Of the many geographic features for which Cape Cod is known, one of the most distinctive, best known, and aptly named is Sandy Neck. The Great Marshes, contained within the eastward reach of Sandy Neck also hold a high rank, but for this column the Neck itself is in focus. In last week’s paper was an announcement of a guided walk on Sandy Neck, and this, coupled with my recent digital scanning and improvement of some old photos I took therein 1967, stimulated memories of a certain unguided walk that I took in that wonderful place.
In my early years I had the good fortune to spend many pleasant summer days at Sandy Neck, since my parents operated an antique shop on Rt. 6A nearby from1957 to 1961. A walk down Sandy Neck Road could lead to many interesting experiences, ranging from a visit to Charlie Hilliard’s dairy farm, or chatting with the elderly gatekeeper Mr. Dickie, to simply ranging up and down the beach or around in the dunes. I don’t have a sense that there was much regulation at that time - no rangers, marked trails, or signs to speak of. On a good day the beach near the parking area was usually well filled with people. The parking area, with its water fountain, great little snack bar and other facilities was a kind of treeless oasis in the desert. At the age of eight or ten I often spent much of the day at Sandy Neck by myself, wandering freely in peace and safety.
Part of the mystery of Sandy Neck was its length, and consequent inaccessibility to most people. There was a village down at the end, I knew that, and beach buggies - usually old Jeeps, were a common sight heading out that way. Sandy Neck Village could be easily seen from the Barnstable Village area, and it looked very attractive in an old fashioned way, as it still does. I saw it as a future destination, but it seemed remote. In fact, it was over five miles east of the parking area, and the extra effort of walking in the soft white sand would probably make it seem like ten. The other problem is that once there I’d have to walk back. In spite of these obstacles I kept thinking about an expedition to the end of Sandy Neck someday.
That day seemed to come on a warm, rather hazy mid-July day in 1967. By then I had acquired a topographic map of the area, and my first good modern camera, a 35mm Ansco in a leather case. With all the enthusiasm of an expedition leader I boldly thought I’d take an entire day and walk out to the end, photographing as I went. I felt I could do it.
Perhaps I could have done it, but let’s just say I got distracted along the way. On that walk I rediscovered some of the interesting features I had seen in previous years: Indian shell heaps, relics from former military use as a target area; the rusted skeleton of a Model A Ford, half-buried in the sand. There were bits of buried forest, small fresh water ponds, the endless swirl of wind-sculpted dunes, sometimes covered with waving beach grass, and sometime stopped with impenetrable thickets of bayberry and poison ivy.
On this walk I chose to proceed down the middle of the upland, and though I only made it about a third of the way down, I did achieve an important secondary goal - scaling the highest dune on Sandy Neck. The topographic map indicated only one named dune - White Hill, about a half-mile east of the parking area, at 70 feet above sea level. Though my map was issued in 1950 and the dunes are always changing, White Hill was still there, and it gave me an excellent uninhibited view down the neck, as well as the broad blue bay to the left and the vast soft green expanse of marsh to the right. Far ahead on the horizon lay my Everest, an unnamed 84 foot peak that was vegetated, not white.
I don’t think I brought much more than the camera with me on this trip, being an invincible teenager and all, but the importance of a few supplies for a long walk became clearer to me as time went on, and the sandy trudge, novel at first, became tiring. Most hikers would probably stick mainly with the beach or marsh edges, where there is enough moisture to firm up the sand.
It was fun to reach and climb the 84-footer, look around and note with satisfaction that no dune was nearly as high. The only letdown was that the vegetation was so dense on the top that there was no truly user-friendly spot to comfortably rest, so I didn’t stay too long. I did take a photograph looking back towards Sandwich and White Hill, about a mile away.
There is evidence that this hill may have once been named. On the U.S. Coastal Survey of this area done in 1860-61, the small marsh creek nearest the hill is called White Hill Creek. This led me to wonder if the White Hill I visited was miss-labeled on the newer map, a mile west of this creek. Then, in reading the remarkable diary kept by South Sandwich farmer Benjamin Percival from 1777 to 1817, I found many references to the sections of salt marsh that he and his neighbors cut near Sandy Neck, which had names which can be found on the 1860 Coastal Survey and other maps. One of the frequently mentioned pieces is “the Great Hill”, which could refer to the marsh closest to the 84-footer if it existed then, but who knows. Percival refers to the names of the marsh parcels often, but doesn’t mention the name Sandy Neck at all. He may have called it Great Neck, in one passage.
Someone of these days I will take this walk again, and see if I can find the ModelA, the big hill, and other features. Sandy Neck is so heavily used that regulations, rangers and signs are much needed, but it is satisfying to note that the simple act of walking in the dunes is unregulated, still a suitable activity for free spirits.
