Life on the Edge of the World: A Dispatch from Tatoosh Island

I propose to say something about Tatooche Island itself and its inhabitants, both keepers and Indians. The island is a group of conglomerate boulders, presenting the appearance of coarse beach gravel, hardened into a rock-like mass. The action of the waves has worn deep, arched caverns through the island. During heavy winter gales, the Pacific waves are sufficient to throw spray not only above the 90-foot cliffs but over the light tower itself, covering the lantern glass in salt. The keepers live in near-total isolation, often damp and cold, waiting three months at a time for supplies from Port Townsend. They pass the time spinning exaggerated yarns—Captain Harris, known as 'Uncle George,' claims to have once offered a pint of beans to an Admiral of the Fleet. The Makah Indians visit the island seasonally for halibut and whale hunting. I witnessed the communal process of harvesting a whale carcass, a process of incredible industry that involves the entire tribe in a feast of blubber and oil. Despite his exposure to white civilization, even those like Peter—who worked in town—revert to the traditional life and appetite when among his kin.