I have a confession.

I have never understood the appeal of lighthouses. Apparently they are romantic, or picturesque. Or something. People come from miles inland to look at them, take pictures of them, and buy souvenirs of them. The image of the lonely lighthouse-keeper is, I suppose, evocative of a maritime past in the same way as is a tall-masted ship. The heartbeat-like pulse of light shining through the darkness to guide sailors to safety does have a certain symbolic power. And of course there are those who obsess over lenses and lights the same way others are drawn to engines and trains. For my part, I’ve never been moved by any of these things, so when I caught the bus out to Lighthouse Park to see the Point Atkinson Lighthouse, it was more to look at the forest than the light.

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