“Up on the northwest shoreline is a small converted fish house which was built by Reuben Davis after he bought his land from the heirs of Josiah Jr. He fished from this building from 1884 until his untimely death in 1909 when he fell out of his skiff while coming in from his days work. No one knows exactly what happened, but they found his skiff drifting down at Green Point, and when they found him he was about 40 feet from his fish house standing in the water with his hands straight up. Evidently he had his boots on and probably could not swim.
“In 1910 a group of men rented the building from Reuben's widow, Maria, one of them being Ralph Dunbar. In 1916 he and his wife Elizabeth “Bess” became the proud owners of this lovely summer retreat. It is my understanding that when they wanted to buy it they were told, “don't know what for, it's nothin’ but an old wik-wak,” and that's how it came to be named The Wik-Wak.” As quoted from “Monhegan Her Houses and Her People 1780-1970” by Ruth Grant Faller.
Well, we were at “Wik-Wak” too. For a life altering week of family, we gathered, relaxed, ate, slept and breathed the enchanted air of Monhegan and “Wik-Wak' cottage. As ocean waters lapped up under the front porch we had our morning coffees and afternoon naps. With creaking floorboards worn by years of dragged up traps and uninvited guests, the old fish house shared many stories, including the mysterious Rockwell Kent, whose life on the island still conjures tales quite well visited.
With gas lamps, little electric, and cherished water, we managed to unwind. Mae made it in from hot and less fragrant New York City where summer time has been far from Maine like. An endless breeze refreshed our spaces. A Christmas gift from our daughter Morgan and husband Andrei. We will be forever grateful.
The Monhegan experience is not for everyone I guess. But for us, it will be remembered and with luck, repeated.