Matinicus Island, population about 50, sits in the ocean off our coast at latitude 43.862 north, longitude 68.894 west, some 13 nautical miles from the mainland (40 miles south of Castine). It’s in the Eastern Daylight Saving time zone, but you can say it’s in its own zone.

To get here you need to arrange for a boat to take you because the ferry runs only once every so often from Rockland (23 miles – crossing time 2 hours, 15 minutes). The next ones are Aug. 4, 18, 20, 31, Sept. 2, 15, and 20.

About five miles south (farther out to sea) of Matinicus Island sits Matinicus Rock, a 32-acre pile of ledge about 40 feet tall at its highest, the most distant island from our mainland. It’s likely best known as the setting for Peter and Connie Roop’s book “Keep the Lights Burning Abby,” a true tale of Abbie Burgess Grant (1839-1892). As a young girl in January 1856, she tended the light after one of the worst storms of the 19th century battered the two lighthouse towers and keeper’s buildings for a month. Her father had gone to Matinicus Island for supplies just before the storm hit and could not make it back. (You can read about Burgess’ life at http://lighthouse.cc/matinicusrock/history.html.)

Over the years since 1827 when President John Quincy Adams authorized the building of two lighthouses here, this remote outpost has been damaged by the sea and rebuilt several times.

Today the light still shines and its foghorn sounds at 15-second intervals as an active U.S. Coast Guard aid to navigation. The facility is owned by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service.

It’s desolate and isolated, certainly not the most hospitable place on earth, and you might ask why anyone would venture out here, let alone paddle out to it in a kayak.

I found myself asking the same question Tuesday around 6:30 a.m. as I piled my paddling gear on the dock in Castine and shook hands with Jeff Siegel, software designer, paddler, Castine resident, and owner of “aCapella,” a 62-foot DeFever-design cruising trawler that has served as his winter residence in southern waters. Seigel and his wife Karen and yellow Labrador Tucker were all grins as we readied the boat for the trip to Matinicus Island.

That included solving the puzzle of hoisting six sea kayaks to the second deck and tucking them in and securing them into place next to the rigid-hull inflatable dinghy up there.

Paddling around Matinicus Rock was Seigel’s idea – a challenge, an adventure, something not many others get to do. He invited five of us to join him in the undertaking. Mark Jadkowski of Hampden is a vice president of Maptech, the mapping company that uses Seigel’s software adaptation to put maps and charts at your fingertips in handheld computers or PDAs.

Two of Seigel’s avid paddling friends, Doug Endicott of Penobscot and Gerald Doane of Orrington, signed on for the adventure. The sixth member of our expedition was Karen Francoeur, owner of Castine Kayak Adventures. Mark’s wife, Carla, and Karen Seigel would stay aboard “aCapella” and be available to assist in our rescue should anything go awry.

Up until Tuesday, fog had been a constant companion on Penobscot Bay (and most of the rest of the coast) this summer. Our outing had been delayed twice already. Tuesday looked like a viable window and the word went out via e-mail that the trip was a go. Light winds were from the northwest and the fog had taken a vacation.

The “aCapella’s” twin John Deere 225 hp diesels purred to life and we slipped quietly out of Castine Harbor and headed south. Seigel punched up mapping programs and instruments and we watched on various screens our progress down the bay. Most amazing is the ability to see on a hand-held PDA screen just what you see on the expensive navigation systems typically found on a yacht.

As we passed Vinalhaven our binoculars were trained on the horizon, watching for the inevitable fog bank. The farther we went, the more amazed we were the visibility was holding up – 10 miles and more!

Shortly after noon we lowered the anchor on the south side of Matinicus Island and lowered kayaks into the chilly water. One by one we outfitted our boats from the stern swim platform and hopped gingerly aboard. Rounding the northeast tip of Criehaven, we got our first view of Matinicus Rock from our water-level seats. It was comforting to be able to see it, even though it seemed pretty small on the horizon.

Three- to four-foot sea swells rolled gently under us as we paddled along on an oily-smooth surface. About halfway on our five-mile outward trip, a puffin flew around us prompting a salute from our gaggle of paddlers to a successful day. We’d seen storm petrels by the dozen on the way out from the “aCapella,” now a puffin made the day.

Our joy was multiplied shortly afterward when a pair of puffins circled us twice and flew off. Now, we thought, the day was a real success. Porpoise, puffins, seals, petrels – what more could you ask for?

How about a thousand more puffins? As we got closer to the island, we began to hear life from the seemingly barren island. Then there were rafts of puffins dotting the waters. As we approached we stopped paddling and drifted to a stop. They approached us until we were sitting in the midst of them, no more than a paddle length away. This was heaven. The birds actually approached us as if to extend a welcome.

A sign on the boathouse on shore warned that no one was to land on the island between May and August because the island is maintained as a bird sanctuary. (The island is owned by the U.S. Coast Guard and managed by the National Audubon Society that reintroduced puffins to the island.)

I could have used a stretch, but it wasn’t going to happen. Besides, the tide was low and it didn’t look like there was a single place I could have landed a kayak without getting wet or tossed about.

Absent a good landing spot, I decided I’d paddle around the small island. After all, why come this far, and not take in all the sights?

Turns out it was a great decision. Francoeur and Doane joined me.

The northeast corner was seal heaven. Seals to the left. Seals to the right. Seals ahead. Seals behind. Seals underneath. These seals were curious yet timid. They’d look you in the eye from about 25 or 30 feet away then suddenly flip their tails noisily and dive under water, very much like a beaver.

The southern side of the island is all rock. Everywhere there were hundreds of puffins, murres, and razorbills busily taking to the air on their fishing trips, darkening the sky above us. Puffins returning from the sea had tiny fish draped from their mouths. Common terns darted among the feathered cloud of their larger neighbors.

Each species staked out its own section of the rock. A small flock of black-backed gulls inhabited the southwesterly side of the island. The largest of the gull family, these critters prey on chicks and eggs of other birds.

Our circumnavigation complete, it was time to head back. Reluctantly we set course for Matinicus and our mother ship. We said goodbye to the puffins still floating about the northern end of the island and paddled on pretty much in silence until a pilot whale interrupted our reverie. At first I wasn’t sure I saw what I did. “A whale!” I shouted. “Naw,” my companions said, it was a porpoise.

But several minutes later the brown form rolled again showing more than 10 feet of its back and everyone saw it at the same time less than 100 yards off our bows.

As far as I was concerned that was icing on the cake. There won’t be another day like this one, to be sure.

We managed to reboard “aCapella” without capsizing, emptied the kayaks, hoisted them to the roof again, raised the anchor, and set course north for Castine. It was around 6 p.m. and we had four hours of cruising to go before docking again.

It was time to break out the snacks we’d all brought, share some experiences of the day, and dwell in the afterglow of a fine day of paddling and exploration. The overcast skies held off dispensing precipitation, the seas remained cooperative, and the wildlife was entertaining.

Darkness had long since settled over Castine Harbor when Seigel eased his trawler up to the town dock. Once more we lowered the kayaks and removed our gear from the “aCapella.” A long day was nearly over, but it would resonate in all our minds for years to come. I know it’s indelibly etched in my mind.

A quick reminder for local paddlers looking for a discount on demonstration kayaks: Brad Ryder, owner of Epic Sports in Bangor, called the other day to remind me he’ll be selling his demo fleet on Aug. 7 at 9 a.m. For those of you who have been asking me about deals on boats, you might give the store a call at 941-5670 and see if anything in this fleet suits your needs.

Jeff Strout can be reached at 990-8202 or by e-mail at jstrout@bangordailynews.net.