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Dyce’s Head is my favorite Lighthouse for a rather odd reason. I got stranded there. My parents, and a couple (who are more like family then merely friends) and I always take road trips together. “Lighthouse hopping” we call it. We try to see at east one lighthouse no matter where we go— even if we go inland, we try to take some sort of round about route to see the coast and a lighthouse. In Maine that is rather easy— there’s more than 60 lighthouses here, and quite a few can be seen from the shore.
We had decided to take one last long trip of the year before the snow would fly. As the trip was planned, we realized there were actually a few lights on the mainland we had not yet seen (how could that be!). Castine seemed to be the place to head towards, Dyce’s Head was one of our destinations. My father wasn’t feeling well that day, so he chose to stay home. He missed one of our biggest adventures.
It was a warm day, still “shorts weather.” The trip was long, but “no one has more fun than we” as our saying goes. And it was fun. We would stop and snap photographs as the inspiration grabbed us. It was late afternoon when we reached Dyce’s Head.
The van was parked, and we each took off in our own direction, exploring the new world we had discovered, finding just the right angles, and lighting for shots of the lighthouse.
The real highlight of the trip was meeting Nancy, a real live lighthouse keeper! She sat on the porch greeting visitors, playing a vinyl of “Old Blue Eyes.” She introduced us to a student from the Maritime Academy who boarded with her, and to her (unfortunately sick) cat, and old dog named Jake.
Too soon it was time to go. We piled back into the van, after saying good-bye to Nancy and company. We reflected on the day’s adventures, things we’d seen, people we had met. It had been a good day.
Much to our dismay, the van would not start. This was occasionally a predicament we found ourselves in; the van was old— almost too old to be a “cruisin’ van.” With the ingenuity of MacGuiver, the captain of our ship was always able to fix things (sometimes with tools as unexpected as bubble gum and a jack knife). This time, however, our genius leader was not successful. What would we do? We were stranded. Castaways. How ironic, we were at a lighthouse— the very thing for centuries sailors looked towards for guidance in seemingly hopeless situations.
A bit apprehensive, we formed a bit of a plan. With the help of Nancy’s boarder, my mother and the other lady with us (“Nana”) would go to Ellsworth and rent a car. We would leave the van at the lighthouse and our fearless captain would come back for it with truck and trailer the following day. It sounded like quite a plan. Nancy offered to have us stay there at the lighthouse and try tinkering on the van in the morning, maybe even getting the local mechanic to take a look at things. What a night that would be— overnighting at a lighthouse! What a morning was being promised to us! What a decision we would have to make. Much to the disappointment of my romantic heart, we decided plan #1 was the way to go. My father would worry about my mother and me too much if we stayed over night. (He was probably already quite concerned because of the late hour.)
It was dusk when half our party took off in search of a more worthy vessel, leaving the captain and me at the lighthouse. They’d be back with the rental in several hours. So the captain & I waited.
I’ve never thought of waiting as a particularly entertaining thing to do, but I guess it depends on how you look at it— this also proves “no one has more fun than we.” The captain and I spent our long wait in the van, because the air was chilly outside and the gentle sea breeze was becoming not-so-gentle. We watched amazed as several deer crossed the road several yards in front of the van. It was a large doe, a fawn, and another not so large doe. They didn’t seem bothered by our silent watching, and meandered on their way.
I guess the waiting had finally gotten to us, and we got a little silly. (Our captain is the ultimate jokester at times, and it is all too easy to be silly right along with him. There is never a dull moment around that man.) Genius that I (now) believe he is, the captain tried the engine again. Yes, that same engine that mere moments ago would not turn over— despite a multitude of begs from its passengers. Much to my surprise (and I think the captain’s also) the engine turned over easily— as if there had never been any sort of problem at all.
We stared blankly at each other for a moment, actually wondering if the engine was running or if it was just wishful thinking that the engine was purring loudly. It was running. “Let’s go meet ‘em!” was my initial response. Won’t they be surprised!
Not knowing what to look for, other than a car with rental plates coming in our direction with two people in it was the only kink in our spur of the moment plan. But what a minor kink— or so we thought. Just keep eyes peeled, face front, and expect anything— especially the unexpected!
Surprisingly enough, we found our comrades without problem, and we returned the car to the man it was rented from, who has having a rather rough night of his own. Not only was he caused to rent out a car after hours, then woken up by the same (strange) two women mere hours later, but also his dog was having puppies. What a night for that poor man! We thanked him profusely for his patience with us, as well as his generosity, and his general good humor about the whole situation.
We made it home shortly after midnight with quite a story to tell. After all, how many people are there who get stranded at a lighthouse and have a chance to stay over night there? It almost sounds like a “big fish” story, but honestly, “strange” and “unusual” things happen to us quite often when we go on these road trips. And who’s complaining! We get to do and see things some people don’t even think of dreaming about doing. I feel we are true adventurers, real explorers. And “no one has more fun than we.”
We’ve been back to Castine once since this happened, about a year after. We wanted to see Nancy, Dyce’s Head, old Jake, and see how the poor kitty fared. What we saw there shocked us to our very core.
Several months prior the house had suffered a chimney fire. No one was harmed, but the poor old house had quite some damage on it. Our hearts ached. The last time we had been there the light was under going some repairs, and was almost finished. But now the house itself was in need of some major repair, an entirely new roof at the very least was needed.
I still wonder about Nancy, her boarders, sweet old Jake, the poor sick cat, and Dyce’s Head Light. Maybe we’ll go back again to see it completely repaired, and if Nancy, Jake, and company are there again. But there, or not, nothing could ever begin to compare to that adventure. It is still one of our favorite stories to tell. Dyce’s Head Light in Castine, Maine will always be my favorite lighthouse. Nothing could ever compare to that adventure, because— after all— “no one has more fun than we!”
This story appeared in the
December 2001 edition of Lighthouse Digest Magazine. The print edition contains more stories than our internet edition, and each story generally contains more photographs - often many more - in the print edition. For subscription information about the print edition, click here.
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