Last weekend was a wet weekend, close and humid, with the rain, at times, coming down hard. There were also tornado warnings, very unusual for Maine, which made us all anxious. Whatever their size, tornados are a terrifying event, and even small ones can do a lot of damage and can even take lives. Fortunately, no tornados came to the Winthrop area, just a lot of bad, humid weather. 

However, last Friday was a lovely day—the calm before the storm—and as my husband, Clif, only works half-days at home on Friday, we decided to go on a bike ride in the afternoon. In fact, we had rather ambitious plans. Not only would we go on a bike ride along Memorial Drive, our favorite lakeside ride, but we would also do errands along the way—go to the bookstore, the post office, and the library, and, finally, pedal to Hannaford to pick up a few groceries. We only live a mile or so from town, which means that in theory pedaling to all these places is not a big deal. However, sometimes theory and reality collide, and this is certainly the case when it comes to riding to Hannaford, which is at the top of a steep hill. A very steep hill. An incredibly steep hill. 

All went well with our Memorial Drive ride and with our bookstore, post office, and library errands. The ride up the hill to Hannaford was, shall we say, a bit of a challenge, and it was with great relief when we finally rode into the parking lot and hitched our bikes to the wooden fence that is off to one side. After catching our breaths and regaining our composure, we adjusted our backpacks and headed into the store. The reactions we got made that hill completely worthwhile. 

In Winthrop, it is somewhat unusual for people to ride their bikes to the grocery store. All right, it is very unusual. Most people come in their cars. So when the young man collecting the grocery carts gave us a double take, it was completely understandable. 

“Did you come on your bikes?” he asked. 

“We did,” I answered. 

“Wow!” He replied. “It’s pretty hot.” It might have been my imagination, but I think there was admiration in his voice. 

Once inside, an employee, about our age, helped us find garbage bags and spent a few minutes talking to us about bikes. He is also a biker—he has two—and he briefly told us about a bike ride he took from New Hampshire to Maine. A long way with lots of hills. 

The young man at the checkout gave us a bemused look as we put our knapsacks on the bag counter. Into the knapsacks went a rotisserie chicken, rolls, sour cream, garbage bags, and a few other things. Clif carried most of the groceries, but I tucked a few around the library books in my bag. Everything fit, and after we paid and were about to head out, the young man said, “Have a safe ride home.” Again, it might have been my imagination, but along with the concern there seemed to be a hint of admiration in his voice. 

As we left, I had two thoughts, pretty much simultaneously. That is, if we keep this up, we will become known as the town eccentrics, and yet  I couldn’t help but think that along with being eccentrics, we were also being good examples. We were coming to the store in a way that was not only healthy but also environmentally friendly, and it seems to me that example is far more powerful than preaching. If we live our lives according to our environmental values then maybe, just maybe, we will encourage others to do the same. 

That is the hope, anyway, which goes right along with Bill McKibben’s eearth, the book I bought that day at Apple Valley Books. In eearth, McKibben writes that climate change is here, and the centuries of our “sweet time” on Earth are over. We are living on a new Earth, one we humans have changed, if not irrevocably then for a very long time. Because of this, we will now be facing harder times as the climate becomes harsher and harsher. As McKibben puts it, “The planet on which our civilization evolved no longer exists.” 

McKibben is right, and it is easy to fall into a kind of hopelessness when reading his book. However, this I refuse to do. Instead, I will hang my laundry outside, drive as little as possible, and ride my bike as much as I can. I’ve written this before, and I will write it again: I know I am only one person, but it is my firm belief that it is my responsibility to do what I can, to live as lightly as possible. 

That Friday night, I made chicken tarragon salad and broiled some homemade bread with olive oil and oregano. My husband and I were both good eaters, and the food was especially delicious. We had earned our supper. 

We discussed the hill, that dratted hill, and how it was our summer goal to become good enough riders so that the hill isn’t a problem anymore. And after that, who knows? To the pub in Hallowell? To the Theater at Monmouth? This is central Maine, and there are lots of hills along the way to each town. 

But our philosophy is this: bike on, dudes!