Light at the edge of the World
the Assateague Lighthouse
This 142 foot brick tower was built in 1867 to replace a much shorter light.The 1961 film Misty of Chincoteague shows the light in its original brick state, with no daymark, the alternating bands of red and white which mark it now.
It is my favorite light, perhaps because it is the only one I've actually used as a navigational aid.
One long paddle from the north end of Assateague to the south put me in a headwind for two days. I crossed Tom's Cove in the dark, the open sea somewhere to my right, safety and my truck somewhere to the left. I had a compass course, dark water, little waves whapping me broadside, I was tired and had to make it to the right part of the beach, and not over there to the right on the Hook and out to sea!
I understand all those inspirational posters now. All those pictures of lighthouses beaming their reassuring message out into dark water.
The light was 3 miles away at first, and never closer than two. No one was there. No one could have heard my whistle.
But the blink-blink.... blink-blink of the light was reassuring. It was a clear signal in the dark, a place of certainty. If I didn't stray too far from it, I would make it across the dark water.
I have been climbing the light for years. Earlier, you could climb into the light room, the glass space at the top where the rotating lights spin all night, where the old Fresnell lens used to sit. Earlier pics have the peeling weathered paint which has now been replaced. Today, you can only climb as far as the watchroom (right under the glass light enclosure), but now you can walk out onto the thin walkway in the seawind and lean over the railing and stare out across the vast expanses of woods and marsh and channel and bay that is Assateague and Chincoteague.
It is my favorite light, perhaps because it is the only one I've actually used as a navigational aid.
One long paddle from the north end of Assateague to the south put me in a headwind for two days. I crossed Tom's Cove in the dark, the open sea somewhere to my right, safety and my truck somewhere to the left. I had a compass course, dark water, little waves whapping me broadside, I was tired and had to make it to the right part of the beach, and not over there to the right on the Hook and out to sea!
I understand all those inspirational posters now. All those pictures of lighthouses beaming their reassuring message out into dark water.
The light was 3 miles away at first, and never closer than two. No one was there. No one could have heard my whistle.
But the blink-blink.... blink-blink of the light was reassuring. It was a clear signal in the dark, a place of certainty. If I didn't stray too far from it, I would make it across the dark water.
I have been climbing the light for years. Earlier, you could climb into the light room, the glass space at the top where the rotating lights spin all night, where the old Fresnell lens used to sit. Earlier pics have the peeling weathered paint which has now been replaced. Today, you can only climb as far as the watchroom (right under the glass light enclosure), but now you can walk out onto the thin walkway in the seawind and lean over the railing and stare out across the vast expanses of woods and marsh and channel and bay that is Assateague and Chincoteague.
The top pic is how the light actually looks at night: a rotating wheel of light, the four spokes (from two offset spotlights) spinning across a starstrewn sky, flashing shadows through the woods beneath. The shadows under the trees race to one side, then vanish as new shadows catch them. It's nearly impossible (unless you have some very high tech gear) to photograph. For one, you have to climb the lighthouse hill just before the park closes (once, we got stuck past close, and caused some consternation for the rangers... the ranger took one look at the crowded van and said something like "You got any illegal substances in there?"
Like, really, my life is weird enough without any help. "Want to look? Just be aware that bucket is the camp potty..."
He declined to look and sent us on our merry way.
You also need to swath yourself like a desert dweller against mosquitoes (sweat pants, hiking boots and a windbreaker help) and use the Serious Bug Spray (Deep Woods Off is good, the old Cutter used to be the standard). I got some basic shots and did the rest on Photoshop. The light has a blink-blink (pause) blink-blink pattern: a double flash every five seconds (blink blink one two three four five).
Like, really, my life is weird enough without any help. "Want to look? Just be aware that bucket is the camp potty..."
He declined to look and sent us on our merry way.
You also need to swath yourself like a desert dweller against mosquitoes (sweat pants, hiking boots and a windbreaker help) and use the Serious Bug Spray (Deep Woods Off is good, the old Cutter used to be the standard). I got some basic shots and did the rest on Photoshop. The light has a blink-blink (pause) blink-blink pattern: a double flash every five seconds (blink blink one two three four five).
The light in early November 2018.
a walk to the top
view from the top
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Inside the top
Years ago (in the 80s and 90s) when you climbed the lighthouse, you could not go out on the breezy catwalk with its railing and clear view of the islands. You could climb into the glass light room, where the old Fresnell lens used to sit, and before it other reflectors, where the oil lamps burned once, and where the two giant rotating electric spotlights spin through the dark now. You climbed up through a narrow space into a hot greenhouse of glass, 360 degrees of view, and some lousy pictures because you were shooting through warbly refelctive glass. At some point, the catwalk was restored and deemed safer for tourists, and we no longer braved the tropical sauna that was the light room. We can now climb as far as the watchroom (under the light room) and go out on the catwalk.
I kind of miss going up there and sweltering and peering through the glass, and wondering at the technology that has, for over a century, beamed reassurance out into the night.
Here are the pics I shot back in the day....
I kind of miss going up there and sweltering and peering through the glass, and wondering at the technology that has, for over a century, beamed reassurance out into the night.
Here are the pics I shot back in the day....
