California Lighthouses 1

Piedras Blancas Lighthouse

The quiet cove at San Simeon was a bustling seaport in the late 1800s. Whaling was a huge industry and ships that plied the waters off the Central Coast brought their catch in to the San Simeon pier to offload to the Whaling Station there.

The whaling station was established near San Simeon in 1864 to surprise the huge creatures as they hugged the nearby shoreline during their annual migration. By the early 1870s, San Simeon Bay had also become a substantial port, as lumber, farm produce, and Cinnabar, an ore mined for its mercury, were exported from California's Central Coast. The real reason for building a lighthouse at Piedras Blancas, however, was not for local commerce but to serve the maritime traffic traveling up and down the California coast.

Juan Rodriguez Cabrillo noted the three prominent rocks just north of San Simeon in 1542 and named them Piedras Blancas, which means white rocks. Naturally, ships’ captains tried to be careful of them, but many ships met their doom after slamming into them. A light station at Point Piedras Blancas, just north of the bay, was needed.  In 1866, this location was chosen to fill the gap between the lighthouses at Point Conception and Point Pinos.  The Lighthouse is located on a rugged windswept point of land six miles north of Hearst Castle, along California’s scenic Highway One.

On April 25, 1874, material for the tower was landed through the surf at the point, and a crew of around thirty began work on the ornate tower. Leveling the rock on the point to accommodate the tower proved more difficult than expected as the rock was "so hard as almost to resist the best tempered drills." The conical tower had an inside diameter of twenty-four feet at its polygonal base and tapered to a diameter of just over twelve feet at the parapet.

The Piedras Blancas Lighthouse was completed in 1875 and a two story Victorian style dwelling was completed in 1876. The original tower was 100 feet tall and a housed a first-order Fresnel lens. The tower contains a circular iron stairway which reaches to the light.  A fog signal building and additional keeper's dwelling were added in 1905.  

Lighthouses in California were generally built on top of high cliffs. The tall imposing lighthouses common on the Atlantic coast were not necessary thanks to the California terrain. But at Piedras Blancas, a classic tall lighthouse was built and it is now one of only two like that in the state, Pigeon Point being the other.

The large, two-story, Lighthouse Keepers’ Victorian dwelling had twelve rooms, stood fifty feet northeast of the tower, and housed three keepers and their families, though it was only designed for two.

While the keepers now had comfortable accommodations, they still lacked one critical thing - water. When rainfall proved inadequate at filling the station's water tanks, water had to be purchased and hauled in at a considerable expense. After Congress appropriated $2,000, a well was sunk at the station, and a pump powered by a windmill was erected over it to help supply the station's water.

Stephen H. Morse was the first head keeper of the station, and he was succeeded by Captain Lorin Vincent Thorndyke in 1879. Thorndyke was a native of Maine, and, before accepting the assignment at Piedras Blancas, he had circumnavigated the globe five times and served at several other lighthouses in California. Keeper Thorndyke married Elizabeth Jarmon soon after arriving at the station, and two sons, Lorin, Jr. and Emory, were born to them at the lighthouse.

Lorin, Jr. recalls that during two or three summers in the 1880’s a schooner from San Francisco anchored off the white rocks near the station to harvest the deep covering of guano that had accumulated over the years. Men were transferred to the rocks in small boats where they would shovel the droppings into sacks, which were then transferred to the schooner. As one can easily imagine, Lorin remembers that a most offensive odor drifted over the station when the guano was disturbed.

In 1906 a fog signal building was built. Inside was the latest equipment to make sound loud enough to carry out to sea. 

Different fuels were used over the years to burn and produce the light. Oil and kerosene were two of them and these were kept in a small bunker just below the lighthouse and in front of the fog signal building. This bunker was constructed of concrete and is the first concrete building built in San Luis Obispo County. Light keepers and their assistants had to haul the oil or kerosene from the bunker up to the lighthouse and then ascend the winding staircase to the lens housing area.

