WESTPORT -- A strong southwest wind is howling along the beach at Westhaven State Park, pestering a sparse collection of beachcombers with blasts of sand and spray. The beach is a seemingly endless, arrow-straight strip of beige that separates the green of the shore pines from the gray of the Pacific.
The sea is a gnashing, pitching mass of lead-colored surf. Endless sets of outsized waves break far offshore, adding bass-heavy thunderclaps that harmonize with the shrieking wind. You must shout to be heard.
By Nick Horton | June 30, 2005
WESTPORT -- Two weeks ago I wandered under the skeleton of a gray whale called Rosie hanging unceremoniously from a warehouse ceiling in Coupeville. Interesting, I thought, but not very hands on.
It occurred to me -- since I'm a photographer -- that it might be neat to try to photograph the animal from the outside in so to speak ... an actual living, functioning gray whale in the wild, barnacles and all.
By Jeff Larsen | April 11, 2002
GRAYLAND, Grays Harbor County It is the same today, in so many ways, as it has been for decades, this strip of Washington coastline from Westport to Tokeland.
Flat, sand-covered, patched with spiky grasses. Nearly all the trees bend inland, stripped of growth on their seaward side either testament to the power of the wind, steady and relentless as it blows in from the sea, or silent signposts: "I will bend; I will not break."
By Terry Tazioli | September 23, 2001
WESTPORT - To some people, a perfect oceanfront getaway is a bustling seaside village of souvenir shops, art galleries, nautical-theme pubs and an array of restaurants. Maybe that's why you don't see a lot of those people at this Washington coastal village this time of year.
In fact, some days you don't see many people at all. But that didn't bother Ballard's Peggy Mitchell, who stopped by with a friend recently.
"It's a quiet, little town and I love the sound of the ocean," said Mitchell.
By Jack Broom | March 4, 2001
WESTPORT -- Once this town billed itself as "the salmon capital of the world" and every summer morning by 5 the docks were buzzing with eager anglers carrying rods, reels, rain gear, sack lunches and cameras.
On the sterns of the charter boats that jammed the Westport Marina -- 250 at the peak in 1979 -- groups of anglers drank coffee, smoked cigarettes, joked and set wagers on the first, the biggest and the most salmon.
In the pre-dawn darkness, as skippers warmed up engines and deckhands rigged rods and cut bait, the air was filled with diesel fumes, the smell of herring and fishing talk
By Greg Johnston | August 26, 1999
