My 400th Post... end of the world or beginning?

On Highway 112 from Joyce to Clallam Bay, on a clear day
it is easy to see British Columbia across the Straits of Juan
de Fuca (entrance to Puget Sound).

How fitting that my 400th post is about the world's end because this is not an 'end of the world' story.

This is a story about getting to the farthest, westernmost portion of the United States which is actually called 'the beginning of the world' by the Makah tribe.

On the weekend of June 4, I drove with a friend up to Neah Bay, WA, to see the island that represents the final headland of the U.S. for mariners heading west, land that is still under the care of the original settlers, the Makah.

This view from Highway 112 looks westward toward Clallam
Bay and also Neah Bay, reserved lands of the Makah tribe.

With a history that easily goes back at least 3,000 years, this is a not-to-be-missed journey.

Beyond Pillar Point you can see Vancouver Island, B.C.

It's just that last summer I didn't get up here although I'd heard about it.

The drive to Neah Bay from Port Angeles will take about and hour and 45 minutes. Stopping for photographs or just to see the views will add to the time.

The most scenic route is to take Highway 112 and veer off before Joyce on a winding route with several scenic pull-offs. (At present this route is also under repair from several landslides last winter, so motorcyclists should be prepared for gravel in the road in several spots.) 

This information board at the vista describes the various whales to be seen.

We brought our own lunches but there are a couple of places in Neah Bay to get supplies and the required Reservation Pass. Although a pass is 'suggested,' the fine for not having one is significantly more than the $10 required.  

My friend, Rose, leads the way.

Cape Flattery and Tatoosh Island are six miles north of Neah Bay and it promised to be a great photography day since the summer heat had arrived with clear skies.

The cape was named by Capt. James Cook when he was here heading north to Alaska.

He didn't actually stop that day in 1778, it appears, because of the fog, but the claim is that he he was 'flattered' to think there might be a harbor and thus named it Cape Flattery.

That doesn't make sense to me with all my maritime explorations, but it doesn't matter because that is what it is called now. However, if that is the reason he called the 'harbor' he was expecting was truly named that, it is false flattery as it is certainly not a safe one as you will see from the photos.

A bicyclist, Brian from Camano Island, rode on the planks
to this viewpoint. He said he had been training for this ride
for some time. We saw him again later in the day near Forks.

Ten years after Cook's visit, Englishman John Mears found out about Tatoosh Island and named it after the local Makah chief.

This was my first view of the Pacific. Tattoosh Island is
further down the path and a little to the right.

The Makah have been fishing and whaling and managing to continue living on their tribal lands for centuries, although the reservation was established in 1855. Now a 27,000 acre site, there is evidence that an earthquake and landslide in the Ozette area created a tsunami that traveled to Japan (read this report) in about 10 hours on Jan. 26, 1700.

The ancient fishing village of Ozette had been operational for about 2,000 years before the landslide and the Makah's museum in Neah Bay is a world class presentation of the on-going archeological efforts to discover and preserve information and artifacts from that era.

The trail starts out with a broad path and quickly narrows down. Walking on planks and rounds of wood, single file for about a mile, the sound of birds and crashing surf are dominant. It is lush forest with layers and layers of needles which help to moderate all sounds, including that of tourists who were less reverential than we were.

And the vistas, when they are reached, are well worth the effort.

The brilliant Pacific Ocean crashes up on the rocks and cliffs while cormorants and gulls dive for food and sun themselves on craggy ledges.

There are spots where gutsy photographers have gotten really close to the 100-ft drop to get a better shot. I am exceedingly nervous near those locations... anxious for myself as well as for others. But the urge to have a clear shot without any tree limbs does drive one closer. 

It's just that taking 'selfies' too close to the edge could have an unexpected ending to a fun trip.

Tattoosh Island, the last bit of the United States, seems very
small for a lighthouse keeper and family, and a pretty rough
approach from any direction with strong tidal activity.

A closer shot of the lighthouse....

Closer still...

Where does one dare to make an approach to this craggy shore?

This location is on the National Register of Historic Places so if you are keeping track of all those visited, you'll probably want to have someone take your picture with the island in the background. The viewing platform is up a short ladder and has 360-degree views, safely behind a log railing.

The wind blows hard off the Pacific so even on the sunniest of days you may want to have a windbreaker or light jacket by the time you reach this end, or beginning, of the world.

There is some elevation downward to the walk (thus a slight climb up on the return) and it is not handicapped accessible so it is not a walk for anyone without stamina.

But I will do it again and try to arrive nearer sunset instead of high noon for a different angle for my photos.

Hobuck Resort and Beach is an exotic name for a nice place
that offers camping sites and bathrooms for a reasonable fee.

