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| September 17, 2020 Shelton Mason County Journal |  |
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Thursday, Sept. 17, 2020 Shelton-Mason County Journal - Page A-37
Clouds bunch above North Head Lighthouse in Cape Disappointment State Park.
Th
at the entrance to the Columbia River. Journal photo George Stenberg
on at: mu.
the continent, end of Eagl
his week’s topic is the end of
I v the world. Not the end of the
world reflected in your TV
news, nor by the marchers in your
streets, nor the mobs with their
masks at food marts, fueling sta-
tions and farmers markets.
I’m not talking about the new-
est end of the world, either, the ‘
one of forests in flames, sooty, By MARK
brown air tasting of towns turned WOYTOWICH
to ash, and turning our sun into a
pale, weakened red ball.
I’m‘ talking about the end of the physical conti-
nent, barely a two-and—a-half-hour drive along the
driftwood bays and tidal sloughs south of the scruffy,
historic logging towns of Raymond and South Bend.
Here US. Highway 101 winds down the Washington
coast to where the Columbia River meets the sea.
This iswhere you will meet two very difl'erent
versions of the end of the world. ‘ '
'CAPE CAMPING
The “cliff above the sea, lonely lighthouse feeling”
is a major draw for visitors of Cape Disappointment
State Park. Romance, destiny, a lingering nostalgia
for tall ships and sailors’ tales, plus the historic sig-
nificance of the Lewis and Clark Expedition, which,
in 1805, wintered near here — all this plays out over
2,000 oceanfront acres at this well-funded and high-
ly maintained state park.
In addition to hundreds of tent and RV camping
sites, the park has furnished, heated yurts, wooden
platform camping, both rustic and luxury cabins, va-
cation homes, as well as lodging at the North Head'
Lighthouse’s former keeper’s dwelling.
, 1
The Cape Disappointment reservation page on
the Washington State Parks website, however, lacks
good photos and concise descriptions of lodging op-
tions. You check a box but don’t really know what
you’re getting.
If possible, visit the park first, simply to get an
idea of lodging options. Take notes on the site, yurt
or cabin that catches your eye, then stop at the park
headquarters to inquire whether you can specify
your choice when making reservations.
SITTING AT THE DOCK OF THE BAY
If you’re seeking an “end of the world” experience
in the sense of finding one of those towns that time
forgot, then skip Cape Disappointment altogether.
Go back up the road a ways, turning off 101 at the
Bay Center Dike Road, to drive miles west to the
oyster shell piles, half sunk ships and generous gull
droppings of tiny, timeless Bay Center, population
250. ‘
You will find lots of trailered boats and backyard
oyster operations; nearly every adult is in the oys-
ter, crab or fishing business. There is one post office
and only one place to eat. You eat and drink at the
Dock of the Bay, a town fixture and dance/meeting
hall since before World War II, though its name has
changed.
Truly, when you walk in the Dock of "the Bay,
every eye in the place follows your movements, the
forks stop scraping their plates, the‘ice holds still in
its glass. Remember how it grew dead silent when
Clint Eastwood pushed through the doors of a hos-
tile saloon?
However, you’ll find no hostilities here. Just good,
biscuits-and-gravy type food, and wonderful, colorful
conversation from the owner, a sweet and pleasant
e lighthouse is one of two historic beacons erected to protect ships
eCreek ’
lady whose name I did not get. .
Whether you need to flee the end of the world, or
find the end of the world, you can do no better than
the Dock of the Bay in Bay Center, Washington.
EAGLE CREEK: A EULOGY
Sean McGrady has a cold. Not exactly a cold, but
a deep-chill sense of the world out there, a world
where an invisible agent has stricken down the old,
the weak and the infirm. .
Nearly 60 years old, and with his mother,
Corinne, joining him on that list of Americans “pre-
qualified” for a hard ride if hit by the COVID-19 vi-
rus train, Sean has gone from kind, inviting, gabby
good friend to a faceless voice behind a closed door.
He has morphed from social raconteur to instant
hermit, from one of Lilliwaup’s most beloved, outgo—
ing and quirky personalities to Charlton Heston in
that 1971 dystopian film, “The Omega Man,” where
the movie’s hero shelters in a bunker while the evil
and infected walk the earth.
Normally, on Thursday nights, Sean would put on
a nice coat, start his trusty Ford, and join Don and‘
Marci, Anne and a whole table of others at the Eagle
Creek Saloon, the hamburger-and-fries outpost in
Lilliwaup that has served local adult residents as a
combination trauma unit, community club and adult
day care center for many, many years.
Please, do not tell Sean the Eagle Creek is clos-
ing.
The Eagle Creek, with its mammoth hamburger
atop its entrance like an eagle’s nest atop a lowly
tree, with walls, ceiling and beams papered with $1
bills, a kitchen the size-of an Apollo space capsule,
see TRAIL, page A-38