Archive for the 'Maine Lighthouses' Category

The name “Pemaquid” is said to have had its origins in an Abenaki Indian word for “situated far out.”

Immigrants from Bristol, England, established a settlement at Pemaquid in 1631. The village had as many as 200 people by the 1670s, but Abenaki Indians burned it during King Philip’s War. The settlement was rebuilt but suffered further attacks from the Indians and the French, and it was abandoned before 1700. It was resettled in 1729. Today, the area is part of the town of Bristol, incorporated in 1765.

The point, at the entrance to Muscongus Bay to the east and Johns Bay to the west, was the scene of many shipwrecks through the centuries, including the 1635 wreck of the British ship Angel Gabriel.

In May 1826, as maritime trade, fishing, and the shipping of lumber were increasing in midcoast Maine, Congress appropriated $4,000 for the building of a lighthouse at Pemaquid Point. The land was purchased from Samuel and Sarah Martin—descendents of survivors of the Angel Gabriel—for $90.

READ MORE here on the history of Pemaquid Light.

From 1881 to 1899 a breakwater was built from the northern shore of Rockland Harbor to protect the harbor from Nor’easters. The Bodwell Granite Company used around 700,000 tons of granite for the project, which cost more than three quarters of a million dollars. As the work progressed, a small moveable beacon was moved farther out each time the breakwater was extended. The light was relocated four times between 1888 and 1895. Finally, in 1902, a permanent lighthouse was built at the breakwater’s end by the W.H. Glover Company of Rockland after a Congressional appropriation of $30,000. The breakwater is almost a mile long now.

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Cape Neddick Light, AKA Nubble Point, in York Maine.

More pics below the fold- that show the Maine FOG at it’s almost best.

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The Lighthouse

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.

Even at this distance I can see the tides,
Upheaving, break unheard along its base,
A speechless wrath, that rises and subsides
in the white tip and tremor of the face.

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!

No one alone: from each projecting cape
And perilous reef along the ocean’s verge,
Starts into life a dim, gigantic shape,
Holding its lantern o’er the restless surge.

Like the great giant Christopher it stands
Upon the brink of the tempestuous wave,
Wading far out among the rocks and sands,
The night o’er taken mariner to save.

And the great ships sail outward and return
Bending and bowing o’er the billowy swells,
And ever joyful, as they see it burn
They wave their silent welcome and farewells.

They come forth from the darkness, and their sails
Gleam for a moment only in the blaze,
And eager faces, as the light unveils
Gaze at the tower, and vanish while they gaze.

The mariner remembers when a child,
on his first voyage, he saw it fade and sink
And when returning from adventures wild,
He saw it rise again o’er ocean’s brink.

Steadfast, serene, immovable, the same,
Year after year, through all the silent night
Burns on forevermore that quenchless flame,
Shines on that inextinguishable light!

It sees the ocean to its bosum clasp
The rocks and sea-sand with the kiss of peace:
It sees the wild winds lift it in their grasp,
And hold it up, and shake it like a fleece.

The startled waves leap over it; the storm
Smites it with all the scourges of the rain,
And steadily against its solid form
press the great shoulders of the hurricane.

The sea-bird wheeling round it, with the din
of wings and winds and solitary cries,
Blinded and maddened by the light within,
Dashes himself against the glare, and dies.

A new Prometheus, chained upon the rock,
Still grasping in his hand the fire of love,
it does not hear the cry, nor heed the shock,
but hails the mariner with words of love.

“Sail on!” it says: “sail on, ye stately ships!”
And with your floating bridge the ocean span;
Be mine to guard this light from all eclipse.
Be yours to bring man neared unto man.
~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Portland Head Light, located in Portland Maine is one of the world’s most photographed lighthouse. It’s picturesque quality comes from the location, natural elements and accessibility. Surrounding the property are several “hot spots” where photographers can be seen all year round, setting up their cameras.

Lots of pictures below the fold, from years past visits to Cape Elizabeth.