Our stop on the way back was at a lovely beach just before you return to Neah Bay.

We had our lunch there, walked on the sand, got some warm sun and got back to Port Angeles in time for the last contra dance of the season.

Someone said you can get rich at this beach... there are
gold dollars everywhere... there are... sand dollars!

A Fascination with Japan

One year later, after the devastating earthquake and tsunami, Japan proves its capabilities in rebuilding, at least on the construction level. I cannot imagine the horrific loss of family members and friends from such an event. Over this past year periodically I have watched videos and listened to audios of the disaster, as it was too much to do earlier. And now, a year later, rubble and reminders are washing up on the western shores of the U.S. (Ghost ship drifts toward Canada)

I think my fascination with Japan has its roots in my relationship with my grandmother who had a flair for exotic fabrics and clothes which she draped around her or which she had made into interesting things to wear. As a child I was allowed to go into her attic and walk over the creaky boards to the far corner where she had a huge wooden and metal trunk, the kind you see in old movies that people used for shipping their goods to foriegn lands.

When I opened it, the smells of oldness and adventure would rush up to my nose and I would lift up the ancient silk kimono carefully, just as my grandmother would appear behind me to caution me to do just that. I both dreaded her appearance and welcomed it because there were always stories about how these items came into her trunk, but partly I dreaded her invasion of my imagination.

There were tiny little silk cloth slippers with delicate flowers and leaves embroidered on them having a place for a big toe separated from the rest of the foot which was a matter of great curiosity to me. My feet were already too large to try them on, but I delighted in hearing from my grandmother how the ladies walked in little mincing steps on wooden platforms with their silk kimonos tightly wound around their petite frames.

My grandmother Elsa was not one to 'play' with her grandchildren. Instead she would offer up tales of her travels and punctuate these revelations with her unassailable philosophy that war of any kind was both horrible and unnecessary. After her beloved husband, Alain, was killed in World War I in a car accident in France, she worked as a nurse over there for some time before returning home to their four children.

Her diaries show her personal objective to strive toward world peace, as do her poems and essays. And she did travel many times around the world to seek audiences with various world leaders, including a trip to Japan. Her stories were always replete with descriptions of the regalia of the local country she was visiting, so it was like having Rudyard Kipling at my beck and call.

It is distressing to think of Japan as being "off-limits" because of the radiation or more serious disasters like the one a year ago. It is one of my goals to go to visit that country, providing all aspects are supported - my health, my wealth, and the condition of Japan's environment. Intending the peoples of Japan continue to heal from their trials and this one-year noting brings encouragement to all the world.

16 minutes

On March 11, from the time the earthquake struck (2:46 p.m.) until the tsunami raced at 800 kilometers per hour to hit the land  at 3:02 p.m., the Japanese people living near the coast had 16 minutes to act. The quake itself lasted several minutes, so right after it was over, the people on the water’s edge had to decide if there was a risk of a tsunami or not and if yes, get to higher ground. For the elderly, it was already an impossible task. Many people over 70 cannot walk quickly and in this case, they would have had to run quite a long distance from their coastal homes to someplace higher.


I had no idea it happened so quickly.

It takes 16 minutes for me to walk to the center of the little mountain town where I live. That’s also the length of time I need to take a shower, dry my hair and get dressed. If I had been living in one of those Japanese coastal towns, I probably would have held on for dear life when the earthquake struck and when it was over, if things were not in ruins around me, I might have stepped outside to see what was going on with the neighbors. I probably would have asked them if their power was out, since mine undoubtably was. Would I have thought I needed to evacuate? Not unless I had been trained that any quake over 6 was a potential tsunami event, but just two days before there had been one at 7.2 and there was no tsunami warning. And if the power was out, it is unlikely there would have been a radio or TV to give any notice. Even if I could have gotten to my car in time, most of the towns appear to have had at least a 10 minute drive to something higher. I would have perished, as so many did.


If there is a lesson here for me, it is that first of all, I will take earthquakes more seriously now, and more especially if I am somewhere close to an ocean. Secondly, I will continue to stay in good shape so if I have to move quickly in an emergency, I can do so.


Looking at the various YouTube videos and news reports, it is clear that even the reporters were unaware of how powerful and how rapidly the tsunami struck with the first wave - estimated to be at least 23 feet in height- only 16 minutes after the huge quake. An hour and 30 minutes afterwards the news reporter was saying, "You need to evacuate to higher ground now..."and "this situation is very fluid, changing minute by minute," a rather poor choice of words over the video of Sendai airport being inundated.

Horrible.

Tragic.

Devastating.

The Global Community

Spring flowers in Arizona

Anyone who has faced the doctor with the dreaded announcement, "You have cancer," knows how life changes in an instant. 

