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At dawn, the salt flats look like a sheet of ice. The air warms before the ground does, and the distant hills appear to hover above the horizon.

Closer to the trail, the salt breaks into thin plates. Water gathers in the seams and reflects the sky until the wind ripples the surface.

By midmorning, the pools have drawn back. A fine white line traces their earlier edges.

The lookout sits on a low ridge with a clear view of the inlet. Its wooden platform is just wide enough for a bench and a pair of binoculars.

From the rail, you can see the outgoing tide expose a narrow sandbar. Terns follow its edge, pausing over the shallows before they dive.

On the exposed side of the island, the wind keeps the grass short. Higher up, the footpath slips behind a stone wall before it turns toward the water.

From there the harbor opens into view, with a row of moored boats below the lighthouse and the ferry channel beyond them.

The last stretch of path ends beside the old lifeboat shed.

The harbor lights come on one at a time. The boats shift at their moorings as the last ferry passes the breakwater.

Inside the harbor, the wake reaches the steps in a series of small waves. A bell on the outer buoy rings twice, then falls quiet.