Cape Meares Lighthouse.

 

Cape Meares Lighthouse.

A story for a light pastime. 

With pictures!!

(This is the second story. You can find the first one here: https://leonak1.blogspot.com/2025/09/blog-post_13.html)

Seriously, you wouldn't travel all the way to the coast just to see a tree, would you? While a tree is nice to see (and remembering the hour-and-a-half drive), you'd want to add something else to your "to-see" list. Especially when there is something else, and it's right nearby. My eternal habit is to start with the main point, without introductions or explanations, which is just plain wrong!

My daughter drove me to Cape Meares State Park, not far from the small town of Tillamook, famous for its factory (which we drove past too quickly to photograph) that produces cheese sold in many stores across all fifty states. And besides cheese, they also make high-quality butter, yogurt, and cream... all from a factory that wasn't particularly large, even though we passed it in a minute. Along the coast from Tillamook runs a scenic highway, a forty-kilometer stretch of which is called the "Three Capes Scenic Loop."

Cape Meares is the first of the three capes. Not only are famous Sitka spruces growing there, but there is also a lighthouse.

And that's where we're going today.

(Wait. The original story is written in Russian. Did you read "Sitka"? Do you want to try reading the name of the tree in Russian? "Ситхинская ель." Ok, ok, I will use latin letters: "Sithinskaja yel'." Did you read it? Are you sure? Or are you trying to fool me, an old schoolteacher? I repeated the name of that spruce in the last story for a reason! So many times! I had a purpose, but for myself, first and foremost: to memorize and train my brain on an unusual sound combination. Your brain needs exercise, too, or it will get lazy! So read it again: Sit-ka Spruce! Sit- hin - ska - ja  Yel'!  

And don't you dare think about deceiving an experienced teacher!)

On the cape, there is a surprisingly graceful coniferous forest (not counting that octopus tree... though it, too, is graceful, just with many trunks).

It's wonderful to walk along the coast.

The views that opened up through the gaps in the trees were initially the same as at the famous tree—the same stone rock formations and crags, one of which is shaped like an arch...

...and then on to the ocean.

It was a sunny, pleasant day with a breeze from the ocean—the most wonderful weather for a walk.

And, unexpectedly for me, around one of the bends, a view of the lighthouse opened up.

No, it's very small, so it's more of a "mini-lighthouse." I didn't quite capture my first impression. The view opened onto a small house with a large lantern—the coastal lighthouse. That's probably more accurate.

To my surprise, about ten of us tourists had gathered around it. Most were waiting for a tour of the lighthouse. I didn't want to wait, and it would have been wrong to make my daughter and her husband wait for me for an hour, doing nothing. I can always supplement my knowledge from the internet. I had read about this lighthouse before. 

(I once had a wild idea to drive the entire coast from Los Angeles to Portland, stopping in all the small towns to see and photograph all the lighthouses. The idea wasn't entirely mine; it was inspired by someone online who had already done it and posted some wonderful photos. It’s possible to do, but difficult.) 

So now, as always, here is some "food for thought"... (I'm starting to repeat myself.)

The lighthouse is located on Cape Meares, near the town of Tillamook, on the Pacific coast of Oregon. It is part of the Cape Meares State Scenic Viewpoint and Wildlife Refuge. It is one of the smallest lighthouses in Oregon. It has an unusual octagonal shape and is made of cast-iron plates.

Inside, you can see the original first-order Fresnel lens, which was very powerful for its time and weighed about two and a half tons.

The lighthouse was built in 1890. It served as an important landmark for ships passing the dangerous coast of Oregon. The 1890 lighthouse operated on a very complex and precise system that required the constant presence of keepers. By the end of the 19th century, lighthouses no longer used simple bonfires or coal. (Oh, so before that, they had to constantly keep a bonfire going in the lighthouses? First chop wood, and then—progress!—burn coal?) The main light source was kerosene lamps. (Well, that's a lot easier! Of course! Oh, there's no need for irony here...) These lamps had wicks that burned, creating a bright and stable light.

To increase the brightness, multiple wicks were often used, and the fuel was high-quality kerosene. (This meant the lighthouse keeper had to constantly trim the burnt wicks. Constantly. Day and night. I still remember kerosene lamps from my childhood. Can you imagine how old I am?!)

The most important element of the Cape Meares lighthouse was its first-order lens (and there were many "orders"), which meant it was very large and powerful.

There are only thirty-nine of these lenses remaining in all the states today. This lens consisted of a central magnifying part and a series of concentric rings (prisms) around it that "bent" the light, directing it in the desired direction. To prevent the lighthouse from shining in one spot constantly and to give it a unique "light signature" (which allowed sailors to identify exactly which lighthouse they were seeing), the lens rotated. The rotation mechanism was like a clock. It consisted of a giant pendulum and a system of gears. The lighthouse keeper had to manually wind this mechanism every few hours. (So, in addition to trimming the wicks every few hours, they also had to manually wind the mechanisms...) A weight, dropping down a shaft in the center of the tower, drove the gears, which in turn rotated the platform with the lens.

(I don't have any more photos of the lighthouse, so I'll show you the surrounding sea views, since I promised you a story with pictures.)

To reduce friction, lighthouses of that time (including some built in the late 19th century) used mercury baths in which the lens "floated." The mercury baths were open. From an engineering standpoint, it was a brilliant solution. From a human standpoint? The mercury baths were cleaned by hand; the mercury slowly... imperceptibly... without a smell... evaporated. It's no surprise that keepers suffered from memory loss, tremors, mood swings, chronic kidney disease, hallucinations, and mental disorders. There is a legend about "lighthouse keeper madness," based on several real stories about keepers. People used to explain this with loneliness and isolation.

