May 2014
Oh…the dreary memory of this long past winter is finally retreating. Time for my wanderlust to awaken and tempt me to the places I hold dear. My yard cleared of winter litter, and my new—slightly used—boat readied for adventures. I harken back to the first weekend of June 2013.
Admittedly, it’s sometimes a challenge to find a locale that stands out from Maine’s 4,613 picturesque islands, but low and behold, one beckoned. Perusing Maine Atlas, Map # 16, I’ve looked at this island more than a few times, but given its proximity to the peopled shores of Cranberry and Mount Desert Islands, I had skipped over it in search of more far-flung shores. However, on that long ago weekend, it was time.
Four or more miles southeast of Mount Desert is a roundish looking island of 123 acres called Baker Island. First settled in the early 1800s, it was once home to the Gilley and Stanley families, who farmed and fished for a living. Nearly two centuries later, the only evidence of the island’s former inhabitants is a lovely cemetery of ashen stones, old cottages, and stony cellars. Mostly covered with spruce woods, a swaft of grassy meadow still remains, leading toward a lighthouse in the middle of the island. Today, Baker Island is part of Acadia National Park.
The island’s shoreline is a tumble of pink boulders and craggy ledges, broken occasionally by flat slabs of granite. One such series of shelves was christened the Dance Floor where people have been known to socialize and waltz. Given the rugged shoreline, it’s difficult to make landfall and disembark unless you have a dinghy. Fortunately, I timed the tides just right for this trip. A couple of hours before low tide, I lighted on a stretch of seaweed-covered stones. In little time, the water had sieved away leaving the boat high and dry until the incoming tide.
After setting anchor, we had lunch on the shore before setting off for the island’s interior. As we crested a spine of pink granite, we spied the cemetery where past generations of Gilley and Stanley Families reside. Beyond was a grassy pathway winding past a series of rustic cottages, and still farther beyond was the Baker Island Lighthouse. Built upon a prominence of land, the lighthouse beacon is one-hundred and five feet above the surrounding sea. Like most Maine islands, songbird and rabbit abound. Several times, we were surprised by the sight of whitetail, seemingly unperturbed by our presence. No doubt, the remnants of an apple orchard make this a paradise for deer.
Personally, I’ve never visited a lighthouse situated so far from shore, but its location made sense given the 360 degree view. Regrettably, we didn’t have time to seek out the island’s Dance Floor. Instead, we headed back to the beach where we flew Angry Bird kites and waited for the rising tide. We vowed to return again someday—perhaps, this June?
