Damon Point juts into the convergence of estuary and ocean like a crooked finger, accumulating massive bleached logs that the winter swells toss into skeletal piles. You walk on sand rippled hard by tides, past clumps of salt-tolerant grasses that shiver in the constant marine wind. The Protection Island snowy plover nests here in roped-off sections—one of the few remaining coastal breeding sites—and during spring migration, the mudflats teem with thousands of Arctic-bound shorebirds probing for invertebrates.
“One of the last mainland nesting sites for the threatened western snowy plover, making portions seasonally closed for protection.”
Credit: FlickrSand Stone
The beach curves in a gentle crescent, backed by low dunes and the brown ribbon of Oyhut Bay. Across the harbor mouth, the twin jetties of Westport frame the horizon. You won't find beach umbrellas or volleyball nets; this is functional coastline where commercial fishing boats navigate the channel and storm petrels skim the chop. Beachcombers come for Japanese glass floats after winter storms and crabbers work the bay-side shallows with collapsible traps.
Gray whales pass offshore during their spring migration, close enough that you can sometimes spot their blows from shore. The light here shifts fast—fog burns off by noon, then rolls back in by late afternoon, wrapping everything in wet gauze. Bring binoculars, a windbreaker that actually blocks wind, and patience. The beach rewards those who come to watch rather than to lounge.
