The weather is fine as we leave Halifax for the 27-mile drive west to Peggy's Cove. But we are only about 10 miles down the road when wisps of fog begin stretching across the highway. And the farther we go, the thicker the stuff gets.
By the time we arrive at the little fishing village situated on a rocky outcropping overlooking the bay, we can barely see outlines of little houses that rise above the cove. An icy wind is crashing waves onto the granite boulders and slabs that slope down to the shore and nearly blows us over as we make our way to the overlook.The fog, the fierce wind, the balmy afternoon we had left behind only a short time ago make us wonder if we have in fact wandered into a twilight zone instead of the site of one of the most famous lighthouses in Nova Scotia. But even through the fog, we can see the welcoming light.
There would have been better days to see Peggy's Cove, perhaps, but hardly a better way to understand why lighthouses were and are an essential part of life by the sea. That green beacon visible through the gray shrouds has guided, directed and kept from harm many a sailor tossed about by these seas.
Peggy's Cove, one of those quintessential fishing villages common to Nova Scotia, is perched tenuously on the rocks that look out over St. Margaret's Bay. Here, past and present come together just as do the sea and stone. Ocean pounds away at land as it has for centuries; fishermen eke out a livelihood as they have for generations. And watching over it all is the elegant octagonal sentinel.
Built in 1916, the present-day lighthouse at Peggy's Cove is now fully automated. Because a caretaker no longer lives in the tower, it is now used as the post office for the little town. But the light still reaches out to guide the lobstermen and fishermen who work the waters year round. Fog and storm, as we found out, can come quickly at any time.
And as we huddle against the wind, as we look out at the angry waves and peer down at the shoreline so dimly defined in the fog, we find it easy to see why lighthouses have come to be such symbols of strength and light.
Lighthouse lore
The idea of lighthouses goes back to ancient times. The 450-foot tower of light at Alexandria, after all, was considered one of the seven Wonders of the Ancient World. It was used for a thousand years or so before being destroyed, perhaps by an earthquake. And, as you might expect, lighthouses came early to the Maritime Provinces of Canada. The first lighthouse was built by the French on Nova Scotia's Cape Breton Island in 1736. As sea traffic to and from Canada increased and as more settlers realized that fishing was a key to survival in this harsh new land, more and more of the towers were built.
Because of the rugged and rocky coastline, most of the lighthouse sites are well above sea level. Thus lighthouses in the Maritimes are not particularly tall. They are mostly made of wood, because wood was a plentiful and inexpensive resource, although some bricks and stones were also used. Both free-standing towers and towers attached to dwellings were built, and shapes varied from octagonal to round to square and even to pyramids. This diversity of shape and form raises lighthouse-watching to a fine art. Lighthouse routes, lighthouse tours, even lighthouse-watcher certificates cater to a growing number of visitors drawn to these sentinels of the sea.
Each of the Maritime provinces offers a variety of lighthouse lore. One of the most popular in New Brunswick is East Quoddy Head (the name alone's so fun) lighthouse on Campobello Island. In St. John, the Three Sisters guide ships to this entrance of the Bay of Fundy. In Nova Scotia, in addition to Peggy's Cove, so many lighthouses dot the southern shore between Halifax and Yarmouth that this scenic, winding, four-hour drive is known as the Lighthouse Route.
But the shorter distances, coupled with the fact that about 40 lighthouses (20 of which are very accessible) ring the island, mean that lighthouse-watching is particularly good on Prince Edward Island. PEI, as the natives call it, has both first- and second-generation lighthouses. The first-generation lighthouses are those built before 1873 and are generally octagon-shaped. Those built after 1873 are square and tapered.
This variety provides a good lesson in lighthouse technology. Early lighthouses were powered by fire and then by whale-oil and then kerosene lamps. In 1823, a Frenchman named Fresnel developed a special kind of lighting apparatus that refracted light through a system of lenses and prisms and increased the power of the light considerably. Fresnel lenses became the standard. Each light had its own series of signals and flashes to help seamen identify their location.
