Castine

It is a sunny Saturday morning and lunch in Castine seems like a wonderful prospect. i.e., “Why don’t we run down to Castine for lunch?” …as if we actually live here and it is just a common thing to do. And I love the name—Castine—like it holds some type of enchanted promise.

Lured by its rocky promontory that we see when gazing across Penobscot Bay, we make our way to the car and lunch. Approximately six miles as the bird flies, the drive takes us almost fifty minutes. However, we have driven farther and longer for lunch in Texas.

The Heart of Castine

As we drive past the Maine Mariners Academy and into the heart of the village I tell Michael, “This is it. This is the place I remember from fifteen years ago, the one I told Heather about. The town that made me wish we could spend a summer in Maine.”

It is also the home of Dyce Head Lighthouse, the reason we even found it so many years before. At lands end, it is a place of intended purpose, not a place to happen upon. It is charming and quiet. Peaceful. It is Saturday morning in Maine. I am forever being reminded of the allure of this place.

At the moment, parking in the harbor lot is plentiful. We walk to the railing and watch as a mega sailing yacht tries to parallel park next to the town dock. He blows his bow thrusters, and docking becomes more of a challenge. There are many helpers and onlookers, and later I discover that many are waiting to board. I wish that I knew the captain too.

The harbor activity makes me long for the days of Island Rose. But, not the docking part.

Docks along the harbor at Castine, Maine

Lunch is a Dark & Stormy accompanied by perfectly fried oysters, sitting on the sunny side of the picnic bench at Dennet’s Wharf Oyster Bar. Mike just has to get the fried clams.

Dyce Head Lighthouse

We drive to the point of land jutting into the bay—the point of land we can see from our cottage—and fifteen years later find the lighthouse which drew us here years ago. More adventurous now than then, and with more time to explore, we follow a trail down to the sea. Because what would a Saturday be without teetering steps to descend, rocky shores to explore, and a sailboat race to watch?

The clouds that threatened the sun all morning have finally won the day. The cool air pushes us up and off the rocks, back to our waiting car… and our cottage by the sea.