Prudence Island: Musings From
A Trip Back in Time

by Amy Scholten, M.P.H.

I've always enjoyed going off the beaten path and exploring places that aren't so well known. Weary of the gross homogenization, commercialization, and crowding of popular vacation spots, I long for respite in places that are pristine. So when I read about Prudence Island, Rhode Island in early 2006, I was intrigued. I had lived in New England for most of my life and yet, it wasn't until I was 42 years old that I had actually heard of this place. What intrigued me most about Prudence Island was that it was described as “a trip back in time,” which was a welcome balm for the persistent yearnings of my often jaded and overwhelmed midlife soul.

I learned that Prudence Island—nineteen miles off the coast of Bristol, Rhode Island—was one of the few places left on the New England coast that had no traffic or traffic lights, no restaurants, no malls, no garish establishments, and no crowds. It also boasted 700 acres of conservation land, beautiful salt marshes, ancient woodlands, solitary beaches in the middle of summer, as well as abundant flowers, birds, deer, and other wildlife…. right in the middle of the Narragansett Bay. Fortunately, it didn't take long to convince my equally crowd-weary husband Brian to plan a summer vacation there that year.

A Voyage to the Past Begins

So in July 2006, we loaded up the car, complete with our Swedish Vallhund Nina and our bikes, and drove onto a small ferry for a short ride across the Narragansett Bay. Within about 25 minutes, a loud blast from the ferry horn signaled our descent upon the quaint charm of Prudence Island. Across the road and up the hill was our rental cottage. It was delightfully modest with a vague, damp, musty scent that reminded me of childhood days spent in rental cottages on Cape Cod when it was quieter and quainter. A warm ocean breeze blew through the bedroom curtains. Seagulls screeched into the afternoon sun. In the distance I could hear the tinkling sounds of a sailboat docked on the bay. Enveloped in comfort, I felt as if time had gone backward.

Prudence mornings began early, we learned, as a brilliant sun rose over the Narragansett Bay directly into our bedroom, topped off with a startling ferry horn blast. We also had a rather noisy neighbor—the “mocking bird from hell”—who sat atop the nearest spruce tree, imitating cardinals, seagulls, blue jays, and a vast number of other birds, chattering and whistling nonstop from the wee hours of the evening through to the morning.

Steamy Days and Solitary Beaches

Steamy days began with dog walks that languished along the shores of gravel beaches. Lunches were followed by brief “siestas,” and then bike rides alongside magnificent salt marshes. The roads were safe and relatively barren, offering postcard views of piers, sailboats dancing in the shimmering bay, and the infamous Prudence Lighthouse. Most afternoons culminated with a trip to a solitary sandy beach where modest salt waves slapped us cool again. We were delighted to find that the warm sand, the whispering ocean breeze, the fresh and invigorating salt air, and the screeching gulls were ours alone. And

after a short trip home for dinner, we'd return to the beach once again with Nina, to frolic in ethereal summer sunsets, explore tidal pools, and dig for clams… wishing that it would just last. And then, after nature had washed away any remaining traces of tension, we would head home, catching glimpses of deer and other wildlife along the way. One perfect summer day followed another.

During the course of many walks and bike rides, we were delighted by the friendliness of the Prudence natives, waving as they passed by. As in slower and saner decades, there were no strangers in this small community. On a few occasions, we stopped by the general store at the pier for some food items. Rather than the hurried, impersonal exchange of goods and services that we were used to back home, we found that the natives enjoyed “hanging out” on the pier and were curious and eager to engage us in conversation.

An Unexpected Return to 1979

One night we decided to attend an old-fashioned chowder contest, anonymously making our way through a group of islanders, intensely engaged in their conversations. How wonderful…a community where people still get together and talk! It appeared that the seclusion of island life offered more social bridges than a busy city. Little did I know that in the close-knit community of Prudence Island, I was about to take a bridge to my past.

Before Brian and I began sampling chowder, I glanced around and became surprisingly aware of the presence of someone I knew long ago…someone who brought me back to the spring of 1979 when I was a sophomore in high school in Worcester, Massachusetts. It was Albert (not his real name)—I'm sure of it. Forty-something, a little taller, with a few creases around his eyes, he was still surprisingly boyish-looking, closely resembling his teenaged self. And suddenly I felt a surge of teen angst and self-consciousness bubbling up inside. Perhaps he wouldn't recognize me, I hoped. It had been 27 years since I was that chunky, awkward, 15-year-old late bloomer who “crushed” on Al while his friend Kenny wooed my friend Katy to the prom. Al's sweet friends told me he was shy and “not into girls” back then. Many times that spring he stood with his group of friends, and I with mine, each of us discretely glancing back and forth at each other, occasionally daring to share a smile. But the memory quickly faded as I blossomed and, to my relief, eventually captured the attention of other boys (sorry Al!).

So here I was in 2006, many boyfriends and a husband later, on Prudence Island of all places, as Al stood with his group of friends, and I with my husband, discretely glancing over at him, and feeling every bit as self-conscious as my 15-year-old self. Would he recognize me at 42? Would he think I was weird enough to stalk him after 27 years? I had hoped that between my age, more slender figure, straight teeth, long pony tailed hair, baseball hat, and makeup, I didn't resemble my 15-year-old self at all. I peered over at him one last time. “Let's go home,” I said to Brian, self-consciously wanting to slink away. I had had enough of feeling 15 again. So putting our arms around each other, Brian and I walked down to the car as I smiled and said to myself, “Eat your heart out, Al!”

The Perfect Storm…The Perfect Ending

A few evenings later after we had gone to bed, a series of intense thunderstorms descended on Prudence Island and kept us awake for a good part of the night. It was so hot and humid that night that Brian and I weren't comfortable sleeping in a small double bed together, so I got up and slept by myself in another bedroom. As the storms pummeled the island and blew the curtains right off the window, I lay in bed watching a magnificent lightning display through the skylights, with thorough enjoyment. As a young child of 4 or 5, I was terrified by nighttime thunderstorms and would call out for my mother. I'm not sure what happened between then and adulthood that led me from terror of thunderstorms to complete enthrallment with them. Because at this point in life, being on a small island in the midst of a series of severe thunderstorms was about as good as it got. To experience a larger than life display of the unbridled, unalterable power of nature in an increasingly human-altered ecosystem was as awesome as it was humbling. Perhaps, like Prudence Island itself, the storms struck a deep cord in me, as they filled my summers from long ago…once again taking me on a trip back in time.

Soon the Prudence ferry was bringing us back to our everyday 2006 lives. Looking back on the island shrinking in the distance, I felt at peace with my “time travel” experience. In truth I still longed for the simplicity of previous decades. Prudence taught me that I could still find it. But alas, it also revealed to me that I would never want to be 15 again….or 5!