On January 1,1857 the bark Desdemona entered the Columbia River, Captain Francis Williams commanding, without a pilot, and promptly ran aground on a shoal off Astoria, OR. At the time the shoal was not named, but after Captain Williams' vessel became stranded and was eventually a total loss (including cargo) it was forever more called Desdemona Sands. Captain Williams complained, to avail, that a navigational buoy was off position and the cause of his stranding.
Devils Island is the northernmost island on the western extremity of the Apostle Group and represents an important turning point for both east and westbound vessels coasting along Superior's southern shore. With the opening of the first lock at Sault Ste. Marie in 1855, maritime traffic along Lake Superior’s south shore increased dramatically. The importance placed on this new station was evidenced by the fact that the plans called for it be outfitted with a flashing third-order lens, an order of lens reserved for only the most critical aids to navigation on the Great Lakes.
The tiny islet which is the Dhu Heartach (also spelled Dubh Artach, pronounced "Doo Artacc") lies 15 miles southwest from the Isle of Mull, Scotland and is the furthest outcropping of a reef known as the Torren Rocks. Over the years, most mariners, knowing the danger of the Torren Reef and giving it a wide berth, found themselves snared by Dhu Heartach. A desolate group of rocks, Dhu Heartach lies 20 miles southeast of a similar rock called Skerryvore. The Dhu Heartach consists of the main rock, five detached tide-covered hummocks, and two small sunken rocks.
Cape Hatteras, North Carolina, is the elbow of an arm of low islands known as the "Outer Banks". This elbow pokes these barrier islands a good 25 miles into the Atlantic. Seven miles farther at sea are treacherous shifting underwater sand banks known as Diamond Shoals. In the days of sail the Diamond Shoals were one of the most feared spots of any ocean. The strong and wide Gulf Stream moving north at up to 4 knots from the Gulf of Mexico forced the south bound sailing ships to "go inside" or west of the stream to escape the current.
When a watch keeper at the Coast Guard radio-direction-finding station on bleak Unimak Island in the Aleutians reported for the midwatch on the last day of March in 1946, he looked forward to another dark, dull Aleutian night. Instead, it proved to be a death watch. At 1:30 a.m., a sustained earthquake rocked the headland known as Scotch Cap. The nervous watch keeper noted the event in the log and checked by radio telephone with his opposite number at Scotch Cap Lighthouse at the foot of the headland.
From the bow of the Marigold, John Soldenski silently watched his new home rise out of the lake as the lighthouse tender steadily forged through white-capped Lake Superior. At first he could see only the white shaft against the dark water. Gradually he could distinguish details of the circular tower, mounted on a great round base of concrete rising from the lake and surmounted by the housing of the great lens.
In 1853 Lieutenant A. M. Pennock, of the U,S, Lighthouse Board, filed a report on his survey of Chesapeake Bay. He commented that "a small light should be placed on Drum Point, inside of the Patuxent River." Work finally began on the lighthouse on July 17, 1883. The ten-inch-diameter, wrought-iron piles, made by the Allentown Rolling Mills of Philadelphia, were fitted with three foot wide auger flanges. Each of the piles were laboriously hand-bored into the bottom of the Patuxent River like giant screws.
When I was a child my father and mother told me, time and time again, about how they survived the great New England hurricane of 1938. Today, exactly 53 years later, those stories have left me with a legacy of hope. Octave and Emma Ponsart were lighthouse keepers at Dumpling Rock Lighthouse, "a rock in the ocean" as they used to call it, off Padanaram in South Dartmouth. Their story, never before told completely in print, began on that gray Wednesday, Sept. 21, 1938.
The Penobscot River originates deep in the forested wilderness of Maine and nearly splits the state in half. Early settlers found the river a ready-made highway to harvest the great wealth of timber in the region. In the period from 1832 to 1888, nearly 9 billion board feet went downriver to Bangor, making the city the "Lumber Port of the World" and later, the "Queen City." Nearly a hundred sawmills operating on the river cut the logs into standardized lengths which were then floated downriver to the falls where Bangor was built, then loaded aboard ships and sent around the world.
Most of the available lighthouse books contain some descriptions of the early lamps and other illumination equipment used in American lighthouses. Unfortunately, these descriptions are just that, a verbal description of objects that are very hard for the average reader to visualize. The goal of this article is to put some flesh on the bones and to give you, the reader, not only descriptions, but also photographs where possible and drawings when necessary of these early American forms of lighthouse illumination.