The rocky ledge runs far into the sea,
and on its outer point, some miles away,
the lighthouse lifts its massive masonry,
a pillar of fire by night, of cloud by day.
…
And as the evening darkens, lo! how bright,
through the deep purple of the twilight air,
beams forth the sudden radiance of its light,
with strange, unearthly splendor in the glare!
 
An excerpt from The Lighthouse
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 


There are eleven lighthouses along the Oregon coast, thus far we have visited or been within sight of seven.   It is the setting and designated purpose I suppose that gives ‘light’ to my romantic notion of what life might have been as a Lighthouse Keeper on the shores of the Oregon coast in the late 1800s.   Most every time I visit one of these historic buildings I am in awe, wrapped up in the remoteness of its location, the rugged cliffs and the monstrous waves that still pound and strike the towering rocks upon which these massive white pillars stand….   the wind blows constantly.
 
I imagine the keeper, smart in his uniform, holding true to the hour of the day, constantly aware of his role in the safe passage of those travelling the ocean aside.  A noble profession for sure; one of being not only keeper of the light, but together with the light, temporary guardians of living souls on ships and in fishing vessels passing by far out at sea.  As I read the history, I am struck by the pride, the passion that must have come with the obligation and responsibility of keeping these towering beacons lit night after night, day, week, month, year after year.  How else can one justify the demands of the day, at a time when oil was what kept these great lanterns burning;  the drudgery of hauling fuel up tall curled stairways, the constant cleaning of the lenses and glass windows to remove soot from an evening’s burn... the potential chaos and damage of a stormy night, a need for ringing the fog bell every 15 seconds…. the monotony of daily chores …and the loneliness and dreariness of long cold winters…
 
Theses lighthouses, they are beautiful, grand, they stand serene in the brightness of a sunny day, and although now with automated lights, their service mostly outdated given modern technologies, they still invoke within me a romantic notion of living the life and being a keeper to their constant flame… providing hope, safety, and assurance to sailors and seafaring passengers alike all along this rugged coastline.   
 

 
…. Given my enchantment of lighthouses, Alan has decided he might need just one more career before he is fully done working….   Of late, every time we visit a lighthouse I break out into song…. It is a silly little song … but it is the one that comes to mind as we walk back to the car ….. since I can’t sing it for you in this email…. Thought I would send a link…. Enjoy!
 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wNTf8iublLc
 
Love and hugs to all.
Ann