Photos:
1. A view of Sandy Neck in the summer of 1967,looking east from White Hill. Thehighest bump on this horizon is the hill the author visited and believed to bethe highest point on Sandy Neck. John Cullity
2. Presumably somefamily with a last name starting with S once sat around this fireplace, in 1967a ruin on the marsh side of Sandy Neck. John Cullity
Barnstable Harbor's working waterfront encompasses commercial fishing including charter boat fishing, shellfish aquaculture and the harvest of wild shellfish, wildlife viewing tours including whale watching, marinas with associated infrastructure, and marine repair.
Long before European settlement, the Wampanoag ("People of the First Light") used Sandy Neck as a seasonal coastal resource, utilizing its rich tidal waters, dunes, and marshes for fishing, digging shellfish, and gathering native plants. Archaeological sites on the barrier spit preserve this deep indigenous history.
Areas of Critical Environmental Concern (ACECs) are places such as Sandy Neck/Barnstable Harbor that receive special recognition because of the quality, uniqueness and significance of their natural and cultural resources.
The Sandy Neck Beach Long-Term Coastal Resiliency Project represents the culmination of nearly a decade of planning, scientific analysis, design, permitting, and community engagement.
Sandy Neck Light, also known as Beach Point Light or Barnstable Light, is one of the pre-eminent historical landmarks of Barnstable Harbor. It is a favorite subject of local artists and images of the tower and the keeper’s dwelling grace the walls of many houses and public buildings around our town. It has also found its way onto t-shirts and mugs and other tchotchkes.
The Cape Cod Water Quality Data Portal is a map-based viewer that allows users to explore freshwater and marine water quality data compiled by the Cape Cod Commission for our regional partners. Data and trends can be viewed by monitoring site, pond, or embayment.
The Cape Cod Coastal Planner is a communication and decision support tool intended to educate users on the climate change hazards impacting Cape Cod's coastline, the adaptation strategies available to address them, and implications for local infrastructure and ecosystems. Choose your location and zone of impact to begin planning. View planning layers and test adaptation strategies for three coastal hazards.
The Cape Cod Commission’s Chronology Viewer allows users to understand past land use and observe how the region has changed over time.
Commercial shellfishing has been a defining part of Barnstable Harbor's history, economy, and maritime culture for generations. The harbor's extensive tidal flats and nutrient-rich waters create ideal conditions for shellfish such as quahogs (hard clams), soft-shell clams, oysters, and blue mussels.
Sandy Neck Light is a lighthouse on Sandy Neck, in Barnstable, Massachusetts, at the entrance to Barnstable Harbor. It was first established in 1826. The current tower was built in 1857 and strengthened in the 1880s. It was discontinued in 1931, replaced by a skeleton tower, which was discontinued in 1952.
Barnstable Harbor’s working waterfront has evolved from a hub of fishing, trade, and industry to a quieter but enduring maritime community, where a handful of fishermen and families continue traditions that have shaped the harbor for generations.
The “clam factory” at Bass Hole reflects centuries of coastal use—from Indigenous shellfishing and colonial shipbuilding to modern aquaculture—where today’s operations continue a long tradition of harvesting and cultivating the harbor’s natural abundance.
Jim ‘Butch’ Ellis is best known as our village blacksmith, but he is also a seasoned fisherman with years of experience working in and out of Barnstable harbor.
Ned Handy’s lifelong devotion to Barnstable Harbor—from clamming and fishing in his youth to sailing, birdwatching, and leading family adventures—defined both his way of life and the enduring legacy he passed down through generations.
George Warren was a singular presence in Barnstable—an unconventional artist, mentor, and pioneering saltwater fly angler whose influence lives on through his art, his teachings, and the traditions he passed down on the waters of Barnstable Harbor.
“Braley’s,” the sweeping dunes along Sandy Neck, preserves the legacy of Braley Jenkins, a 19th-century farmer whose successful cranberry cultivation helped shape Barnstable Harbor’s history and introduced Cape Cod cranberries to a wider world.
Scudder’s Wharf grew from a modest 1820s sail repair shop into a vital hub of maritime life in Barnstable Harbor, supporting generations of sea captains, fishermen, and trade as the village evolved from sail to steam.
Bunny Howard was a defining figure in Barnstable Harbor’s sailing culture—an accomplished sailor, boatbuilder, and teacher whose lifelong dedication to wooden boats and Beetle Cats shaped generations on the water.
David Loring Crocker, a lifelong resident of Mill Way, reflected a deep connection to Barnstable’s past, preserving the history and proper naming of the road that once led to Blish’s tidewater grist mill.
