The last forty miles of the coast road, and the fishing town where the paved road simply stops.
Words and photographs by Ines Calder
Mile nine. After the last junction, the road only goes one way.
MILE THIRTY-ONE
The last gas station
A single pump, a dog that doesn't move for cars, and the best coffee on the whole route. The owner has run it for thirty years and still writes the prices in chalk.
The pump
The dog, who does not move
“The road ends at a harbor with nineteen boats and no sign. We asked twice if we had the right place.”
Mile forty. The harbor, at the end of everything.
WHERE WE STAYED
A room above the harbor
Nobody in town locks a door, so ours had no lock. The boats wake you at five.
Read the full essay
All six photographs, and the forty miles between them.
