Cape Flattery

Author's Comments

The drive alone tells you something. Hours past Forks, then further still, until the road runs out at Neah Bay and you are reminded that the continent has an actual edge. The boardwalk through the cedars is short and easy and gives almost nothing away. Then the trees open and you are standing at the corner of the country. I came in late September, mid afternoon, with the kind of overcast that flattens some places and deepens others. Cape Flattery is the second kind. The sea caves below the platforms are enormous and the water moves through them with a sound that does not photograph but stays with you. Tatoosh Island sits offshore with its lighthouse, and the channel between is alive in a way that rewards a long lens and a longer wait. I watched a gray whale surface three times in twenty minutes. The puffins are smaller than you expect. The light I keep returning for is the late afternoon kind, when the sun drops west of the islets and the sea goes silver behind their silhouettes. The cliffs themselves stay in shadow most of the day, which is part of what makes the offshore rocks read so strongly. Wide for the scale. Longer for the lighthouse and the birds. Detail for the cedar boardwalk and the way the moss holds the rain. Bring the Makah pass. Bring time. This is not a place to photograph quickly. The platforms are small and the wind comes up without warning and the best frames tend to arrive in the last hour, when most visitors have already started back toward the car.

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