The Fisgard Lighthouse a National Historic Site as the USS Ronald Reagan sits anchored in the approach to Esquimalt Harbour near Victoria June 10, 2010.John Lehmann/Globe and Mail
Climbing a tight spiral of 37 steps to her cupola overlooking the eastern entrance to Juan de Fuca Strait, Meredith Dickman is rewarded with a 360-degree view unrivalled by the million-dollar waterfront homes in nearby Oak Bay.
From here, at the top of her lighthouse, Ms. Dickman keeps an eye on the massive cargo vessels, ferries, fish boats and kayakers that test the inconsistent waters of the strait.
She can be stranded for weeks at a time in rough weather. In the past year, Trial Island Lighthouse and its keeper have endured 73 days of gale-force or stronger winds. Even the dog, Malcolm, couldn't bear it. The foster dog was offered a free-roaming home on the island last year, but opted to swim a 400-meter-wide channel back to the city lights.
Her son, Alex Dickman, now 19, can empathize with Malcolm. For three of his teenaged years, he was home schooled on the island, and served for a time as the assistant lighthouse keeper. "There are so many amazing things - you'd walk out on the porch and there'd be a bald eagle sitting there," he said. "But it was isolating."
As Parks Canada celebrates, on Friday and Saturday, the 150th anniversary of B.C.'s first lighthouse - Fisgard Lighthouse, at the entrance to Esquimalt Harbour near Victoria - the future of the country's iconic navigational aid posts is in doubt. This week, the federal government declared nearly 1,000 lighthouses surplus. At the same time, a Senate committee is travelling the coasts to determine if the position of lighthouse keeper should be declared defunct.
The committee has yet to visit a station that is still staffed, and its vice-chair, Senator Dennis Patterson, stressed it is too early to reach any conclusions.
"These keepers are valued members of the coastal community," he said in an interview this week. "People who live and travel and work on the coast … speak of lighthouses with sentimental significance to communities. It's a comforting symbol in their lives.
"But is it a romantic notion superseded by technology? That's the very question we have to grapple with. The answer is certainly not clear right now."
Misery, little company
Alone much of the time, the keeper is nonetheless a comforting presence for mariners.
In the spring of 2009, Ms. Dickman observed the waters of the Strait transform from a gentle ripple into three-metre-high waves in a matter of minutes. With the winds gusting to 55 knots, she spotted a flash of light five kilometres out - from the mast of a capsized sailboat. Two sailors, clinging to the hull, had been unable to send off a distress call. Ms. Dickman called in the mayday and directed search-and-rescue crews. By the time that search was over, six vessels had been rescued from the sudden squall.
In many respects, the job hasn't changed for Canada's few remaining lighthouse keepers. There are only 50 staffed lighthouses left, many in the most remote and weather-beaten locations the East and West coasts can offer. It's lonely, self-reliant work that few are cut out for. Ms. Dickman is the island's electrician, mechanic, meteorologist and caretaker - not to mention medic for the occasional hypothermic kayaker she's fished from the tidal rip near her doorstep.
Still, the lighthouse keeper's life is not the harsh, bone-chilling job it once was. Compared to that of the first lighthouse keeper on Canada's West Coast, Ms. Dickman's lifestyle is relatively luxurious. She has WiFi and a telephone, central heating and regular grocery shopping trips.
The beacon itself - a green rotating marine lantern that turns itself off and on - requires little maintenance. It allows her more time for other duties, such as tending the island's ecological reserve, which includes rare plants - golden paintbrush, the delicate pink-and-yellow bird's foot trefoil, and rosy owl clover.
At Fisgard, the first beacon, the life of the first keeper, George Davies, was marked by privation and tragedy.
Mr. Davies arrived at his new home in 1860, at the still-unfinished Fisgard Lighthouse. He later took over the lighthouse at Race Rocks, where on Christmas Day, 1865, he stood helpless on the shore while a boatload of family and friends overturned. There was not one survivor.
When Mr. Davies first marched up the spiral staircase to light the wick on the oil lamp, the light demanded near-constant attention. He shared his duties with his wife Rosina in four-hour shifts. The cramped lantern - the room at the top of the lighthouse - was unheated, although he may at times have brought a bucket containing some burning coals for warmth.
"The more miserable it was, the more time you had to spend up there," noted lighthouse historian Dale Mumford.
Only a few hardy souls managed to make a career out of it in those early days. The logbooks and correspondence Mr. Mumford has gathered reveal complaints of lamp oil frozen solid in the bitter winters, rain pouring in around ill-fitted windows, and an employer too cheap to supply heating coal.
One keeper lasted just 12 days before he quit. One drowned in sight of the tower. Mr. Davies died at his station in 1866, just 35 years old, while his wife signalled, in vain, for medical assistance.
The light at Fisgard, now automated, still guides marine traffic around the hazards at the mouth of Esquimalt Harbour, home to a bustling naval base.
Last year, Ms. Dickman's post at Trial Island Lighthouse was slated for automation - or, to use the awkward vernacular of the Coast Guard, it was slated to be de-staffed. Her fate now rests with the Senate committee that is to determine if a solar-powered light alone is sufficient to keep mariners safe.
'Living history'
Steve Bergh and Alice Woods have spent 27 years working as lighthouse keepers, currently at Chatham Point on the east coast of Vancouver Island. They have pulled four people out of the water and stuck pumps in a lot of sinking boats, and their frequent weather reports can help keep the boating community out of trouble.
As a couple, they have raised their three boys at remote stations, and have lived in tight quarters so long, they finish each other's sentences. (Most lighthouse keepers are under a federal gag order, but as union executives, they can speak publicly.)
"It's nice to be removed from the noise and distraction of the city. Every day is different," Mr. Bergh said.
Ms. Woods loves the extreme weather, even though that comes with worry for those who may be at risk. The couple started out as commercial fishermen and are passionate about their role in the coastal community - not as romantic relics but as guardians watching over seafarers.
"This is living history," Ms. Woods said. "All those stories you read about, they continue to live."
Justine Hunter