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The first Whaleback Lighthouse, erected in 1829 at the mouth of the Piscataqua River near the Maine-New Hampshire boundary, was so poorly built due to an unscrupulous contractor’s corner cutting that keepers often wondered during storms if the entire building would collapse into the sea.

When the first stones were laid for the foundation, the contractor didn’t bother to level the ground underneath, instead filling in gaps with smaller stones. As soon as the first storm hit the lighthouse, all the small stones were washed away, leaving the foundation with no underpinning.

In 1837 and 1838, Congress appropriated a total of $20,000 to build a breakwater on the east side of the foundation for protection. However, after Colonel Sylvanus Thayer, the founder of West Point, and noted Boston architect Alexander Paris were asked for their opinion of the lighthouse and proposed breakwater, they advised tearing the whole thing down and starting over, as no breakwater could secure the present structure. Nothing was done- the money wasn’t spent and the lighthouse remained dangerous.

For each year that passed and the tower somehow survived, bureaucrats in Washington became less convinced that all that money needed to be spent on a new lighthouse. They even installed a new fourth-order Fresnel lens and lantern in 1855. Iron clamps were put in place to secure the stones in the foundation pier, but they snapped off one by one. After some particularly severe storms in March of 1868, large cracks developed in the foundation. Later that year, an “iron band of six inches by two” was placed around the upper course of the stone pier, hoping it would help the structure survive the winter. An impassioned plea was also sent to Congress for funds for a new lighthouse, and Congress responded with $70,000 on July 15, 1870. The new lighthouse was to be in the style of the famous Eddystone Lighthouse, which was built to withstand conditions out in the middle of the English Channel.

The Whaleback Lighthouse was automated in 1963, when its Fresnel lens was replaced by revolving aerobeacons. In 2002, a VRB-25 optic was installed that could operate on solar power.

In October of 2005, Whaleback Light was licensed to the American Lighthouse Foundation. This organization is working with the town of Kittery, Maine to preserve the stone tower, which still warns mariners away from its dangerous ledges with two white flashes every ten seconds. The town of Kittery is also planning on restoring the Wood Island Life Boat Station, which is located near the Whalback Ledge Lighthouse, and turning it into a maritime/lighthouse museum and education center.

In June of 2007, the Whaleback Lighthouse, deemed excess by the Coast Guard, was offered at no cost to eligible entities. Friends of Portsmouth Harbor Lighthouse, a chapter of the American Lighthouse Foundation, has applied for ownership.

Up in Portland Maine yesterday during a wild ass thunderstorm…

Machias Seal Island is a treeless 10 acre rock / bird sanctuary located in the Bay of Fundy approximately 18 kilometers south west of Grand Manan Island. An island claimed by both Canada and the United States, Canadians have maintained a light station there since 1832. Today two lightkeepers man the station for 28 day shifts. When their stint is finished two more keepers replace them for the next 28 days. Change-over is made by a Canadian Coast Guard helicopter.

So, not technically a Maine lighthouse, I include it here cause it’s just ONE of those foggy, misty Maine-like places I’ve been.

Mount Desert Rock is one of the most isolated and desolate places ever used for a lighthouse. Located off the shore of Maine, twenty-six miles from the nearest harbor, the rocky islet is only 600 yards long and 200 yards wide, and its highest point is only twenty feet above the sea at low tide. During storms, the entire island is submerged by the waves.

Congress allocated $5,000 in 1829 for a lighthouse “on the most eligible” spot on Mount Desert Rock. The Lighthouse, consisting of a stone dwelling surmounted by a wooden tower and “bird cage” lantern was completed by Berry in the summer of 1830. It was shabby work!

The original 1830 optic consisted of a chandelier of ten Argand lamps backed by 14-inch reflectors displayed from a focal plane of 56 feet above sea level. This was not good enough to be an effective aid to navigation, and in 1847 Congress authorized $15,000 for the “rebuilding” of the lighthouse.

