The Lighthouse that Started it All

It was January 1973, and I had been married only a few weeks. My new husband, who I had met fifteen months earlier on a blind date when I was at college, was stationed at the Naval Air Station Brunswick, Maine. We lived in a small apartment in a large, rambling house in the town of Bath. Our place was on the bottom floor. It was so cold that I wore two pairs of socks inside my slippers and spent much of the day on the sofa swathed in a blanket. We dared not turn up the heat, as paychecks were slim and stretched to their limit.

The weather that January seemed unbelievably cold for a girl from Maryland. Snow was heaped into huge pyramids in parking lots. None of the streets in town were clear. Rooftops were festooned with snow, with long icicles dripping from their eaves. Thankfully, I had a maxi coat that wrapped me in warmth from my shoulders to my ankles and a pair of warm knee-hi boots. My mom had insured that I would stay warm with gloves and a crocheted hat with a pompom.

For entertainment, Jon and I would drive our '67 Volkswagen to the coast to look at the ocean. Sometimes we took sandwiches and listened to the radio. The winter sea was awe-inspiring!

On a trip to Reid State Park in early February, we were amazed to see big waves pummeling the shoreline. I got out of the VW, buttoned up my coat, and climbed onto the rocks for a better view. Suddenly, the waves seemed unimportant. Beyond them was an island with a white spike on it, a white spike with a light on top. After a few seconds I realized it was a lighthouse. 

I was mesmerized: Someone lives out there, I thought. The lightkeeper. His job is to take care of the place. Is he alone, or is there a wife and family? Maybe a dog or a cat? How does he get back and forth to shore? This was not like the Little Red Lighthouse in a children's book my mom had read to me when I was small.

I must have stared at the island and its sentinel a long time, long enough to fall into a reverie of sorts. Hypnotized by the light. I awoke hearing Jon yelling to me: "Watch out!" 

Just then, a cold, slate-gray wave arched over me and threw itself on my back as I ran from it. I was wet and cold and shivering when Jon scooped me up and ran with me to the car. Nobly, he removed my coat and gave me his.

"That's a lighthouse on that island!" I protested, as he tucked me in the car and turned on the heat. "A lighthouse—very cool!"

Seguin Island Lighthouse in the Gulf of Maine at the mouth of the Kennebec River, was established in 1795 and is the second oldest lighthouse in the Pine Tree State. Its first-order Fresnel lens shines from 180 feet above sea. The brick building in the foreground was the fog signal house. The small building to the left of the tower was the oil house.In the distance is the shoreline where I first stood to look at the lighthouse that would inspire my career.

I was hooked. That week, Jon stopped by the base library and picked up some books for me. One of them was Edward Rowe Snow's Lighthouses of New England.  On the cover was Minots Light being pounded by a big wave, I devoured the book. The second time through, I took notes. Weeks later they went into a scrapbook. (Today, my notes occupy several file cabinets and dozens of CDs and DVDs.)

Sequin Island from the air, as seen on YouTube.

Snow's stories about Seguin Island Lighthouse were amazing, especially the one about the ghost of the lighthouse, a nineteenth century keeper's wife who went mad from the isolation of the place and played her piano so incessantly her husband murdered her with an ax. On misty evenings, a tinkle of phantom piano keys supposedly wafts over the waters of the Kennebec Estuary—the poltergeist of Seguin Island Lighthouse. True tale? Probably not, but it got my attention and has fascinated my readers and listeners for decades.

Using my notes and a paper map of the Maine coast, we began lighthouse hunting in earnest in the spring of 1973. Pemaquid Point, Portland Head, Cape Elizabeth, Hendricks Head, Cuckolds, Tenants Harbor, the Nubble. None of the lighthouses were open to the public. This was before lighthouses became popular tourist sites. There were no printed directions, so finding the lights was often a challenge.

By the end of our first year of marriage another lighthouse hunter had joined us, baby Jessica. Little did we know she'd grow up loving lighthouses like her mom. Today, she's a docent at a lighthouse and has designed and fabricated an exhibit about them. Our son, Scott, loves lighthouses too and always brings home pictures for me when he travels near one. I'm grateful, as well, that my granddaughters—his daughters—are interested. They have a stash of kids' books about lighthouses, do lighthouse jigsaw puzzles, paint lighthouses on everything, and they absolutely loved this past year's lighthouse Christmas tree I put up in our sitting room. Lighthouse appreciation and preservation DNA has been passed on!

The tower's opulent Fresnel lens and auxiliary light. Photo from the Friends of Seguin Island Lighthouse Blog.

It's been 45 years since that first glimpse of Seguin Island Lighthouse in 1973. Whenever anyone asks why I love lighthouses, I point to my husband. After all, he took me to the Maine coast and brought me that first lighthouse book. I was ripe for a hobby...a hobby that evolved into a career. He never imagined what an obsession it would be and how it would shape our lives and influence our children and grandchildren. And, he has rescued me from more than one wave since 1973!

Can you believe I have yet to get out to Seguin Island to visit the site and climb the light tower that first inspired me? That will change soon! I've made a pact with myself that I will visit lighthouses that have special meaning for me or that I've written about for magazines and newspapers. 

And, I'm on the hunt for one of these. Come on eBay!!!

Harbour Lights

It ought to be in my collection, don't you think?

An Amazing Big Lamp in the Heavens

            Once in a blue moon, I get a chance to talk about something uncommon in our earthly realm, something non-lighthouse. If you're only interested in lighthouses, stop reading this post now, though you'll miss some amazing lighthouse photos later in the blog. This entry is about the moon, which I think of as a huge natural lighthouse. Sailors of old used it for navigation. If you've ever tried to calculate a lunar position, you know about this.