In the hills southeast of the lighthouse, William Randolph Hearst started construction of his expansive castle in 1919. The Piedras Blancas Lighthouse was incorporated into a crest found above the entrance to the living room in Casa del Monte, one of three guest "cottages" located near the castle. Work on the castle continued until Hearst left San Simeon in 1947.

In 1949 the lens and the upper section of the structure were removed due to earthquake damage and a rotating aero-beacon replaced it. The present height of the lighthouse is 74 feet. The Fresnel lens was saved and is housed in an enclosure in downtown Cambria.

Piedras Blancas Light Station, which was once administered by the U.S. Lighthouse Service, and then the U.S. Coast Guard, is now managed by the Department of the Interior’s Bureau of Land Management. The BLM and the Piedras Blancas Light Station Association are restoring this historical site to its former glory.

The lighthouse grounds consist of fields full of native vegetation. For many years the area contained overgrown ice plant called capobrotus, the type seen along California freeways. Volunteers worked to pull this invasive plant out, but miraculously, the native vegetation began to return on its own. Docents have placed interpretive signs near the plants to benefit recognition.

Inside the lighthouse are displays explaining the early equipment used in operating the beacon. In the middle of the interior hangs a weighted pendulum that extends into an eight-foot hole in the floor. The pendulum swung and was part of the apparatus that made the beacon up top turn.

In the early days lighthouses were recognized by ships at sea during daylight hours by their special colors. Each lighthouse was assigned a specific set of colors and was painted accordingly. A ship passing by could tell where they were based on those colors. The ship’s captain could spy them through his looking glass and say, “Aha, white with black, we must be at Point Piedras Blancas.”

Recently the lighthouse was painted a bright white with dark trim. This removed the grime and rust stains that had been part of the façade for many years. Salt air takes its toll on buildings situated by the sea so five special coats of paint were applied to the lighthouse structure to protect it. The structure now more closely resembles what it looked like in its earliest days.

Volunteers have worked more than 100,000 hours restoring the lighthouse and surrounding buildings. The fuel oil house has been restored and a replica of the station’s shingled watch room has been completed. Other historic structures on the site have also been repaired. The next project slated to be done is to replicate the tower’s lantern room and although the Fresnel lens will not be moved back, this will have the lighthouse appearing exactly as it was when it was first built.

Tours of the light station are offered if you visit.

Just south of the lighthouse is a relatively new elephant seal colony. It is believed that overcrowding at other colonies prompted a group of seals to found the new colony around 1990. From an original population of just nineteen, the colony attracted approximately 10,000 seals in the year 2000.  Vicki and I took photos of them when we visited.

Thanks to several varieties of seals along with gulls, cormorants and other winged creatures, the rocks offshore from the lighthouse seem certain to retain the name of Piedras Blancas.

Oregon Lighthouses 1

Tillamook Rock Lighthouse

The following is an account of the building of the lighthouse from LighthouseFriends.com.  It is so interesting I had to repeat it here:

”One mile west of Tillamook Head, a rock rises from the ocean. In the shape of a sea monster, it is where old Nor'easters go to die. Where Indians believed under ocean tunnels inhabited by spirits came to the surface. Where sheer cliffs drop straight into the sea to depths of 96 to 240 feet. Where clinging to the top, fighting off the gripping hands of the sea, stands a lighthouse. A symbol of the precarious line between human endeavor and the forces of nature.

“An intriguing and powerful testament of the will and determination of the human spirit, the story of Tillamook Rock Lighthouse began in 1879. Originally, it was hoped that a lighthouse could be built at Tillamook Head, a 1,000 foot high headland 20 miles south of the Columbia River. However, with its high elevation, fog often shrouded the top and its shear face offered no acceptable alternative.

In June 1879, a lighthouse engineer boated out to the rock to determine if a lighthouse there would be feasible. Though there were monstrous seas, and a landing was impossible, the engineer decided the rock could be conquered.

