“This is the most beautiful place on Earth. There are many such places. Every man, every woman, carries in heart and mind the image of the ideal place, the right place, the one true home, known or unknown, actual or visionary.” — Edward Abbey
A trip out west two years ago brought with it fond memories of the first time I spent time Down East. The places visited in Utah and Arizona felt more like landing on another planet. Finding Down East some 25 years ago felt the same way. My wife and I were still us, but we felt better about the day and what we would find around the next corner — both geographically and in the shaping of our future.
Reading Edward Abbey while hiking the Hoodoos of Bryce Canyon and The Narrows in Zion Park, driving through Arches and eventually ending at the Grand Canyon makes the extraordinary more special. Abbey’s words were both companion and mentor during the entire trip.
Abbey was born in Indiana, Pennsylvania. He was an author and essayist known for his critical opinions on public land policies and advocacy for environmental issues. It was when he arrived in Moab, Utah, working as a park ranger that his views on the “wild” landscapes and nature crystallized and took shape. Abbey found himself, and in turn, wrote about it in his fourth book and his first non-fiction book, “Desert Solitaire.”
In many ways Down East has much in common with the places we visited out west. Geographically it is remote. Demographically it is an established, older population devoted to both place and family. Many come here to experience a past’s essence that can only be realized if one is committed to finding it. And though Bryce Canyon and Zion are national parks visited by many, any time spent there or in a place like Down East, one can easily find that place — within a place — to find themselves.
Down East as we’ve experienced it is a member of the family for the generations of people who call it home. The old ways remain the foundation, and not much in the way of change comes around without a good deal of introspection and debate amongst the community. In a Down East home there is a constant seat at the dining room table for this place that provides comfort and family in community.
“There is no land more kind than home! Where you have found your happiness!”
— Edward Abbey
My wife and I moved here 10 years ago. We both walked away from work and decided to pursue a life we did not yet know. Down East seemed as though it was a different planet held within our field of vision, but now it is our planet and we are better for it in many ways.
It is the ideal place for us and many others. Its essence is unmatched because of its proximity to the past. Much of the land, especially its granite faced coastline, sits and contemplates life while we gingerly hike from boulder to boulder taking in the grandness of it all. The whispers that cling to our backpacks glisten in the sunlight, refracts the eons of time into an hour of primordial pleasure.
“A man on foot, on horseback or on a bicycle will see more, feel more, enjoy more in one mile than the motorized tourists can in a hundred miles.”
— Edward Abbey
But that hour is fragile just as the place that embraces it is. This place we call home is slowly pushing its chair away from the table. The more we add the more we take away from this place. Change is in the air. We all can feel it. Many of us ignore it, think it will not last, think it will dissolve amongst the whispers that, too, are slowly fading away with the tides.
“Wilderness is not a luxury but a necessity of the human spirit, and as vital to our lives as water and good bread. A civilization which destroys what little remains of the wild, the spare, the original, is cutting itself off from its origins and betraying the principle of civilization itself.”
— Edward Abbey
Some would argue, change is necessary for our future. They are partially right. The essentials of a home, a job, a safe, secure and welcoming community are things we all want no matter our age. Are they easy to acquire? Certainly not, but comparing what is here now to that, say, 50 years ago, we are more complete yet still have work to do.
I tell myself all is not lost. Each of us who have chosen to sit at the dinner table can coax the Down East chair back to its place-setting. All we need to do is be honest with ourselves, be true to the reason we are here and while we break bread give thanks to those that came before us. Preserve what we can when we can while also keeping the essentials we need to live life close by so that future generations, too, can one day find themselves a place like this and call it home.