Baleen and I are headed from Santorini to Ios. Tough life. We'll get off the ferry and either get Peter, the British fella who visited Ios in 1979 and never left, to boat us over to Klima or hike the goat trail. With four of five days of provisions, including kerosene for the gas lamps, odds are we're paying Peter, especially as Baleen flatly refused my idea of making dinner carry dinner, "I will not lead a sheep to slaughter."
It's been over ten years since I've been to the beach electricity forgot. It's not a Back to the Land retreat, though, as we're bringing what we're eating, but there is well water, and kerosene lamps for light.
The lamps are what I remember most from that decade ago, the first and only time I've ever used one. They came with strict instructions not to break any, as relying on them is like driving around a classic car; whenever it breaks (the glass, in the case of the gas lamp), you're deep onto eBay and visiting garage sales looking for more of what they don't make any more. And as we're nine hours ahead of PST, could be that Baleen and I are reading by the light of one now. Or, more likely, playing hangman.
It's been over ten years since I've been to the beach electricity forgot. It's not a Back to the Land retreat, though, as we're bringing what we're eating, but there is well water, and kerosene lamps for light.
The lamps are what I remember most from that decade ago, the first and only time I've ever used one. They came with strict instructions not to break any, as relying on them is like driving around a classic car; whenever it breaks (the glass, in the case of the gas lamp), you're deep onto eBay and visiting garage sales looking for more of what they don't make any more. And as we're nine hours ahead of PST, could be that Baleen and I are reading by the light of one now. Or, more likely, playing hangman.
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