Mastering "Leave No Trace"

We island-hop over the next couple of days, continuing lessons in our open-air, pink-granite classroom. A bald eagle visits us on three consecutive days, we learn about the Labrador current that keeps these waters at the temperature of a perfectly chilled martini, and we discuss the plight of endangered right and minke whales. Most of the principles—plan ahead and prepare, travel and camp on durable surfaces, dispose of waste properly, leave what you find, minimize campfire impacts, respect wildlife, be considerate of other visitors—are straightforward and come down to an understanding that, like those pesky butterflies whose beating wings influence the weather on the other side of the globe, our actions affect others.

On the way to Turtle Island, Nature Conservancy land we need permission to visit, we paddle past black guillemots and cormorants and hear the call of a green-throated warbler. Not far from shore is a group of seals, and I fight the urge to paddle toward their bobbing heads. Respecting wildlife, which involves observing wild animals from a distance, is one of the LNT principles that is supposed to become reflex knowledge this week. Right now, however, I want to go see the cute little buggers. I have reached my first crossroads and decide not to give in to my impulse, because I know what the"right" thing to do is. It feels like returning cash to the lost and found.

I now realize that the most challenging part of teaching these ethics is living up to the responsibility that comes with them. If I talk the talk, I have to walk the walk.

Before heading up to Maine, I feared being lectured to by uncompromising Leave No Trace disciples who would rap my knuckles with a trekking pole should I accidentally leave behind a noodle of macaroni. Their obvious talent aside, I had convinced myself that these people were all environmental holier-than-thous, spreading the LNT gospel with the same fervor and good intentions as the door-knocking missionaries who spread their own good news.

Fortunately, my concerns were never realized. By the time we paddled out to Turtle, it was clear that the only things being shoved down my throat were the rice and beans on that night's dinner menu.