“The first surveyors accessed the site by jumping from a rocking boat onto the rock. On one attempt, master mason John R. Trewavas, who had a major role in the construction of a similar lighthouse on Wolf Rock off Land's End, England, made the trip to the rock with his assistant Cherry. In attempting a landing, Trewavas slipped and was swept into the churning sea. Cherry dove in after him, but couldn't find him. The boat was able to rescue Cherry, but Trewavas was never found.

“The locals, skittish of the project to begin with, raised an outcry over the foolhardiness of the endeavor. No local skilled workers could be found willing to work on the construction. Charles A. Ballantyne, who replaced Trewavas, hired men unfamiliar with the area and sequestered them in the Cape Disappointment keepers' quarters until construction could begin, in hopes the locals would not scare them away.

“On October 21, 1879, four laborers were put on the rock. The rest of the crew followed five days later. Putting men on the rock entailed stringing a 4 ½" line from the U.S. Revenue Cutter, Thomas Corwin, to the rock. The men would then use a "breeches buoy" to cross the line. With the cutter rolling and pitching in the swells, the line was never taut, and the transported fellow was often drug through the icy water.

“The first two weeks of construction found the crew totally exposed to the elements. Barren of caves, overhangs or ledges, the rock could not even provide minimal shelter. The workers chipped, chiseled, and blasted away. And then it hit.  January 2, 1880. A dying Nor'easter. The seas crashed above the crest of the rock. Rocks flew as breakers tore off chunks of the rock and tossed them at will. The perilous storm pounded the rock. The storehouse was swept away taking most of their tools and provisions. Then the water tank, the traveler line and the roof of the blacksmith shop were ripped away. Clinging on for life, the men stayed in their shelter, the safest place on the rock. Hungry, soaked, and with no place to go.

“The Corwin was finally able to approach the rock 16 days after the storm began. All of the workmen were alive but in dire circumstances. The traveler line was set up again, this time using a kite to transport it to the rock. Food, supplies and clothing were again in the hands of the workers.

“By May 31st 1880, 224 days into construction, the hump of the rock had been leveled and construction of the lighthouse began.  All materials for the lighthouse were brought by boat and hauled up the rock by derricks. The structure originally was a one-story room, 48 x 45 feet with a 32 x 28 extension for the fog signal equipment. Later a half story was added. A 16-foot square tower rising from the center of the building supports the lantern room and parapet, which housed a first-order Fresnel lens. The light shown 133 feet above the sea with a signature of a white flash every five seconds.

“After a total of 525 days of labor, the lighthouse was lit for the first time on January 21, 1881. Amazingly, the only construction death was the drowning of Trewavas.

“Soon the reputation of the lighthouse spread from coast to coast, not only known as an engineering triumph, but also as a challenging assignment for even the most stalwart keeper. Nicknamed "Terrible Tilly", it lived up to its name.

“Originally, a keeper assigned to the rock spent three months on and two weeks off. Four keepers were always on the rock. The assignment was changed to 42 days on 21 off, because conditions proved extremely harsh on both the physical and mental stability of the keepers.

“The cramped quarters, frequent storms, and fog with the ensuing blasting of the fog sirens, often caused tension among the crew. Enraged keepers were known to pass notes at dinnertime rather than speak to each other. Any keeper causing trouble or showing mental instability was immediately transferred from the rock. The newspapers loved the drama, and any dismissal raised their eyebrows. One reported that Keeper Bjorling was removed quickly from his post after trying to kill the headkeeper by putting ground glass in his food.

Photo from: Lighthouse Friends.com

“October 21, 1934 brought the worst tempest on record. The entire Pacific Northwest was inundated with a fierce and battering storm. No one felt it more than the four keepers at Terrible Tilly. The sea spewed boulders through the lantern room, smashing the Fresnel lens. Iron bolts anchored into the rock 3 feet deep were ripped out. Seawater flowed like a waterfall down the tower into the rotunda. Some areas of the lighthouse were neck high in water. All communication to the mainland was lost. The keepers worked feverishly in knee-deep water trying to set up an auxiliary light, but no light would shine that night.

