A stretch of sand clasps Great Island to the mainland now. But, before the currents of Cape Cod Bay swept the sandbar into place Great Island truly was an island, the residue of melting glaciers.
If Cape Cod were the muscled arm of a flexing bodybuilder, Wellfleet, Massachusetts would be the forearm. Chilly Atlantic waters crash heavily on the open ocean side inevitably tugging down statuesque bluffs in the ongoing rearrangement of sand by Sea. The inner side of this forearm is Great Island.
We hiked the Great Island Trail after a weekend of celebration: a fiftieth birthday and the subsequent reunion of favorite family and friends. Great times. I had run the roads of Wellfleet the morning before and was primed to walk its adjacent shores and marshes before driving back toward Boston.
We followed the Great Island Trail through a pitch pine forest, by salt marshes and along sandy shores adorned with flowing sea grasses. Color was nuanced across a spectrum of gold, brown and russet red, pierced by the brilliant blues of sky and sea.
And as we wandered through its desolate beauty and tranquil seclusion, Great Island still felt every bit the island it once was.
More album photos: Heather Dugan Creative on Facebook
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