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“On a clear day, you can see forever,” according to Robert Goulet’s melody. Truthfully though, even peering from the narrow catwalk 105 feet above sea level, you can only see to the horizon. But, just over that distant curved line is an unending gaze across thousands of miles of Pacific Ocean to the Far East.
Against the craggy shore below is vivid illustration of an irresistible force meeting an immovable object. Lennard Island is the first obstacle encountered by unfettered ocean swells, which rise to mountainous proportions over coastal shallows and explode around the island’s rocky perimeter.
Lennard Island Light Station, three nautical miles offshore from the west side of Vancouver Island, Canada, is in a wild, inhospitable site of treacherous shoals and tricky passages. Its mammoth beacon and mighty fog signal warn mariners of coastal dangers and show the way to Tofino’s shelter. It is one of 27 staffed light stations remaining on Canada’s West Coast, and is workplace and home to five souls facing the Pacific’s fury.
Inhabiting this isolated, windswept community, and vigilant over its continuous operation, are spouses Iain Colquhoun, Principal Keeper, and Kathy Doyle, Assistant Keeper—with their dog Coco and cockatiels Sammy and Scotty. Visitors are few and far between, the last being five months ago.
Lennard Island is a short ride in a fast lifeboat from Tofino Coast Guard Station —weather permitting. Getting ashore is athletic and sometimes wet. The lifeboat attempts to hold its bow against the shore, while passengers scramble over the gunwale and clamber endless stairs away from the briny surge. During some conditions you just can’t get there from here, and the lifeboat must deliver the weekly mail via a cable suspended across a narrow passage.
To reward the boat crew’s efforts, freshly baked cookies are often included in the light station’s outgoing mail bag.
Approaching Lennard Island in 15-foot swells provides a spectacle of white-water surges around myriad rocks and reefs. As the boat descends into a swell’s trough, house-size boulders burst the surface—mere boat lengths away—as if launched from the abyss to form new mountains. Seconds later the peaks are concealed by the next swell, in readiness for another display. Rarely is the sea flat. Even windless days experience 6-foot swells.
Doyle and Colquhoun have spent most of their years together in remote coastal locations. Before Coast Guard service as light keepers, they worked in British Columbia’s Forestry Service, where Iain skippered a patrol vessel in Jervis Inlet. In between jobs, they chartered their 1906-vintage wooden ketch Ivanhoe.
A satellite television dish has recently been added, but the main contact with the outside is via radio telephone link through the Coast Guard. Sometimes, mainstream life comes to them. During an election, the Coast Guard helicopter brought an official with advance poll ballots so the keepers could vote. “The pilot had to vouch for us so we could register,” says Colquhoun.
During off-duty hours Doyle is busy with gardening and crafts, while Colquhoun pursues woodworking and photography. Each claims to be a renowned bread baker. “A lot of keepers’ wives do crafts,” says Doyle. “One even began a mail order catalogue.”
They usually get off their island once a year for vacation. Depending on the weather, they leave by lifeboat or helicopter. According to Doyle, “Vacation means not having to get up before 3AM to commence the weather readings—and no alarm clock.”
The isolated lifestyle is not for everyone. “I don’t miss the shopping,” says Doyle. “But the place isn’t your own. If you lose your job at a light station you lose your home and your community too.” Full retirement is usually after about 35 years’ service, but a few Keepers stay on after normal retirement. “It takes some time to adjust to life outside,” says Colquhoun.
Lennard Island’s huge light is visible 21 miles seaward, and is so well balanced that it is rotated by a mere one-quarter horsepower electric motor. The way to the top is a tight spiral stairway inside the window-less tower, barely shoulder width. The outside catwalk gives an awesome panorama of trees and crashing surf. If you look closely to an adjacent islet, a bald eagle is gazing seaward, sentry-like, atop a rocky pinnacle above the spray.
Only one of the three island residences is occupied. In the old days, shifts were eight hours, so three keepers were needed. Since Doyle qualified as Assistant, and the shifts were lengthened, only she and Colquhoun are needed to tend the light. Safety is important. “We must work safe so there are no accidents requiring evacuation,” says Colquhoun.
A diesel generator powers the station, with another as back-up. “Essentially there is two of everything,” says Colquhoun. Some 225,000 gallons of fuel is consumed per year, delivered annually by a Coast Guard ship and barge, which anchor nearby and pump the fuel to the storage tanks ashore. The island’s water system is self-generating. Building roofs collect rainwater, and drain into a 90,000-gallon storage tank. “With our climate, there is no shortage of water,” says Colquhoun.
Despite its elevation, little of the island is not out of Neptune’s powerful reach. The winch shed’s seaward window, some 30 feet above sea level, was destroyed by a log flung through it during a storm. “It’s a common chore to clear logs from the helipad after storms,” says Doyle.
Unlike most place names in an unforgiving marine environment, Lennard Island venerates a fortunate event. Charles Edward Barrett-Lennard of the Thames Yacht Club (England) circumnavigated Vancouver Island aboard his yacht in 1860. Since the creation of Lennard Island Light Station in 1904, its dedicated keepers have endeavored to project good fortune to mariners in the face of the Pacific’s wrath.
This story appeared in the
February 2002 edition of Lighthouse Digest Magazine. The print edition contains more stories than our internet edition, and each story generally contains more photographs - often many more - in the print edition. For subscription information about the print edition, click here.
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