And when on a walk a few days ago there was discussion about the earthquake in Japan, my first thought was, "Well, it doesn't really affect me."

If you think because the disaster in Japan is too far away to affect you, think again. Perhaps like me, you don't realize how big the Japanese influence is in your life - from Sony TVs to Honda cars to cellphones. And this has all been impacted. What if your Honda needs a part? There are NO shipments leaving Japan now or for the foreseeable future. Businesses will not be operational for months and some will cease to exist, either because of the infrastructure, the contamination, or the loss of leadership/ownership.

But that is a small part of this huge event. Potentially even worse is the news that one or more nuclear reactors may be in various stages of meltdown. A nuclear disaster on top of two others - unimaginable. A quote from GreenPeace included this information about the use of Cesium-137 at the Fukushima plant: “Cesium-137 poses a significant health risk to anyone exposed. Cesium-137 has been one of the isotopes causing the greatest health impacts following the Chernobyl disaster, because it can remain in the environment and food chain for 300 years.”

Those who enjoy tuna fish, squid, and various other Japanese ingredients for sushi or mushrooms for eating can kiss all that goodbye if they are unable to stop the meltdown.

As a former Emergency Management council member for the Veteran’s Administration and the editor of their extensive documents on crises and ‘management’ of them, I can assure you it is an enormous challenge to deal with an earthquake of nearly 9.0. When a tsunami with waves exceeding 23 feet followed the quake, the first event was nearly dwarfed by the second. Now there is the crisis of nuclear explosions and the resulting radiation exposure.

There are hundreds of thousands of people begging for assistance, people who need to be evacuated from the reactor threat, and people who are having to continue to work at their jobs when their focus might be on a lost loved one. It is an Herculean task and they need help, but they are a proud people and there are political risks in accepting aid.

Japan will rise again, but it will be years. The mortality of those who have been injured will increase, not to mention those who were washed away by the tsunami. And even the Japanese government admits they are unsure of how many people have already been exposed to the radiation, or how many may eventually become exposed. Then there is the horrible psychological aspect of living in such a disastrous set of circumstances.

I worked with the Red Cross right after the Katrina hurricane in the Louisiana area, so I can assure you that the emotional impact of losing everything - which may include family and friends, a job, purpose - is a greater devastation than the immediate surroundings, but when the daily life is completely upended without even a way to tell which way to go, it takes a terrible toll. It was tough on the rescue workers, but even harder on those who were without water, food, clothing, warmth and a place to call home.

As I recently posted, I returned to my home in Florida to find it completely emptied due to the betrayal of a friend. This was a difficult situation to come to terms with, but I am grateful I didn’t experience what the Japanese are going through now. I remember only too well what Hurricane Katrina did and although the storm surge there was similar to a tsunami, the daily shaking by after-shocks was not a part of the equation in Louisiana. 

When you cannot identify the street you lived on, when your house has been obliterated, when everything that you worked for is gone, especially the precious memories of children growing up, when the silly things you accumulated and surrounded yourself with are washed away and you have only the clothes on your back, you grieve in a stunned state. You don’t even realize the depth of the loss immediately; you only know what made you feel your place in the world, your touchstone of identity, is missing.

I was there, trying to help feed and cloth and comfort people of all ages. And they would look at me as if to say, “You have no idea what I am going through.” And I didn’t - not at their level of anguish having survived a catastrophe. I was just a worker, a helper, who came in afterwards.

Why am I expressing this? Because we really are a global community, and we cannot ignore the fact that when our neighbors in Japan are struggling to deal with an awful calamity, we are going to be affected. Not just because we might not be able to get the parts for a car, or ink for printers, or new cellphones or some other product, but because the loss of that part of the world’s participation in our world will have consequences - not known yet - but in time we will see it and feel it.

And I offer up these words of consolation to my unknown Japanese friends - I am so, so sorry for your losses. I have been a witness to others who have suffered greatly and I know you have many, many months of recovery ahead of you. I cannot come to you to help, but I will be offering up my intentions and prayers on your behalf, and will do what I can in other ways to ease your pain.

Unfortunately the other disturbing aspect of the events of March 11 is that it is unclear just what can be done from such a great distance and I have had the distinctly unpleasant experience in the past of watching various scams unfolding in the name of “assistance.” The one group I am certain can provide effective aid is the Church of Latter Day Saints and while I am not a member, I know their reputation for delivery. Perhaps there is a church near you which you can contact for more information. Or possibly you have your own connection with a trustworthy group that is providing help. 


Or if your life circumstances don't allow you the resources to do more than pray or intend for the victims, the rescuers, those who are trying to solve the problems, then please do that. I’m just sayin’... we have to find ways to reach out to this suffering community.