The Washashore

Wren changed the subject to get herself out of the spotlight. “I’ve seen you looking at that lighthouse. Do you know the deal with that green light?”

“Can’t say I do,” he said, feeling relaxed, comfortable. He was eager to learn about the town through her eyes.

“So, this one’s  Long Point Light, with the green flash.” She pointed over his shoulder. “Wood End Light, just around the bend there in the West End of town, blinks red.” He looked, nodding. He was familiar. “And the final light out here in Provincetown,  Race Point Light, blinks white.”

“Now you mention it, seen that one too.”

“So, what’s neat is mariners and fishermen have always known about each light’s color from their charts, tradition, whatever. They know which color is associated with which location. At night or in bad weather, they can use the relative position of the colors to figure out exactly where they are and which way they need to steer to reach the shelter of the harbor.”

Silas was tickled by that bit of knowledge. “Huh. If only everythin’ else in life were that clear.” After a beat, he added, “Don’t suppose you’ve got a favorite one?”

“Lighthouse? Huh, good question. Never actually thought about it. Race Point is way out there, all windswept and isolated. It takes a long hike or Jeep ride over sand to reach it, which makes it special. Plus, it’s the only cylindrical one of the three, which also makes it unique. Casts gorgeous shadows across the cylinder’s curve when the sun gets low. But white light is kinda boring, right?”

Silas jerked his head back in mock surprise. “Makin’ a strong case for that one, till you pulled the rug out at the last minute.”

Wren’s eyes twinkled as she smiled. “Wood End is easy enough to walk to along the breakwater. We’re going to need to do that with Bandit sometime soon, by the way.”

We sure are.

“I like Wood End Light. I’ve gotten some good sunrise shots of it, timed perfectly so the red blink of the light blended into the reddish colors of dawn. There was coppery-colored sun reflected in the wavy old glass windows too. Very fun.”

She’s starting to take this analysis more seriously than expected. Winner’s gonna be valid.

“But I think Long Point has to be considered my favorite. It’s a familiar friend, blinking away, right here in the middle of a busy harbor. And it marks the absolute tip of the whole entire cape—‘land’s end,’ as they say around here. Plus, it reminds me of a favorite book. The green light in the book became a symbol of dreams, yearning, and hope. Gives this light some heft.”