Monomoy Island Posted by l_u_k_e on 15 February 2018 (Almost) Every sunset’s a great sunset on Monomoy Sunset over Oil Shed and ponds. The very air is thick with birds. Bog wandering Rustic charm at the lighthouse Sunset over Powder Hole Downtime at camp: cards Lighthouse potluck Lighthouse kitchen and its abundant rustic charm Monomoy LIght Terns and storm. This one actually bypassed the island completely. Rustic charm at the lightouse Tern dive bombing The light’s been out for 90 years. A pool for the chicks. Distant views of the light. Someone else’s footsteps on the trail to the Lighthouse. Could be USFWS, USDA, or someone wandering the island. Unhatched eggs are a reality of life on the island. Thanks, from a friend Monomoy Crossover, looking north More Lighthouse dinner shots Wandering the mists Lighthouse approach Coyote tracks: not welcome Poi balls post-sunset Quahogs- they’re beautiful. Monomoy Light tower steps Horseshoe crab molts Monday morning commute The humble weatherport, bastion of civilization. Monomoy Light, moon light. Tern colony welcoming committee Terns at night Monomoy Light, close approach Night sky, looking west. Downtime at camp: adult coloring books Sit and wait Monomoy Light, Lighthouse Beach Landing approach Monomoy Light, closeup DCIM120GOPRO Leftover seal food Typical terns Fishing for diner at the lighthouse The adults hate us, but the chicks don’t seem too bothered by humans West Beach and Nantucket Sound Celestial lighthouse over Monomoy Light Sun over Atlantic Lighthouse kitchen sunset Sunset over ponds and Powder Hole, from the top of the light Newly-hatched Common Tern chicks Lighthouse exit The Lighthouse Monomoy Crossover, looking south Night over the weatherport In flight The Oil Shed Private beaches on the Cape suck, until they’re your private beach. The pot rack at the lightouse The sunset’s great, but what are we supposed to do now? Coyote tracks, approaching tern colony Some birds still trying to get out for a fly. Lighthouse exit strategy: don’t get bogged down. Waiting for the storm to either crash into camp or pass us by.