In the 1930s, many lights were converted to electricity. Modern technology, including the use of Fiberglas and metal, has led to the demise of some of the lighthouses, but PEI has made a concerted effort to preserve the old lighthouses and make them accessible to the public.
The Prince Edward Island Lighthouse Society, in particular, has tried to save not only the structures but the history and lore of the towers as well. The society has placed informational plaques on 15 of the most prominent lighthouses, and visitors who collect rubbings of eight of these plaques on a special activity sheet can get an official Lighthouse Lovers certificate.
Stories to tell
The lighthouse at Point Prim has a number of superlatives attached to its name. Not only is it the oldest lighthouse on PEI, it is also one of the tallest, reaching 60 feet into the sky. It is one of only two round towers built in all of Canada, and it is one of the few that is made of brick, although the brick has been covered by wood siding. Located at the entrance to Hillsborough Bay, at the outer approaches to Charlottetown Harbor on the southern side of the island, the lighthouse has been in service since 1846.
From the top, this time without fog to obscure the view, we have a gorgeous view of Northumberland Strait. It's a bit of a climb, but the view is worth it -- not only of the red, rocky shoreline, but also of the stands of forest and beyond those the neatly tended potato fields. And one of the things that stands out for us is how isolated this point is, how far away from anything and everything it would have been in those early days. In fact, we learn, when it was decided that a lighthouse should be built at Point Prim, the only way for officials and surveying crews to get to the point was by sleigh, across the fields from Charlottetown. And that was in April.
Tall, stately, with elegant and traditional lines -- Point Prim, we think, is exactly what a lighthouse should be. Of course, we think that about Wood Islands, too, and it looks nothing like Point Prim.
Built in 1876 at a cost of $5,000, the Wood Islands light is the second-oldest to be found on the island. It has a lovely wooden tower, 20-foot square and 54 feet high, built into the end of the lightkeeper's house. The Wood Islands tower watches over the passage between Prince Edward Island and Nova Scotia. The original light was a non-blinking vapor light that had to be lit by the keeper each evening. Electricity didn't come here until 1958, although in 1941 a fog horn was added to help guide ships across the strait. Keepers maintained the lighthouse until 1990, when full automation took over.
We find that every lighthouse on the island has a story to tell. Panmure Head, built in 1853, could talk of numerous shipwrecks off the southwest coast of the island. The last one occurred in 1943, when the Senora ran aground. Local fisherman removed a portion of the cargo and the ship was refloated at high tide. East Point lighthouse on the eastern end of PEI had to be moved, because its original position led ships astray. After the British Phoenix wrecked off the point in 1882, the lighthouse, which had been built in 1867, was moved 200 feet closer to the point. And due to erosion of the shoreline, it had to be moved again in 1908.
Most of the lighthouses in the Maritimes are painted red and white, but the West Point light has bold, black stripes. It was the first of the second-generation towers, built in 1875 at a cost of $4,459.59. The light at Covehead Harbor on the other side of the island also tells tales of the treachery of sea-life. A plaque on the light tells of the Yankee Gale, a fierce storm in 1851 that claimed the lives of a number of American sailors. And the nearby Stanhope Cemetery contains the graves of many drowned seamen.
And so it goes. And with each lighthouse, we find a renewed appreciation for seafaring life in these provinces and for the men and women who lived it. And we stop to ponder: Just what it is that makes lighthouses such a powerful image?
There's all that symbolism, of course, about the light shining through the dark, guiding those in trouble to safety.
There's that indelible connection to the romance and lore of days when tall ships, with masts unfurled, sailed the high seas.
But we especially like the notion put forth by one lighthouse aficionado who feels that they are, without question, one of the most concrete examples of man's willingness to help his fellow men. Why else build and staff them on these lonely points and rocky shores?
That's a notion to keep you warm in the coldest storm and through the dreariest fog.