WHY I LOVE ME, 32

Curtis Island in the moonlight
Photo: Deb

"I am a rock. I am an island." Love their music, but that Simon and Garfunkle are two weird dudes. This week's Why I Love ME post is not about weird dudes, though Lord knows there's enough of them around to post about every day, but it is about a rock... an island. Welcome to Curtis Island off the coast of Camden, Maine.

Fifteen minutes by kayak off the coast of Camden, Maine is Curtis Island and the Curtis Island Light. It wasn't always called Curtis Island, though. Originally it's name was Negro Island named after a black cook who worked for the light keeper. God forbid they used the cook's name. If he had been white, it would have been Whitey Island, or maybe Honky Island. I will go no further with this...as much as it's killing me.

In 1934 the name Negro Island was changed to Curtis Island after Cyrus H. (Honky) K. (Kat) Curtis, the publisher of the Saturday Evening Post and the Ladies Home Journal who summered in Camden and donated lots of money to the town. Curtis apparently bribed the Camden Namer of Islands with one hell of a payoff as that island still carries his name.

To get to Curtis Island you need a boat - that's why it's an island. One side of the island has a gravely beach at low tide where you can drag a kayak up. If it's high tide, good luck. There is a set of scary wooden stairs that bring you up a short steep cliff where a small wooden stand with a guest book attached to it awaits you. People from all over the world have made the trek to Curtis Island and have signed that guest book telling where they're from as well as comments reflecting their surprise when landing on the island. Yes, I said surprise.

Curtis Island is quite unique. It's not your typical hunk of rock with pine trees. When you turn around after signing the guest book and take in the surroundings, it is amazing. There are three ways to get to the light house on the far side of the island: two paths traversing each side of the island hugging the edge of rocky cliffs that drop to the water below. Along each path you will find a bench, anchored into the rock, very close to the edge of the cliff where you can sit and hope they used rock anchors to secure that sucker and not thumb tacks.

There is also a mowed path smack dab in the middle of the island from the side facing the land to the side facing the ocean. As you walk down that path, the pines tower over you. About half way through on the left is a very tall pine with the tallest tree swing I've ever seen (remember, I don't get out much). Two very long lengths of rope around a branch threaded and knotted on each end of a slab of wood. No high tech stuff here. This is Maine, remember?

Once you get your stomach in check post-swinging and continue on, you come to the caretaker's cottage, gardens and the light house. Two adult-sized Adirondack chairs and one child-sized Adirondack are perched next to the light house and overlook Penobscot Bay with two tree stumps as footrests. I've never seen a kid out on the island (thank God) and have seldom run into anyone else out there. The schooners sail out of the harbor and have to round Curtis Island for their 2-hour tourists tours and they are majestic as they quietly sail by with the landlubbers pointing and yelling, "Look at the eagle!" as a seagull flaps by crapping on their hat.

Speaking of eagles, Curtis Island was home to a nesting pair of bald eagles a few years ago. One baby eagle survived and was named "Sparky" by an unofficial vote of the townspeople. Why "Sparky"? 'Cause that sh*t bird screwed up the 4th of July fireworks by living there. At the time they were a protected species and you can't be blasting fireworks within so many yards of their home. Hell, you couldn't even set foot on the island while they were there, and that included the caretakers.

Sparky has since moved on, the bald eagles have made a terrific comeback and every now and then you can paddle around the island and see one perched high on a pine watching you with his protractor and calculator trying to figure out the laws of physics, your weight, and how fast he can shred a human being while in flight.

There is a local outfitter that runs kayak tours of the area. One of their trips is a paddle out to Curtis Island where you can sit and have some wine and cheeeeeze. Idiots. For heaven's sake, a box of white cheddar Cheez-Its and a bottle of Poland Spring moose pee water is all you need. Damned yuppies.

Curtis Island light is now automated and there is need for a light house keeper. The cool thing is that the light is green. Last I knew, a husband and wife have been the caretakers of the cottage and grounds out there for many years. The town of Camden has owned and maintained the island since 1998. It is a gorgeous spot, so close to the mainland yet seldom visited, which is just the way we like it here.

When you leave the island and descend those creepy stairs, look up. You will see Camden Harbor and the town with it's church spires set against the The Camden Hills, including Mt. Battie and Mt. Megunticook, just beyond the shoreline. If you go at the end of the day, the sun sets just to the left of those two mountains, over smaller mountains in the distance, the wind dies and the water turns to glass in a flat calm with shades of pinks, purples and oranges. You can kayak in stealth mode past the yachties who sit on their moored boats reading the New York Times then scare the bejesus out of them by yelling "Hello!" 'cause they never hear you coming.

Curtis Island, Photo by Greg Currier

Curtis Island is way too far for you all to get to, so you will just have to settle for dreaming about it and looking at the perty pictures, 'cause no way in hell am I telling you the logistics of getting here from there and then getting there from here. There are enough wine and cheeeeeze people in the world as it is, but despite that, now do you love ME?


Photos:

Greg Currier - check out his site for some gorgeous Maine photos
Me (like in moi, not ME)
Who the hell knows? They were on the web, so I took 'em.

Resources:

New England Lighthouses: A Virtual Guide