149 a night.
There are no televisions in the main house at the Colony. This was an excellent decision by the hotel management, not only because a lack of television allows people to engage in other, too-often-neglected activities, like sleeping, but because the walls of the Colony are paper-thin. There is nothing worse than having to shape your day around your next-door neighbor’s obsession with “Matlock” reruns played at ear-splitting volume. For example.
At any rate, I was besotted by my accommodations, and swept downstairs to investigate dinner possibilities. It was approaching dark, but I couldn’t bear to get back in the car again. Plus, I was supposed to be on an environmentally friendly trip, which put the onus on me to experience the entire Kennebunkport area while doing as little damage as possible to the surrounding ecosystem. I decided I would rent a bicycle from the hotel ($7), pedal into town and find some dinner.
Then it started to rain. Really hard.
So I went back upstairs, grabbed the car keys and drove to the Kennebunk River bridge, which separates Kennebunkport and the Lower Village of Kennebunk. More important, for my purposes, it also marks one of my favorite Maine landmarks: the Clam Shack.
A Kennebunkport institution, the Clam Shack is just that: a stand on the Kennebunk side of the bridge, generally staffed by college students who listen to your order with a great deal of disinterest, take your money and hand you a scrap of paper. “That’s your number.” So you wait, standing in the drizzle, or, if you’re lucky, sitting on a nearby bench. And then your number’s called, and you nod your thanks at the blase college student and make your way over to the river’s grassy embankment, where you sit down on the wet ground and eat the best lobster roll you’ve ever had
Lobster, of course, is a Maine staple, and I enjoy eating as much as, and occasionally more than, my stomach can withstand whenever the opportunity presents itself. But some people, especially the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, aren’t so excited about Maine lobsters, or at least the way lobsters are caught in Maine, which involves keeping them massed together in large containers after they’re caught, as opposed to giving them their individual space in smaller ones. The Whole Foods store in Portland has decided it will sell only lobsters caught by a New Hampshire firm that has demonstrated “animal compassion,” according to news stories.
Oh, I still ate the lobster–a lot of lobster. I ate it at the Clam Shack, at the Cape Pier Chowder House in nearby Cape Porpoise, at Hurricane back in Kennebunkport. But I did think, occasionally, about whether I was eating lobster that had been caught in a way that should make me uncomfortable. And then I worried for a while about everything I don’t know about the way my food is raised and killed or harvested, and then I got heartburn. At which point I decided that as long as I was supporting the local economy and not pouring crude oil into the estuaries, I was going to let myself off the hook. I’m an American, after all. This is our specialty.
Right. Anyway, I snarfed down my delicious Clam Shack lobster roll, in the drizzle, and headed back to the Colony. It was bedtime, and I was anxious to investigate the comfort level of sheets that had been washed in “environmentally safe” laundry detergent. This is according to the hotel brochure, which proudly lists the many other ways in which the Colony earns its numerous environmental accolades, including Cornell University’s Eco-Management Award and the 2004 Governor’s Award for Environmental Excellence.
The measures include aggressive recycling, composting food waste, using non-toxic cleaning supplies, employing organic pest control and, my favorite, “making lint from laundry available for birds for nesting material in spring.”
Whether it was the guilt-free vibes from the sheets or the gentle crash of the waves through the window, I slept better at the Colony than I had in months. In the morning, slightly disoriented from the fresh air and adequate rest, I stumbled downstairs to the lavish breakfast, which is included in the price of the room.
I investigated the area’s many kayaking possibilities–there are also lobster boat cruises and sailing trips for anyone anxious to leave dry land. I got in a bike ride before it started raining again, tooling down the mostly deserted roads, around the shoreline toward Walker’s Point–the surprisingly modest Bush compound–and past gorgeous oceanfront homes with enviable porches.
The following day passed in a haze of rain and lobster-induced euphoria.
I rode a bicycle whenever the rain broke and took the car on a tour of the windswept coast, driving down through Ogunquit and inhaling the succulent blueberry cobbler and robust coffee at the cheerful, bustling Wild Blueberry Cafe.
Later, I stopped in Kennebunkport for an excellent dinner at Bandaloop, which serves seasonal dishes out of organic, locally grown7products. The Vermont cheddar quesadilla is not to be missed. When the storm clouds broke, I had one day left, and instead of spending it on the water, as I sincerely wished to do, I determined there was better material to be mined in the nearby Rachel Carson Wildlife Refuge in Wells, just a few miles from Kennebunkport. (If you haven’t had your fill of lobster by the time you get to Wells, you should make time to visit the Maine Diner, which serves a butter-drenched, mouthwatering lobster pie you’ll be thinking about for days.)
The Carson Refuge, part of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, is a lushly wooded parcel of land surrounded by salt marshes. A self-guided, 1-mile walk allows visitors to move through the changing landscape at their own pace, and the carefully maintained boardwalk path is accessible to both strollers and wheelchairs. Kayakers can often be seen winding their way down the refuge’s multiple waterways.
A mile or so up the road from the Carson Refuge lies Laudholm Farm and the Wells National Estuaraine Research Reserve. A haven for birders and anyone with an interest in conservation, the farm includes a visitor center staffed by friendly volunteers and 7 miles of nature trails that meander through woods, fields and barrier beaches.
A few hours later, back in my room, I decided to take advantage of the silence by lying down on the floor to do my impression of yoga–lying on the floor and breathing. A few minutes later I was asleep, and when I woke up half an hour later, the sun had broken through the clouds and light was glinting off the slate-colored waves.
Good enough, I thought to myself, and hustled off to change into my bathing suit, determined to have a swim before the weather turned again.
As I made my way down to the pool (salt water, heated), something occurred to me: We’re all environmentalists when it comes to our travel experiences. After all, we all want the same things: clean beaches, sane temperatures and fresh, local produce. And, yes, a little bit of sunshine is always nice.
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HIGHLIGHTS
The Colony Hotel
140 Ocean Ave., Kennebunkport
thecolonyhotel.com
800-522-2363
Rates range from $165 to $800+
Bandaloop
2 Dock Square, Kennebunkport
207-967-4994
Wild Blueberry Cafe
82 Shore Rd., Ogunquit
207-646-0990
Cape Pier Chowder House
79 Pier Rd., Cape Porpoise Harbor
207-967-0123
Maine Diner
2265 Post Rd., Wells
207-646-4441
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jreaves@tribune.com
