When a historic ice storm assaulted the Northeast in January, knocking out electrical power for more than half a million people, Raymond '70 and Madelon Toll Kelly '72 were a beacon of light. Since relocating to the Maine woods eight years ago, the Kellys have lived without a connection to the power grid, relying instead on solar power to run their computer, television, refrigerator, and the rest of the usual array of electrical gadgetry. (Click here to see two photographs: The Kellys and their solar panels and an interior view of the home --102K--). A solar-powered home in sunshine-challenged Maine? The Kellys' devotion to alternative power struck many people as odd&emdash;until the aftermath of the January 8 storm. A week later, while most people in their region struggled without heat and electricity, the Kellys were helping out their neighbors with offers of hot showers and a chance to watch the pro football play-offs.
"The storm proved to be a great advertisement for solar-powered systems, which are self-reliant in even the most trying of conditions," Ray says. "As we offered assistance to our neighbors, I thought we were a bit like Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer. Our solar-powered lives are usually thought to be eccentric, but on an icy, foggy night...."
Despite their concern for the environment, Madelon and Raymond Kelly didn't think a house off the electricity grid was a practical idea when they got ready to relocate from Pennsyl-vania to the woods outside of Wash-ington, Maine. But the news from Central Maine Power Company got them to give solar power a second look: Their dream property was so far off the beaten track it would have cost the Kellys an estimated $20,000 to get hooked up.
"At that point," Raymond recalls, "we realized we could develop a pretty good solar-energy system for the same amount of money. A lot of people doubted that the technology would be sufficient, but we decided to take a gamble."
As the Kellys are happily demonstrating, life off the grid doesn't have to be an exercise in deprivation. Ninety feet long and more than 3,000 square feet in area, their home is surrounded by 80 mostly wooded acres, a large pond with beaver lodges, and a corral that is home to two horses and six goats. (In addition, they have four dogs, 11 cats, and three egg-laying ducks. Then there's the local wildlife&emdash;geese, blue herons, deer, turkeys, and the occasional bear and moose.)
One key to their off-the-grid existence is a bank of 32 photovoltaic cells attached to the roof. Arrayed in four long rows facing south for optimum exposure, the cells capture sunlight and send the resulting electrons through a short path of regulators and converters that transform the energy into usable&emdash;and storable&emdash;electricity. To get the Kellys through cloudy days, 24 large DC batteries store the excess power generated during periods of abundant sunshine. Their equipment, in 1989 dollars, totaled under $17,000&emdash;less than what they would have paid for an umbilical cord to the electric power system.
The gadgetry, although crucial, is only part of a larger design for maximum energy efficiency. The north side of the house&emdash;the cold side&emdash;is protected by trees and an earthen berm. The south side, by contrast, is wide open to the sun. Even in the winter, the sun's rays pour in through large double-glazed windows and settle on a solar-friendly ceramic tile floor. The floor draws additional warmth from a network of warm-water tubes running just below the tile. To get them through the long winter nights, the Kellys keep a wood stove burning. And to ensure that none of this hard-earned heat is squandered, the house is insulated to the hilt, with fiberglass, sheet rock, and a reflective insulating material called "foil ray."
The same efficiency is built into the Kellys' electricity consumption. They use fluorescent lights, which use less electricity than bulbs, and a miserly refrigerator that runs on DC (rather than the conventional AC) power. Electricity hogs like hair dryers and irons&emdash;whose heating coils require lots of energy&emdash;are verboten. For peace of mind, the Kellys have a propane generator ready to keep the current flowing in a pinch.
"One of the nice things about this is that the power company didn't have to come in here with poles and wires, knocking out trees," Raymond says. "Our use of solar power has saved this two-mile stretch from being superdeveloped."
Their reliance on the sun has made the Kellys more subject to the vagaries of nature. For instance, the washing machine strains their electricity supply; after a string of cloudy days, doing the wash is out of the question. "I get an odd look sometimes when I remark to someone at work, 'Great. Finally a sunny day. I can do laundry,'" Raymond says. "When you know where your electricity is coming from, you tend to be less wasteful."
Being dependent on nature has made the Kellys more appreciative of it. The changing of seasons becomes more relevant to day-to-day life; the solstice takes on a new significance. "We have definitely become more aware of the weather," Madelon says.
Even before moving to Maine, the Kellys had no electricity bills. They lived at the Grier School in Tyrone, Pa., where Raymond was headmaster and Madelon headed the Science Department. The Kellys&emdash;who met as students on a College-sponsored outing to Assateague Island off the coast of Maryland&emdash;had always shared a love of nature. Midway through their second decade at the boarding school, they began to talk more seriously about their longtime dream of living in the Maine woods. By making that dream a reality, and a solar one at that, they still have the remarkable distinction of going through adulthood without once paying a cent to a power company.
"We like being independent of electricity and fossil fuels," Madelon says. "The beauty of solar power is that it's renewable. It's not contributing to global warming and acid rain. It's a technology that's here and one that we need to emphasize more in this society. The way we see it, if you can do it in Maine, you can do it anywhere.
"As you can see," she adds, "I like to proselytize about this."
The Kellys, despite their wariness of fossil-fuel consumption, remain dependent on it for their livelihoods; they both commute by car to their jobs. Raymond coordinates programs for gifted and talented students at the high school in Rockland, on the coast. Madelon drives in the other direction to her manager's position at a bookstore in Augusta.
But in most other ways, they have forged a life of their back-to-nature dreams. They produce much of their own food, harvesting milk from their goats, eggs from their ducks, and everything from beets to zucchini from their 2,000-square-foot organic garden. To hike in the woods, they need go no farther than out the front door. And though they were initially isolated on their wooded property, which is accessed only by a gravel lane with the appropriate name Old Country Road, community has followed them. Since the Kellys moved into their home eight years ago, four other families have built solar homes in the vicinity, creating a virtual Solar Row in the north woods. The Kellys have also gotten involved in local politics, and Madelon volunteers as the acquisitions chief at the public library in nearby Washington.
The Kellys now have two daughters at Swarthmore&emdash;Morgan '98 and Portia '01.
"Our lifestyle and values come in many ways from spending four years at Swarthmore," Madelon Kelly explains, leading a visitor down one of the new hiking trails they've been forging on their property. "To us, living responsibly has meant living in a way that is as nonpolluting as possible. It's a relatively simple but good lifestyle."
Raymond adds: "To me, it's pretty well summed up by the road sign you see when you cross the border into Maine: 'Life as it should be.'"
Tom Krattenmaker, the College's director of public relations, is hooked to the grid in Yardley, Bucks County, Pa.