"For only one night of the four-day storm were mariners left without the beacon. Heroically, the auxiliary light was beaming the second night. A makeshift short wave radio made contact with a ham radio operator in Seaside, and the world heard the keepers had survived. All were commended for their exceptional attention to duty through the most trying conditions.

”The Fresnel lens was never replaced.

“Terrible Tilly shone her light for 77 years before being replaced by a red whistle buoy, anchored one mile seaward of the rock. On September 1, 1957, Keeper Oswald Allik, who had served twenty years at the station, turned off the light, and penned the following final entry in the logbook, which today is on display at the Columbia River Maritime Museum in Astoria, Oregon:

     ““Farewell, Tillamook Rock Light Station. An era has ended. With this final entry, and not without sentiment, I return thee to the elements. You, one of the most notorious and yet fascinating of the sea-swept sentinels in the world; long the friend of the tempest-tossed mariner. Through howling gale, thick fog and driving rain your beacon has been a star of hope and your foghorn a voice of encouragement. May the elements of nature be kind to you. For 77 years you have beamed your light across desolate acres of ocean. Keepers have come and gone; men lived and died; but you were faithful to the end. May your sunset years be good years. Your purpose is now only a symbol, but the lives you have saved and the service you have rendered are worthy of the highest respect. A protector of life and property to all, may old-timers, newcomers and travelers along the way pause from the shore in memory of your humanitarian role.””

“Tillamook Lighthouse was purchased by five men from Las Vegas at a bid sale in 1959 for $5,600. Three of the men visited the lighthouse a few weeks after the purchase, but it is believed they never again set foot on the rock or funded any improvements. In 1973, George Hupman, a New York-based executive with General Electric, purchased the lighthouse from the Las Vegas combine for $11,000 partly to retain ties to Oregon, where his family had lived for two years in the late 1960s.

“The lighthouse was again sold in 1980 to Mimi Morissette and Cathy Riley, both real estate developers, and a group of investors for $50,0000. Under Morissette's direction, the structure was gutted and turned into the Eternity at Sea Columbarium. Interested parties could then have their ashes placed inside the lighthouse, with prices varying from $1,000 for a place in the derrick room to $5,000 for a prime spot in the lantern room. ““With an estimated capacity of a few hundred thousand remains, the lighthouse seemed to be not only a self-sustaining project but a profitable business opportunity.””

"The owners of the lighthouse lost their license to operate as a columbarium in 1999 when they were late with their renewal. In 2005, an application for a new license was rejected due to inaccurate record keeping and improper storage of urns. Addressing concerns that urns are not well protected, Morissette, whose parents are inurned at the lighthouse, said, ““People ask me what if a tsunami hits the lighthouse, and I tell every person their second choice better be to be buried at sea.””

“Eternity at Sea still plans to raise additional money and construct niches in titanium to store some 300,000 urns. To date, only about thirty urns have been placed in the lighthouse, and two of those were reported stolen by vandals in 1991.

“The ghostly looking structure, now with perhaps more than its own story to tell, is listed on the National Register of Historic Places.”

Here is another little tidbit from wikipedia:  

The wreck of the Lupatia

In early January of 1881, when the lighthouse was near completion, the barque Lupatia was sailing in thick fog and high winds when the ship's Captain noticed that they were too close to shore. Wheeler, the official in charge of the lighthouse's construction, heard the voices of the panicked crew and immediately ordered his men to place lanterns in the tower, and light a bonfire to signal the ship that they were approximately 600 feet from the rock. The ship appeared to have been able to turn itself toward returning to sea, however quickly disappeared into the fog, and Wheeler was not able to hear the crew. The next day, the bodies of all 16 crew members were found washed up on shore of Tillamook Head. The only survivor of the wreck was the crew's dog.

Wikipedia's information came from the Cannon Beach Gazette.