Cape Disappointment State Park

Two lighthouses stand guard on the cape, and together they tell you how hard this coast is to sail. The Cape Disappointment Lighthouse, first lit in 1856, is the oldest still working lighthouse on the Pacific Coast. Its supplies very nearly never arrived: the ship carrying the building materials wrecked on the bar right below the cape in 1853, and the crew barely made it ashore. When the tower was finally built, its top was too narrow to hold the enormous Fresnel lens, so workers had to take the upper section apart and rebuild it brick by brick.

The lighthouse wears a single black band around its white tower, added around 1930 so sailors would not confuse it with the second light up the shore. That second light is North Head Lighthouse, built in 1898 on a high bluff two miles to the north. Ships coming down from the north could not see the Cape Disappointment light hidden behind the headland, and too many of them wrecked, so the government built North Head to cover the blind spot.

North Head stands in one of the windiest places in the country, where gusts have been clocked well past a hundred miles an hour. You can tour it and climb the tower in the warmer months, and the restored keepers' houses beside it are now vacation rentals. The Cape Disappointment light is a walk-up-and-look from the outside, reached by a short trail, and its original giant lens is now on display in the park's interpretive center.

The water off the cape carries a grim nickname: the Graveyard of the Pacific. The long stretch of coast from Oregon up to Vancouver Island has swallowed more than two thousand ships over the past two centuries, and the Columbia River Bar right here is one of its most feared points. Where the huge outflow of the river slams into Pacific swells over a shifting bar of sand, calm water can turn into breaking walls of surf with almost no warning.

Hundreds of vessels are documented wrecked at or near the mouth of the Columbia alone. It is such demanding water that the Coast Guard runs its National Motor Lifeboat School here, the only school in the country for training rescue crews in heavy surf. On a rough day you may catch their motor lifeboats punching out through the bar on purpose, practicing in the very seas that everyone else is trying to escape.

Long before it was a park, this was Fort Canby, one of three forts built to guard the mouth of the Columbia River, together with Fort Stevens across the water in Oregon and Fort Columbia just up the shore. The Army began fortifying the cape during the Civil War, in the 1860s, and later named the post for General Edward Canby, who was killed in the Modoc War.

Over the next eighty years the early earthwork guns gave way to concrete batteries with disappearing rifles that dropped out of sight to reload, and during World War Two new guns were dug into McKenzie Head to watch for enemy ships that never came. The fort was retired after the war and became a state park in the early 1950s. You can still walk through the mossy concrete ruins of Battery Harvey Allen and the McKenzie Head emplacement, quiet now under the spruce.

This is the corner of the map the Corps of Discovery had walked across a continent to reach. In November 1805, after following the Columbia down toward its mouth, William Clark wrote in his journal the words that have echoed ever since: 'Ocian in view! O! the joy.' In truth he wrote them a little early, from a camp still up the wide estuary where the far shore only looked like open sea, but the feeling was real, and within weeks the group stood on this coast for good.

Clark himself came out to Cape Disappointment in late November 1805 with a small party who, in his words, wanted to see more of the ocean. The cape had been named years earlier, in 1788, by a British trader named John Meares, who sailed right past the mouth of the Columbia without realizing the great river was there and left disappointed. Today the Lewis and Clark Interpretive Center stands on the bluff above the water, marking the western end of the Lewis and Clark National Historic Trail and telling the expedition's whole story.

Beyond the history, Cape Disappointment is simply a beautiful, moody stretch of coast across more than two thousand acres. Benson Beach runs long and wild on the ocean side, while Waikiki Beach, tucked in the lee of the cape, took its unlikely tropical name from a Hawaiian sailor whose body washed ashore here after a shipwreck in the early 1800s. Dead Man's Cove hides below the cliffs, a tiny crescent of sand framed by dark rock and wind-bent trees.

Trails thread through old-growth Sitka spruce out to both lighthouses, the gun batteries, and the overlooks, and the paved Discovery Trail runs up the peninsula toward Long Beach. You can stay the night in tents, cabins, or heated yurts and settle in beside Lake O'Neil. Watch the headlands for gray whales passing on their migration, harbor seals and sea lions near the jetty, and bald eagles in the tall trees, with tide pools full of sea stars and anemones at low water.

Come ready for weather. This is one of the foggiest, windiest, rainiest corners of the coast, where the light and the sea can turn dramatic in minutes, which is exactly why storm-watchers love it in winter. A Washington Discover Pass is needed to park, summer is the busiest and driest season, and the same currents and cliffs that make the cape spectacular can be dangerous, so keep back from the edges and the surf.

The closest Boutel™ stays, so you can turn this stop into an overnight. Each is an independently owned, editorially selected place to stay.