Exploring Birch and Dix Islands
We slipped past Rockland Breakwater Lighthouse on a flat, calm morning. The sea reflected the sky and the Camden Hills like a mirror. Warm morning light bathed Owls Head and its pretty little lighthouse as we motored around the point. The trip to the Dix Island anchorage was uneventful, aside from the entrance, which was strewn with lobster buoys and rocks. When we arrived, the anchorage was fairly busy (12 boats!) but we found a good spot to anchor, and as the day progressed, several boats moved on.
We’re excited to begin exploring new anchorages, and this one is an amazing start with all its pretty little islands. Among several private islands there are also places to go ashore – Birch Island is a Maine Island Trail Association island, and Dix is privately held but the owners welcome cruisers to walk its perimeter.
We couldn’t wait to go ashore, but it would have to wait for the end of the work day. As soon as we closed our laptops, we dinghied over to Birch – there are no paths, but there’s plenty of beach to explore on the lower half of the tide. We made a brief trip out to the eastern end, but the sandy causeway connecting it to the main body of the island quickly disappears with the rising tide, so we didn’t dare stay long. It was already flooding as we made our way back.
The island smells like… like every memory I have of the beach from when I was little – that mix of sweet rosa rugosa, warm sand, and the musky scent of seaweed. Sea lavender grows in cracks in the yellow lichen-covered granite boulders. Seagulls patrol the rocky shore, while inland, a handful of spruce host a variety of birds. The island is New England summer, all in one neat little package. Back aboard, we enjoyed dinner in the cockpit as the sun sank below the horizon and the pinky-orange near-full moon rose.
This morning’s sunrise was radiant, bathing the anchorage in warm, golden light. Coffee in hand, we wandered Dix Island’s perimeter trail, the salt air mingling with the scent of spruce, grateful for the chance to take in the island’s views. We came across old quarry sites and long-abandoned equipment—the island’s granite had once helped build the New York and Philadelphia post offices. Lobster traps slowly being devoured by vines, an old bathtub left inexplicably in a field, a heap of rusting metal that had once been a car—I couldn’t help but wonder what stories they might tell. We ended our walk at a granite sculpture on the rocky shore, perfectly framing Windara as if she were always meant to be part of the scene.
After work, we revisited Birch and wandered the back side of the island. There’s something amazing about walking the beach at low tide and realizing that where you stand will be fully underwater in just a few hours. Although I grew up in a tidal, coastal area, the magic of “walking under water” never disappears. Barnacles close up tight against the dry air, seaweed hangs limp, hermit crabs scurry about in the tidal pools and the air smells sweetly briny.
We paused to sit on one of the giant boulders at the southwest end of the island, drinking it all in as the sun slipped closer to the horizon, casting a warm, amber glow over the landscape. In that quiet light, the world seemed to slow, and for a few perfect moments, we were simply present, soaking in the island’s peaceful stillness.