But those mercury baths allowed the heavy structure to rotate with minimal effort.

(Trimmed the wicks, manually wound the mechanism, cleaned the mercury bath, cleaned the lens glass—and keepers wore soft aprons so as not to scratch the lenses while working with them. Oh, I forgot, the kerosene for such lighthouses had to be additionally purified, strained, again, by hand...)

Let me try to summarize: keepers had to light and extinguish the lamp at specific times, make sure the fuel (kerosene) didn't run out, clean the kerosene, trim the wicks, wind the rotation mechanism, clean the lens and all the equipment, and, in case of fog, turn on the foghorn or siren, which ran on compressors or steam engines... Did I forget anything? Oh, yes, they also had to keep a log of observations.

Would you want to be a lighthouse keeper?!

The lighthouse was automated in 1963. Only in 1963! That was already my lifetime!

(By the way, automated in 1963, it was decommissioned in 1968 when it was replaced by an automatic light beacon located nearby. This new lighthouse operated until June 25, 2014, when it, too, was turned off because modern navigation technologies made it obsolete. And all this happened within my lifetime: from the work of lighthouse keepers to the complete disappearance of those lighthouses... I don't know how to feel about this, whether to be sad or happy.)

I'm looking for information on what could have motivated a normal, strong, able-bodied man to choose the job of a lighthouse keeper. (They wouldn't have hired a weak, abnormal, or non-working person!)

On this particular lighthouse, the keeper was not alone. When the lighthouse was operational, it was maintained by a small team. According to records, at the lighthouse's peak, a head keeper and two assistants worked there. The salary of a lighthouse keeper in the US in the late 19th century was quite modest, but it provided stability and some important "bonuses." On average, a lighthouse keeper's annual salary was between four and seven hundred dollars a year, although these figures could vary depending on the location and importance of the lighthouse. For example, in 1890, when the Cape Meares lighthouse was built, a keeper's salary at one of the lighthouses was five hundred and twenty dollars a year. For comparison, this was more than the average laborer but significantly less than a skilled professional or businessman.

The biggest advantage was a stable government job and free housing. (The internet says, "this was very important in those times." As if something has changed in our times...) Moreover, the housing was usually quite spacious. For example, here, at the Cape Meares lighthouse, two seven-room houses were built on the hill for the keepers, which allowed them to raise families. Keepers also received free fuel and other supplies. Of course, the life of a lighthouse keeper's family was unique and often isolated. There was no wide paved road leading to the Cape Meares lighthouse, with towns and villages on the sides, with shops, schools, hospitals... (you name it). There was no road at all. Their "window to the world" was the ships passing by.

PASSING BY.

This means that children, as the same internet says, were isolated from social interaction and "received a home education from their parents." (Well, I spent my whole life working in the education system; I don't have much enthusiasm for the quality of school education, and I won't even mention home education. But school education, at least in my time, was an education. Unless you are the Queen of England and have millions, send your children to school. By the way, the royal children go to school! And even to a Montessori kindergarten. So follow the royal family—school for children. ...Well, when I get on the topic of school, I get carried away. My apologies.)

Let's get back to the lighthouse.

Life was very regulated by the lighthouse's operation. Forget about homeschooling; the whole family helped with the daily duties. The keeper and his assistants had to be constantly ready, especially in bad weather. Their workday often lasted from dusk until dawn. The work involved constant risk: storms, fog, and equipment malfunctions could lead to dangerous situations, and life depended on the schedule of the tides... And wives still had to do the laundry, clean, cook, and feed everyone... The Lighthouse Service provided keepers with basic products like flour, dried meat, canned goods, and grains. But they had to grow their own vegetable garden with potatoes, carrots, cabbage, and peas, and it was also uncertain whether the provisions would be delivered by ocean on time. Many keepers kept chickens, some had goats.

(Look at these mushrooms we found on the path.

What do you think, are they edible? No, doesn't look like it, with the little skirts on the stems. It's probably best not to touch them.)

Work stability is not bad, help with fuel and food is another plus, a decent salary goes into the basket of advantages... Oh, how could I forget! Free housing! Even in our time, that could be a decisive factor. Here's one more for motivation: keepers and their families felt they were part of an important government service, which helped them endure all the hardships and isolation more easily.

I don't know... I couldn't do it. From my home in the city, with shops, libraries, a TV, and the internet, I'm always drawn to go somewhere. And if you take all that away—and leave only home and work...

(Oh, a squirrel ran out onto the path... 

And not alone.)

After reading all of the above, would you want to become a lighthouse keeper? Would you take your family away from civilization?

Men! There's fishing here! You can also set crab traps; the Oregon coast is famous for Dungeness crabs. 

(Read it, read it, exercise your brain! Dun-ge-ness crab. How about Russian: Дандженесский краб. Dan-dzhe-nyes- skij krab! Ok, you can skip it, I am tired too! Skip for this time. ) 

You can gather oysters and mussels during low tide...

I'm trying to joke, but I'm also thinking about how difficult it was to survive here. Especially for the women, the wives with children...

No, it's probably wonderful that the lighthouse was closed and is now just a tourist attraction. How nice it is to arrive by car (especially if someone else is driving you), enjoy the view, take about half a thousand photos in one day—and return to "civilization"...

Although no, expect another story tomorrow, because we aren't going home yet...