Joshua Ferry

As a child in the late 1970s, my family visited Vinalhaven Island from our cottage in Northport. We often picnicked at Lane’s Island Preserve, where I could look across the water and see Matinicus Island on the distant horizon.

Matinicus fascinated me. It seemed impossibly far away—a small, mysterious place beyond the familiar islands I knew. I wondered what life was like there and what it would feel like to set foot on an island I had known only as a shape on the horizon.

More than forty years later, in 2021, I finally made my first trip to Matinicus. Since then, I have returned every year. I have explored its roads and trails and hiked around its perimeter several times. With each visit, the island has become less mysterious, yet somehow no less magical.

What began in childhood as a distant glimpse has become a lasting connection. Matinicus is no longer simply the island I could see from Vinalhaven. It has become a place I return to—a place that has stayed with me for more than four decades.

I discovered a place on Matinicus that became particularly meaningful to me. In the foreground, blooming beach roses give way to tangled spruce and fir rooted among jagged rocks. Beyond them, a mile of open water stretches toward Criehaven Island, resting quietly on the horizon. The scene has a wild, timeless quality that continues to draw me back.