The Not-So-Lonely Lighthouse

Almost every coastal vacation destination has a lighthouse where you can drive up, snap a few photos, and then drive on. The tall towers come in so many sizes, stripes, and colors they demand a stop. But for some of us, a drive-by isn’t enough to satiate our curiosity about what it’s like to live in these iconic beacons. Luckily, several historic lighthouses have been transformed into inns where guests can find out for themselves.

My husband, Zack, and I had been anticipating a weekend away from the Twin Cities at a mysterious lighthouse full of quiet solitude, the only sound being the crashing of waves during a storm. Would there be electricity? I brought a candle in case there wasn’t. What about heat? Long johns and wool sweaters were in the backseat.

We arrived at The Lighthouse B & B in Two Harbors in the early evening when the small town was already getting sleepy. A gravel road led us to the rear of the lighthouse, which is an extension of the keeper’s house. Below the quietly buzzing, rotating light atop the lighthouse was a tiny space where I had envisioned us sleeping, but it had room for no more than a desk. On the floor below that were three bedrooms and a beautiful shared bathroom. Our room, the Keeper’s Room, came equipped with heating, blankets, and period lamps, plus quilts, slippers, robes, and even shampoo in a little corked bottle. It started to feel as if a Four Seasons hotel had imposed on my idea of roughing it.

Two Harbors’ Lighthouse, furnished in period antiques and replicas, is run by the Lake County Historical Society and differs in some substantial ways from a traditional B & B. With no staff on-site at most times, the guests, AKA assistant lighthouse keepers, are called on to keep the grounds clean, monitor the light rotation, and help out with a handful of other chores. Other guests showed us the ropes—everything from how to operate the light tower to making tea. They told us about our duties as assistant keepers, how to record our chores in the daily log, and how we’d be rewarded at breakfast.

The Keeper’s Room, though not ringed in glass, did have a window framing Lake Superior. Instead of the fall storm Zack and I had been waiting for, it was an unseasonably warm weekend, the kind where people look at you funny if you put on a hat and gloves. We dropped our coats and settled into the living room, playing checkers and reading before we retired. It was eerily quiet (creepy or peaceful, depending on your taste), and I started to wonder how former lighthouse keepers got by without company.

Bob Anderson, who’s on the board of the Historical Society, told me The Lighthouse was never all that empty, unlike the solitary Split Rock Lighthouse to its northeast. Former keepers could walk downtown and always had their families with them. At one time, the keeper had eleven children, filling the same three bedrooms there are now; the assistant keeper had his own bedroom; and the third keeper lived in town.

As Minnesota’s oldest operating lighthouse on Lake Superior’s North Shore, The Lighthouse has been guiding ore boats and small watercraft since 1892, transmitting the same light pattern—twenty seconds makes a full rotation—for 113 years. The U.S. Coast Guard took control of the operation in 1939, and the Historical Society leased the lighthouse from it in 1985. It took the proverbial act of Congress to transfer ownership to the Historical Society in 1999. Shortly after the legislation passed, renovation began and the B & B opened. “We had to figure out a way to keep the money coming in,” explains Anderson. “Before the B & B, the society was deeply in debt. I went to the East Coast, checking out quite a few other [lighthouses] that had been converted into B & Bs or museums.” Today The Lighthouse is so popular it’s often hard to get a room.

Before radar, three keepers took eight-hour shifts at the desk in the tower to record ships and weather reports while monitoring the lights. Prior to 1970, when 230,000–candle power electricity replaced 30,000– candle power kerosene, they also had to polish the lenses to remove soot, in addition to keeping wood in the boiler and making sure the foghorn was working. When the light was automated in 1970, human beings no longer had the arduous task of using ropes and weights to turn the beam.

“Big ships don’t need foghorns now—or light,” Anderson notes. Most lighthouses closed as radar advanced. However, some small ships don’t have the same technology, and skippers say it’s nice to see the light when they’re pulling into port.

The U.S. Coast Guard gave Two Harbors’ original Fresnel lens to the Great Lakes Historical Society in Vermilion, Ohio. According to Anderson, the GLHS would give the lens back if another could be found to replace it. “We need to get the original back here to display,” he says.

With electricity, heating, and automated lights, there wasn’t really much for us to do. We woke up early, but innkeeper Regina (who lives off-site) was there making coffee and didn’t need our help with breakfast. The outside trough was empty so we filled it with dried corn, and in no time deer were two feet away, digging in and staring blankly at us until we brought them seconds. Zack raised the American flag on the front lawn, and we relaxed in the Adirondack chairs with a cup of coffee.

The scene was postcard picturesque as the sun came up and ships sailed in. The red painted-brick lighthouse was brilliant against the blue sky. I was beginning to accept the sixty-degree day as we headed out for a walk along the shore. Back inside the cozy dining room, the Scandinavian breakfast began with a warm, spicy soup of dried berries, fruits, cinnamon, and whipped cream. Then came eggs, sausage, pecan scones, and strawberry jam.

We said goodbye to the other guests after we received certificates for completing our “duties.” I asked Tim Jost, a regular, if this visit was as good as his others. He smiled and said he’d call soon to make reservations for the next one. Whether  the  weather is stormy or unseasonably warm, the faithful keepers say they’ll return  to relax, “work,” and take home yet another certificate.