On a clear evening, Portland Harbor at dusk is exquisite. Gulls swoop overhead, riding the breeze; their gray and white bodies stand out against the luminous magenta sky.
The sun drops silently below the western horizon, silhouetting, then sinking behind, Maine's largest city. The ocean laps lightly against a seawall. A restaurant on the waterfront bustles with activity as locals and tourists alike dine while watching the transition to dusk. The view from Peaks Island, situated right outside Portland Harbor in Casco Bay, is amazingly beautiful.
The same view, albeit slightly less extraordinary, can be seen from the Casco Bay Lines ferry terminal at Portland Harbor, the point of departure for Peaks. An hour before the 7:15 p.m. ferry is due to leave, only one other person sits waiting on the bench at the dock: an elderly woman with deep wrinkles and gray hair.
She seems very content to just pick through the contents of her purse, searching the small bag for something that, to a spectator, seems not to be there. Maybe she's just occupying herself, or satisfying a compulsive streak.
Slowly, as the time of departure approaches, a variety of people show up at the terminal: two lobstermen in their late twenties (one sucking violently on his Marlboro as if someone were about to take it from him; the other deep in thought), a man carrying the backpacks of two elementary-school age kids (his daughter and her friend) who are giggling uncontrollably at some secret joke, a teenage girl flipping through a magazine disinterestedly, a middle-aged couple (both of whom look absurd in their sunglasses) carrying a carpet, three teenage boys talking about video games.
The Marlboro lobsterman, as it were, walks over to the teenage girl and stares at her for a moment. She looks up and raises her eyebrows. "What grade are you in now?" he asks. A beat. They begin to converse about various topics. The dad greets the middle-aged couple and asks about their new rug. The teenage boys keep to themselves. The two little kids talk to the thoughtful lobsterman about a TV show. The elderly woman continues looking through her purse.
A sudden awareness hits me: everyone knows each other. There is this deep sense of community among the population of Peaks Island.
Finally, the captain gives the okay and the motley crowd files on board, with one exception. The old woman does not get up. As the last passenger boards the ship, a white-haired man in his seventies rushes into the terminal. The elderly woman's face lights up, she stops what she is doing, and closes her pocketbook. She puts her bag on her shoulder and boards the ferry, lending the impression that she has finally found what she was looking for.
The gangplank is taken in, the railing locked into place, and the ferry pulled away from Portland toward Peaks with a long blast of the horn.
In the 1600s, the explorer John Smith proclaimed the islands in Casco Bay to be the Calendar Islands because, as the story goes, "there is one for every day of the year." Although it seems Smith was slightly prone to exaggeration, there are certainly more than 100 islands in the Casco Bay.
Peaks Island, three miles from Portland, has the largest population of any of the Calendar Islands, with about 1,000 residents living on the island's 740 acres year-round. During the summer months, the population of Peaks jumps to almost 6,000, with many day-trippers engaging in various activities on the island.
In the summer there is much to do on Peaks. Bikes are available for rent; one can cruise around the island's five-mile shore road, which, on the side facing away from Portland, has incredible views of Casco Bay that give no hint that you are only a few miles from the city.
Kayaks and kayak tours of Casco Bay are also offered June through August. If you have your own bike or kayak, these activities, along with hiking, are available throughout the fall, weather permitting. For those in excellent physical condition, there is a two-mile swim race from Peaks to Portland every year on the last weekend in July.
Three restaurants, one with live reggae music on Sundays, and two bakeries along with a renowned ice-cream shop grace the island. Unfortunately, all of these food establishments, with the exception of the Bakery on the Bay, are closed by September 1.
Peaks is a wonderful place to get away from it all, easy to get to, and yet a world away from Brunswick and the fast pace of academic and social life. It is a world unto itself.
Ferries, both passenger and automotive, depart from the Casco Bay Lines terminal at the north end of Commercial Street in Portland at least ten times daily, year-round. The terminal is exactly 25 miles south of Brunswick on Interstate 295 ?about thirty minutes from Bowdoin by car, depending on traffic.
For the twenty-five minute ride to Peaks on the ferry, the fare is $6.00 per passenger. The return ride is free of charge. The last boat leaves the island at 11:55 p.m. daily with some exceptions. It is worth checking the ferry schedule lest one get stuck on the island overnight. And yet, were that to happen, it does not seem like all too cruel a fate.