Visiting the neighbors

We were recruited to take our trusty bateau, the Trophy, to pick up two CLLS Board members who needed to do some work on our lighthouse neighbor’s dock. Canadian Lighthouses of Lake Superior is responsible for at least three island lighthouses: Porphyry Island, Trowbridge; and #10.

Most of the energy has been devoted to Porphyry. It has infrastructure, a lovely harbor, docks, mooring, and let’s not forget the sauna. But it was last occupied prior to CLLS’ involvement, in 1989. It had suffered years of vandalism and neglect before hearty crews of volunteers brought it back to where it is today.

Trowbridge was actually occupied during the season until at least 2006 and has not suffered the same degree of abuse but still needs lots of work. There is one floating dock and a cement pier. If I had my druthers, I would have stayed in bed because the seas were not to my liking but the captain said, “Let’s Go!’ I white knuckled the boat ride and at times kept my eyes closed so I couldn’t see what we were bouncing on.

The tower doesn’t have to be tall because the lighthouse is set atop a hill.

The door smiled welcomingly at us while we used the key to step inside. I think there were two ladders and we were greeted by a cozy little room off the lantern room, complete with a bed set to sleep in.

Although there is an auxiliary light, Trowbridge maintains its original Fresnel Lens, always a beauty.

That handle provides access to the bulb inside. One side of the lens is split in two and opens like a door. So clever.

The lighthouse helps mark the entrance to Thunder Bay and we got to see our first Laker ship heading in.

These steps led to a third small harbor, which reminded me of Italy’s Mediterranean grottos.

The keeper’s residence is very sweet, day lilies abound and the rooms are still decorated by the prior occupant. Lots of purple! We found an old stereo cabinet in the whistle house.

We got to tour the island while the workers, worked! Then it was another white knuckle trip back to Silver Islet and then onward to Porphyry, our island home away from home.

All in a day’s work

Our primary responsibilities for September were orienting visitors, keeping the sauna ready to fire up, and monitoring the solar system.

Guests were always appreciative and several groups arrived in their own boats and kayaks.

One day a family, who described themselves as teletubbies from North of Toronto, arrived on a 30′ Zodiac.

They wore bright orange dry suits and goggles for the ride from Thunder Bay. They were planning a trip to Europe but when international tensions rose, they decided to explore some of their own country. They were fun to talk with, thoroughly enjoyed the island and left with souvenirs from the gift shop.

The solar charging system was a bit of a challenge but started to work perfectly on our second to last day. Morning sun was obscured by trees so we would move them around during the day to catch the most sun. They powered two lithium ion batteries. We only needed power for the internet, phones and Tim’s keyboard. In the end, I think I found a loose connection which prevented it from charging even with full light.

Food prep always kept me busy. I made yogurt from powdered milk, bread, several desserts and most dinners. Several bars of chocolate also satisfied our sweet teeth.

We initially had a mouse and fly problem. I built the classic spackle bucket with a spinning can trap and reduced the population. This was replaced by snap traps from shore, which was easier to “load and unload”.

Best of all was riding the bikes to and fro and enjoying the breathtaking views.

Morning light was especially bright.

And the Sleeping Giant off to the west felt like our protector.

Tuned in to weather

Whenever we’re stationed on an island, we follow the weather, sometimes obsessively. This is especially true when we rely on a small boat to cross a large body of water. And Lake Superior is a large body of water. It is the largest lake in the world by surface area and could cover the entire continents of North and South America with a foot of water! At its deepest, it is 1,333 feet deep!

We gather the apps the local boaters use. For our stay on Porphyry, those included WeatherCan marine forecasts, Windy and weather.com. We looked at projected wind force, direction and wave heights. Normally we would just stay ashore but we had to get Tim to Public Health.

In Australia, we relied on Willy Weather, which provided clear graphics of the wind and waves. In the States, we have relied on NOAA and weather.com but they seem to be a little less reliable these days.

More importantly, we judged the wind at Porphyry Point and listened to and looked at the surf. Especially on days we needed to go ashore. One night, after a very quiet evening, I woke at 0300 to the sound of waves crashing in the east shore. That kept me up for a while because we needed to go ashore. We appreciated the effect wind alone has on creating waves.

Here’s a photo of a Michigan Lighthouse on Lake Superior.

And below are waves breaking at Porphyry Island.

Strong winds tended to come from the northwest. They were cold and played havoc with the propane fridge, which is located on that side of the residence without a windbreak. Tim tried various baffles on the exhaust pipes, but the flame would not light until the wind settled down and shifted. We got ice the next day off island. On a side note, think about this: The fridge needed a flame to stay cold! We wore through a battery on the piezo switch trying to light it. Here is a link to propane refrigerators 101, generally a great appliance for off grid living. If you have a propane fridge and a sauna and you are golden.

I much preferred the calm days to go boating. Here’s the view looking down the west side of the island. You can barely see the tower near the point.

After the storm, Tim did yoga on the helipad to the sunset, Sleeping Giant, and the moon rising.

A gentle end to a windy day.

The many faces of Seguin

All beautiful. Seguin always delivers. A little rain, fog, the foghorn, great trails, monarch migration, some visitors but then a week without another person (except Tim of course), nightly cricket invasions, clouds, sunsets, waves, the view of Mt. Washington, ships, near and far, lighthouses along the shore, rocks, spider webs, good food, at least one mink this year, bald eagles, the prism rainbow, but no rainbows this trip, the weather was too nice. Feeling on top of the world.

