My Secret Cape Cod Secret Island

My Cape Cod Secret Island

There is a secret secluded island in a hidden cove that is deserted most of the time so you could call it sort of a deserted island. It is not the only island in the hidden cove, but it is the one with the most character and hardest to get to. But like most activities, it takes a little challenge to make it interesting.

Here is a picture of it. Can you guess where it is?

Above is a picture of the entire island.

You can't get marooned on my desert island like Robinson Crusoe who may hae been inspired by a translation of Tufail's Philsosphus Autodidactus written sometime in the 12th century A.D.

Nor is there any chance of you becoming a castaway, stranded and alone like Tom Hanks in the movie Castaway.

It's low tide at my secret island.

My secret secluded island is tiny. At its widest pont, it is only 35 feet across and it is positioned in an east to west direction. So that one gets the full blast of the sun all day while the Northern side gets slightly less. At the eastern end of my secret secluded island you will find a ring of rocks hugging the shore and one humongous boulder. It has a unique name. We call it the big boulder. It is used by the commorants as a special place to rest and dry their wings. They will extend them out facing into the wind like some airline flagman herding a huge aircraft.

To get to this secret secluded island in the hidden cove, it is necessary to either swim, paddle, or row to the island. If you have a motorboat, one must be very careful for the hidden cove has many hard concealed objects known as rocks whose object is to destroy all propellers that cross their path.

Most of the beach that circles the island is rocky except toward the opposite end from the big boulder. It is shallow there with a firm sandy bottom and at low tide one can easily cross to the mainland and the huge marsh that extends back for about a half mile of so. A tiny tidal creek runs down the side of the marsh and empties into the cove just beyond the western edge of my secluded secret island. In the middle of the island there are several gnarly cedar trees that have survived everthing that mother nature could conspire to throw at them. This included several hurricanes, terrible northeasters, and ice flows that threatened their destruction.

At one time, there was even a wrecked ship, actually a powerless powerboat. Tipped over on its starboard side on the northern shore. Several generations of kids had imagined it a pirate ship, a buccaneer , closed-hauled and bent on pillaging any vessel that dared cross its path. Sadly, a powerful hurricane blew it away. That was in 1938. But for a few summers before the Hurricane of 1938 washed our cottage away, my Mom would pack a lunch and row us out to the island for a few hours and my brother Bruce and I would have a great time playing pirates.

But to enjoy this nearly deserted island best, forget the motor and stick to old fashioned leg and arm power. It is a wonderful spot for a summer picnic or for cooling off on a hot summers day. Don't forget to bring your beach chair.

Another benefit is that there are mollusks there and about. Quahogs lurk in the bottom of the cove. Mussels, millions of them, holding fast to the marsh grass that rings the cove are easily picked and in less than one half hour, a gallon pail can be filled to the brim. For those brave souls who prefer oysters, these dot the shore too. Although in the last few years, their numbers have diminished a lot owing to nitrogen overloading from lawn fertilization and a defective sewage processing plants. The eelgrass is fast disappearing also and many aquatic creatures depend upon the eelgrass for protection and food, but that is another story.

Here are the ubiquitous Fiddler Crabs who love to make their home in the Eelgrass.

For those hardy souls who can make it across the marsh, it is easy to get to the secret island at this end by just wading across.

At the top is the tidal brook that empties into the cove.

Here is another shot of the big boulder as seen from the opposite shore in the hidden cove.

All that remains of a cottage after Hurrican Carol destroyed in in 1954. This was the third time they rebuilt. Once after 1938, then after 1944 and finally they gave up after 1954. This was before the town of Wareham required rebuilding upon piles 15 or 20 feet above the ground.

Here at some Fiddler Crabs close up.


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