The new lighthouse, which was separate from the dwelling, was described in an 1850 report as “a beautiful tower, built of heavy granite stone, and just such a building as the locality needed, to stand the furry of the elements.” In 1857, the newly formed Lighthouse Board supplied a new lantern room and third-order Fresnel lens for the tower. The keeper’s logs contain records of a lot of shipwrecks and rescues.

Mount Desert Rock was/is a desolate place, and nothing grew (grows) there. Fishermen would show their thanks for the light by bringing baskets of dirt to the rock. The keepers would throw the dirt into protected crevasses in the rock and try to plant a few flowers or vegetables. Unfortunately, the next storm to appear usually tore the plants out and washed the dirt away.

Since the late 1970s, the light station has been used as a whale watching station by the College of the Atlantic. The lighthouse was transferred to the college under the Maine Lights Program in 1998 and remains an active aid to navigation. The lighthouse is automated and the beacon is solar-powered. It is listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

“Bug Light”

In November 1831, a fierce storm ravaged Portland (Maine) Harbor, destroying wharves and buildings. In response, a 2,500-foot protective breakwater was planned for the south side of the harbor’s entrance. A lighthouse was included in the plans for the structure. Construction began in 1836 but was soon halted by lack of funds. The breakwater reached 1,800 feet and was uncapped for much of its length. The shortage of funds also delayed the building of the lighthouse, making the breakwater more of a navigational hindrance than a help. Finally, in 1854, funds for a lighthouse were appropriated. Construction began the following year.

First lighted in June 1875, the new Portland Breakwater Light, known locally as “Bug Light,” was modeled after the Greek Choragic Monument of Lysicrates, built in the fourth century B.C.
The design of the cast-iron tower is unique; the cylinder is surrounded by six fluted columns.
It has been suggested that Thomas Ustick Walter, who designed and erected the cast-iron dome on the nation’s Capitol building, may have had something to do with designing the lighthouse.

The lighthouse held a sixth order Fresnel lens. The walk on the breakwater was still difficult, but still no keeper’s house was built.

The Portland Breakwater Lighthouse was electrified in 1934, and then watched over by the keeper at Spring Point Ledge. No longer needed, the dwelling connected to the tower was removed in 1935. In 1940, the Todd-Bath Iron Shipbuilding Company built a facility along the south shore next to the breakwater and lighthouse. Due to the demands of World War II, which was raging at the time, fill was placed along both sides of the breakwater to enlarge the company’s property.

In 1973, the Portland Breakwater Light was placed on the National Register of Historic Places.

Seguin Island is one of the foggiest places in the world – one year, the fog signal blew for almost one-third of the entire year, a total of 2,734 hours!

Seguin Island is located near one of the first places in North America to be settled by Europeans. In 1607, thirteen years before the Mayflower arrived at Plymouth Rock, the ships Gift of God and Mary and John, commanded by Captain George Popham and Captain Raleigh Gilbert and carrying over one hundred people, arrived in rough waters and set up a colony at what is today known as Popham Beach. Hardships and disaster forced the abandonment of the colony after just one year, and the settlers sailed back to England.

The name Seguin comes from an old Native American word sutquin, meaning “the place where the sea vomits.” The sea can be exceptionally rough here, especially when a fast tide coming down the Kennebec River meets an opposing strong wind coming off the ocean. In addition, the island is often shrouded in fog, making it a hidden navigational hazard.

Seguin Island is situated roughly two and a half miles off the mouth of the Kennebec River, and it was thought that a light there could serve both as a coastal beacon and as an entrance light to this important waterway. It is thus not surprising that Seguin Island Lighthouse is one of the oldest on the Atlantic coast, having been authorized by President George Washington. The lighthouse is also the second one to be built in what is now the state of Maine.

Its fixed white light is the only remaining first-order lens operating north of Rhode Island, and the last continuously operating first-order lens north of Virginia. The lighthouse is listed on the National Register of Historic Places, and the tower and attached museum are open to the public.