❖ HISTORIC SMITH ISLAND LIGHT ❖

Smith Island Lighthouse
Photo by Bernie McNeil
Published by Smith-Western, Tacoma, WA.
Card from the archives of the S.P.H.S.©

"Automation has robbed Washington's island lighthouses of the aura of adventure that was once associated with living at these isolated stations. The Smith Island light has been extremely familiar to boaters and seamen passing through the Strait of Juan de Fuca. It is the third oldest lighthouse site in the entire Puget Sound area. Only Tatoosh and Dungeness preceded it.
      Because Smith Is is composed of sand and clay instead of hard rock, its story is different from the others; today's light is not the original one erected in 1858. An aid to navigation was essential at this location, where Rosario Strait meets Juan de Fuca, but the currents had a tendency to erode the bluff on which the tower must stand. Looking into the future, the builders carefully constructed it 200 ft from the edge and believed that the structure would be safe. 
      The old tower was built of white-washed brick and the lower portion was wide enough to accommodate the keeper's living quarters. At first, a lone man was assigned to the post and he brought his family along. Thus Mr. and Mrs. John Vail and their grandchild were the initial inhabitants of the island.
      In that day wandering Indians from [Haida Gwaii] were a menace to remote outposts near the water and it was considered advisable to provide a fort in which the lightkeeper might take refuge. Accordingly, a blockhouse and a barn were built close by the tower. If the lighthouse had been provided with metal doors and window shutters instead of wooden ones this protection would have have been needed. 
      The tower went up through the center of the house and the top of the revolving lantern was painted red. The light was first shown on 18 October 1858.
      For six months the Vails, who had been joined by Mr. Applegate, an assistant keeper, enjoyed a placid existence. The housewife amused herself gathering marine curiosities and observing the bird colonies. So many sea pigeons nested on the island that whites and Indians came there to hunt the birds with hooked sticks, dragging them out of the holes in which they burrowed.
      Then one day in May 1859, five large canoe-loads of Haida Indians pulled ashore,

❖ Light of our Life ❖ ❖ POINT WILSON

Point Wilson Light Station, 1907
The top postcard is signed by author,
James G. McCurdy.
Postcards from the archives of S.P.H.S.©

"The Olympic Peninsula terminates upon the east in a long sickle-shaped promontory, which jutting far out from its base, holds back the turbulent waters of the Strait of Juan de Fuca, with its outer, rugged shore line, while protecting the narrow expanse of Puget Sound to the southward, within it's sheltering arm. Every mariner entering or leaving Puget Sound has to take Point Wilson into his reckoning if he does not wish to leave his vessel stranded upon it's sandy shores. In clear weather it is an easy matter to give it a wide berth, but in a dense fog––that is another matter.

      For over thirty years seafarers had been navigating their vessels past this obstacle without a lighthouse or a fog signal to aid them. But in 1879 as a result of continued pressure, the lighthouse department erected a beacon at the tip of Point Wilson with a deep-toned whistle to assist in keeping vessels at a safe distance. The first keeper at Point Wilson station was David Littlefield, a Civil War veteran who had arrived at Pt. Townsend at an early date and married Maria, the oldest daughter of the pioneer L. B. Hastings. The couple raised a large family and were residents throughout their long lives. 

Marrowstone Light Station
Original photo from the archives of the S. P. H. S.©

      A lighthouse and fog-signal were established at Marrowstone Point in 1888 to help out the situation, and today if a vessel takes to the beach at the entrance to the Sound, it will not be the fault of the government, but rather that of the person in command of the ship."

Text from By Juan de Fuca's Strait by James G. McCurdy. Binford's and Mort, 1937.      

❖ POLE PASS LIGHT ❖ Orcas Island 1949

Kirk McLachlan 

at Pole Pass Light.

Orcas Island, summer of 1949.
Original photo from the archives of the S. P. H. S.©

"Back in 1907, when Stanley Steamers were replacing the horse and buggy on the streets of Seattle and just a year after the San Francisco earthquake disaster, Kirk McLachlan took charge of the Pole Pass light on Orcas Is., in the San Juan group. In the spring of 1949, 42 years later, he retired from his job when the USCG installed battery-operated lights which a tender will serve.
      For the past 12 years he also has kept another light going in Wasp Pass, which is about a quarter of a mile away and accessible only by water. His job of tending the lights which warn passing boats of the treacherous rocks in the passes has not been easy. Seafaring men know that tides in the San Juans can run extremely fast. Often, one person, rowing can't buck them. Winter storms, which toss 50-ft logs high on the rocks, make rowing and tending a light difficult.
      'A few times the Wasp Pass light blew out on me when the wind was especially strong, and no matter how bad the weather, I'd have to go out and try and light 'er again. Those were about the worst times I had, 'cause I can't swim more than a few strokes. And there were a lot of times when I thought I might be swimmin'. I've rowed out in rough water and had to return home because the waves were bouncing me around so that I couldn't secure my boat. Every time that would happen, I'd have to wait for low tide, where I could row in on the lee of the rocks.'
      Although the kerosene lights would stay lit eight days, McLachlan refilled them every five. To avoid refilling in foul weather, he always has kept a weather eye on the barometer hanging on the front porch of his house, which is about 30 yards from Pole Pass. 'I'd fill 'em up when the barometer dropped bad, and then just watch that they didn't blow out.'
      McLachlan now is retired as far as the Coast Guard is concerned (at two-thirds pay), but he continues to work from 7 in the morning until it is too dark to see at night. As caretaker for a summer estate on Crane Is, just a stone's throw across Pole Pass, he pumps water for the livestock and keeps the place shipshape. He also repairs his own house, dock, four rowboats, a small launch, and four cabins. McLachlan rents out the cabins to hunters and fishermen in the winter and vacationists in the summer. He built the cabins in the 20s out of boards sawed from logs he towed to the mill at West Sound.
      Life for Kirk isn't quite as bleak as it might be for a man in his position. He has friends. Occasionally he swaps yarns or island gossip with them at the Deer Harbor store. Once in a while, he gets together with them at the Saturday night dances at Norton's dance hall. Everybody likes Kirk because no matter how much he has to do, he will make time for a talk. Rolling a cigarette, he'll squint an eye, push back his cap and chat about almost anything.