            I’ve always regarded the moon as a giant lamp in the heavens, a lunar lighthouse of sorts. And being an avid amateur astronomer, I spend a good deal of my time watching the sky, day and night. It's a wonderful, free playground up there. Go check it out.

Hormbersund Lighthouse, Norway

In this blog, I’d like to encourage you to enjoy a free celestial show coming up January 31^st. An eclipse and a blue moon. Yes, there really is such a thing as a blue moon. It doesn’t just apply to lovesick rock and roll singers and a colorful mixed drink of curacao and gin. And it rarely occurs alongside a total lunar eclipse. But in two weeks it will put on an extraordinary show. (More about the eclipse later.)

            A blue moon is an authentic astronomical event, Can the moon be blue? Yes, in several ways. Certain atmospheric conditions, such as smoky air from forest fires, can make the moon appear blue. So can dust from a big volcanic eruption.

            In 1883, when the Indonesian volcano Krakatoa blew its top in a blast equaling the force of 100-megaton nuclear bomb, dust circulated in the atmosphere for several years, causing glorious blue moons. The 1980 eruption of Mt. St. Helens and the 1991 blast from Mt. Pinatubo caused a similar spate of blue-tinted moons.

            Why? Well…the particles of dirt from such catastrophic events are just the right size, each about 1 micron wide (one millionth of a meter), to scatter all the colors of light except the blue wavelengths. This gives the lunar face a bluish cast.

Barnegat Lighthouse, New Jersey

            But smoke and volcanic ash won’t be the cause of the January 31 blue moon, at least we hope it won’t. Instead, the traditional and more predictable definition of blue moon will apply. January 1^st was the first full moon of the month, the Wolf Moon, and January 30 will bring another full moon, the Snow Moon. Two full moons in one calendar month mean the second one is called a blue moon.

            Why? Not because of color. The moon won’t have a blue hue on January 31. Instead, this moon is “blue” because it’s a rare occurrence. It only happens “in a blue moon.”

            Usually, only one full moon occurs in a month, since about 29.5 days are required for the moon to show all of its phases. Months with 30 days are less likely to experience blue moons than those with 31 days. February never has a blue moon, even in a leap year, because it is always shorter than the moon’s phase period. March 31, 2018 also will have a blue moon, so if you miss the January blue moon, you can see the phenomenon again in March.

            Calendrical blue moons occur roughly every 2.7 years or once in 33 full moons. This adds up to about seven blue moons during the Metonic Cycle, a predictable period of 235 lunations (moon cycles). At the beginning of this cycle, the full moon is at a set point in its orbit around Earth. It then orbits 235 times before it arrives back at that exact same point 18.6 years later.  

            The cycle was named for Meton of Athens who discovered it in the fifth century B.C.E. The ancient Greeks were attuned to anything cyclical, which they felt had significance in political and social affairs. The Greek calendar was different than the one we use today, but it had blue moon months. Public monuments in Athens were inscribed with the Metonic dates, and important events, such as the Senate convening, were scheduled according to the full moon schedule.

Jupiter Lighthouse, Florida

            Also important in Greek affairs was the time known as a “lunar standstill” when the moon experiences a slight and very slow wobble in its motion and allows observers to view a bit of its dark side. (We see only one side of the moon throughout its phases. Standstills reveal small slices of the unseen side. The moon really does not stand still at this time; rather it reaches a high or low point in its orbit for a brief time and appears to be stationary.)

            If all this lunar language sounds complicated and brain boggling….well, it is. Lunar motions are among the most challenging celestial gyrations to understand. Even scientists admit the moon can be mysterious. Isaac Newton once commented that calculating lunar positions made his head ache. Thankfully, computers now do the number crunching.

            A better appreciation of moon melodramatics might be achieved by simply recognizing the duality and beauty of our moon. Its face and positions in the heavens are ever-changing and sometimes surprising, as when a blue moon occurs, or we get a peek at the edge of the dark side, or we get a lunar eclipse. Yet the moon is still a predictable friend in the night sky and a timepiece of sorts.

Split Rock Lighthouse, Minnesota

            Finding the blue moon on January 31 will be easy. Head for some open space with a clear eastern horizon (the ocean would be perfect), and take some time to observe the moon’s rise over the horizon. Moonrise will occur in the northeast a few minutes after sunset. (A good rule to remember is that full moons rise along the eastern horizon at approximately the same time the sun sets in the opposite direction.) The moon’s bright light will wash out the dim surrounding stars of its host constellation, Virgo, the maiden.

            As if a blue moon isn’t enough, we’ll also be treated to a total lunar eclipse on January 31. In 2017, we were treated to a solar eclipse, when the moon moved in front of the sun. A lunar eclipse occurs when the shadow of the earth passes over the moon. Not everyone will see the January 31 lunar eclipse. Here in Connecticut, where I live, only the earliest part of the eclipse will be seen. My daughter, in Seattle, will see much more. Check this website to learn more about what you’ll see at your location and when. https://www.timeanddate.com/eclipse/lunar/2018-january-31

            And while you’re watching this rare celestial show, consider the regularity and reliability of the gears that keep our universe ticking. The moon is only one cog in the grand cosmic wheel, but it’s an astonishingly predictable one. 

Point Wilson Lighthouse, Washington

Many lighthouses that are open to the public offer full moon climbs. Check for one in your area.

Have fun with your camera! Above is Hillsboro Inlet Lighthouse in Florida and below is Marblehead Lighthouse in Massachusetts.

Nubble Lighthouse, Maine