Mt Washington in the distance

All in a day

Never too old to learn new tricks. We have a problem with the tractor engine, please don’t ask, and it was decided we should remove it from the tractor snd take it off island. We, meaning the Royal We.

I was up to my elbows in grease – no wonder all those you tube mechanics wear black vinyl gloves – when Tim came down to the Whistle House, to check my progress.

So I stopped for the day, cleaned up a little and made salmon cakes.

Yesterday, I went back at it and set it free. The task itself was straightforward, but access to nuts and bolts was ridiculously hard. Now we just have to figure out how to get it down the quarter mile hill, onto the beach, into the dinghy for its ride home.

After I finished, I made a batch of scones and a loaf of bread with somewhat clean hands.

Tomorrow is closing day, our last day on island, which will be a flurry of activity, after no visitors for a week due to windy, wonderful lighthouse weather.

And while here, I finished knitting a baby bonnet in silk/wool, which I spun while at Bass Harbor Head Lighthouse, a pair of mittens and started a hat. All in a day’s work.

Flotsam and jetsom

It’s been windy here on this offshore island. Seas are big, waves are crashing in the cove and we had a super, high tide, with the full moon and a north wind.

Bottom line, no visitors for a few days and lots of debris and seaweed in the cove.

We had to haul the dinghy up to higher ground. Our next few dinghy trips should be interesting. Not today though. Small craft warning persists.

Land snails seem happy enough, until I hear one accidentally crunch underfoot.

Nothing can keep a beautiful sunset down.

Not even a seagull photobombing me.

Summer squeeze

So much to do before the end of summer: finish swimming my gps alphabet; canoe camping at Great Camp Santanoni; train to climb a big hill with stuff.

The hill starts today. We’re hiking Rooster Comb, with friends but no gear. I will hopefully get to swim an “R and S” after our hike.

We’re getting ready to return to Seguin Island for a few weeks to help tuck it in for winter.

This is truly one of my favorite places in the world. We’ve helped out almost every year since 2008. I may know the 64 acre island better than my own little piece of paradise.

But to get there, we have to take a boat, then a dinghy to the beach, offload everything, then climb up another couple hundred feet to the top of the island, where the lighthouse is perched. I have knots in my stomach already even though Tim does most of the hauling while I unpack in the kitchen. I and/or some our stuff usually take a dunking as well.

Next weekend there are big goings in in our little town and we like to high tail it out of here. Tim arranged a horse drawn carriage to bring our kayaks four miles in to the great camp, where we will look for a nice camping spot- another of our favorite places.

Are these the dog days?

Back in business

Bass Harbor Head Lighthouse was dark for a month after a lightning storm zapped its LED bulb. I met the Coast Guard electrician who told me the bulb was sent to Australia for repair! Yet on my one of my final days as a keeper, four men in blue coveralls arrived in an unmarked truck. Much less dramatic than other locations where they arrived by helicopter.

Bulb repair

And just like that, we had a light again.

It was comforting to see it from my bedroom window once again.

I was very busy my last week, seeing the sites and packing up the house. Tim and I had visited all but one of the bridges on Acadia’s carriage roads. I made a final trip and saw the last of the lot, the Cliffside Bridge.

As its name implies, it is built into the side of a cliff. I couldn’t be sure it even crossed a stream.

Cobblestone bridge is the first carriage road bridge built and the only one made with cobblestones, not granite. It sits just outside the Park and is my personal favorite. I liked it so much, I crossed it on three occasions.

The second time was with Tim when we came upon this whimsical tree carving.

Complete with stick figures and a porcupine or beaver.

Then I cleaned house, packed up the dishes and linens for the NPS and gathered my pantry, projects and clothes and headed home.

I loved living on the sea’s edge with waves crashing beneath my windows but, ” There’s no place like home “. (Have I mentioned I played the good witch, Glenda, in fourth grade).

Don’t scare a frog

I just went up to the garage to take out the garbage. On my way up, I felt a squirt of water and saw an animal – hop – away. At first I thought it was a mouse, because we have had our share of them, but the “hopping” should have given it away. Apparently frogs pee on you, or any predator, when they are afraid. Only one foot and its croc was wet, no odor but yuck. I’ve been slimed!

No such thing as paradise, here at the lighthouse.

Time to explore

The bees around the lighthouse are busy pollinating the marigolds, beach roses and ragwort. My neighbor spotted a few bees at my hive. I suspect they are merely robbers but time will tell.

We took the Maine DOT ferry to Swans Island last week with bikes and had a grand time despite all the hills. One stop was the Burnt Coat Harbor Lighthouse. It shows what a community working together can accomplish. From about 2007 to now, they restored it to its current, pristine state. Well worth the stop.

After another hike, we drove Acadia’s Park Loop Road. We saw first hand some of the parking issues elsewhere in the park. There was a mile long line of cars parked alongside the popular Sand Beach.

We found some quiet spots anyway – not at Sand Beach

As summer rolls by, many beautiful boats pass the lighthouse.

They make us wonder, for a moment, if we would like another boat, besides Sparky.

Just for a moment.

The hammock offers a peaceful retreat from the crowds. There is usually a breeze and it rocks me right to sleep.

While the sunset is beautiful, we discovered you can’t actually see the sun sink below the horizon from the rocks, in summer. It’s a winter spectacle when it sets further south.