Pole Pass Light
Undated Jacobsen postcards
from the archives of the S. P. H. S. ©

      If you stopped at his place today [1949] he'd likely tell you about the fish that Old Man Jones caught or about the blackfish. 'It was a moonlight winter night, I think in 1945. I heard a thundering sound like bombs going off. I got up and looked out in the pass. There were blackfish––500 of 'em, averaging about 40-ft long. They were jumping clear out of the water, and when they came down they would whack their tails, and make a terrible racket. There were blackfish as far as I could see on both sides of the pass. I figure the school was about 3 miles long, easy.'
      Kirk isn't the first McLachlan to play an important role on Orcas. Both his father and grandfather were prominent on the island. His grandfather was one of Orcas' first settlers. He moved to this island in the wilds of Washington Territory in 1878 and had his family brought around Cape Horn to live with him. He started the light at Pole Pass in 1888. When he died three years later, Kirk's father took over. He kept it up until his death in 1907 when Kirk began his vigil at the age of 20.
      Kirk was born in 1887. He wasn't born on the island, however for the simple reason that there were no doctors around at that time. His mother was taken to Victoria, where Kirk was born. He went to a very small school at Deer Harbor, 2 miles from Pole Pass. At that time half the pupils were Indians. He was brought up with his brother, Bill, and sister, Jean.
      While the children were young, their mother died. The story of her funeral shows the hardships people in those days took in stride. The McLachlan family-owned grave plots on San Juan Island near Friday Harbor, about 7 miles from home. Friends of Mrs. McLachlan took the day off. They formed a funeral procession of about 20 rowboats and rowed to Friday Harbor.
     In 1913, McLachlan was married but didn't settle down completely. The next few years saw him captaining boats that ran through the islands. From then until 1937, he spent much of his time on boats and in canneries. In 1937, he let his skipper's license lapse.
     McLachlan is rightfully proud of the record his family has maintained in taking care of the Pole Pass light for 61 years. However, retiring from the job will change him little. He'll still set down his wheelbarrow when he sees you, roll a cigarette, push back his cap and squint one eye, and say, 'You know, back in 1903, when Indians were still roving these islands..."
Above words by Warren Kraft, Jr.
For The Seattle Times, 1949.
   

❖ "Light on the Island" ❖ by Helene Glidden, a Northwest classic from 1951

Chart from The Light on the Island by Helene Glidden,
Coward-McCann, Inc., New York, 1951.

"If ever a book was calculated to recite the wonders of living in the San Juan Islands it is The Light on the Island, quite a different volume from any other yet written about the group. It is confined to one of the least visited spots, Patos Island, the farthest American outpost on Georgia Strait.
      Helene Glidden, former Seattle resident, was the author and the child, Angie, in this story of a lightkeeper's family, who went to the island in the early part of the 20th c. when communication with the mainland at first was only by rowboat. Four of the thirteen La Brege children died there. The others had many narrow escapes from death.
      Patos Island at that period afforded many adventures no longer possible. For instance the children trapped enough river otter so that Mama and several of the others had fur coats.  
      It was from the Indians that the small La Brege children learned to gather and eat giant, red, sea urchins. The children collected beautiful agates, shells, and birds' eggs. They harvested kelp for Father's garden. Once the mother was dragged into a boat by a stranded octopus, another time her sister Estelle was attacked by an eagle.
      Adventure follows adventure in quick succession, Angie drifts to sea in the island lifeboat, a fisherman takes pot shots at the youngsters, a bearded fugitive hides on the island, furnishing a mystery, and Theodore Roosevelt comes to pay a visit of several days.
      

Patos Island Light Station,
San Juan Archipelago, WA.
Undated, early photo from the S.P.H.S. ©

      The natural surroundings of the place supply some of the most enjoyable episodes. One wonders if it still is possible to find basket starfish at Patos, and if there are ever windy winter nights like the one when a flock of wild canaries got off course and struck the lighthouse tower. The children gathered several of the injured birds, dumped them in the woodshed and barn, fed and nursed them for two days, until the hardiest ones took off again in favorable weather.
      Was there ever another seal like 'Paddy', one of a pair the children befriended? Paddy became so troublesome tagging the family around the house, hanging onto skirts and whining that he was taken out in the channel periodically and dumped overboard. Each time he came home and each time he was carried further away. Finally Mother put him on board a lighthouse tender bound for Astoria. A month later Paddy returned. When Mother announced she was going to have a nervous breakdown if something wasn't done with that seal Father took Paddy down to the water's edge. There was a shot and Paddy never bothered Mama again. The children after that were ordered to stay away from the seal rocks.
      The book has the humor of Life with Father and I Remember Mama, with a dash of salt thrown in. It's a real San Juan family album."
Seattle Times, October 1951
Glidden, Helene Durgan. The Light on the Island; New York, published by Coward-McCann, Inc., 1951.
A 50th anniversary edition, with photos added, was published by San Juan Publishing in 2001.
The three undated photographs below were provided for a Historical Museum exhibit in San Juan County, courtesy of the US Coast Guard Museum NW,  in the 1990s. Oceans of thanks to Capt. Gene Davis.