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the years keep rolling by...”
Though the island looks almost as it did 30 years ago as I recall it and, as mentioned in the Intro to this site, it has always held an irresistable fantasy 'childrens's book' quality, in both appearance and situation.
The timeless pics on this page show some views and angles that are seldom seen, unless you have the belly to climb those 137 terrifying narrow steps to the top of the tower. I've been to the top a dozen times and from below it looks as effortless as poo from a goose, but ascend several steps and it's a hands and knees job. Make sure you don't look over, and if anyone is on their way down, make sure it is they who are either on the railing side or on top of you when passing. After the ordeal in reaching the summit, there is not only an overwhelming sense of serenity and achievement but the most staggering views (and a few empty crisp packets) to behold. Some helpful little brass plaques are provided on the sills of the latticed windows to illustrate on a clear day which power stations you can see in the distance.
I do not remember climbing up the lantern tower as a kid, apart from one time (with my dad and uncle)at around 1969-70. I'm not sure how that would've been allowed as the lighthouse was still in operation throughout the '70s and so it was probably not even open to the public. Or maybe sometimes it was. Or most likely I'm getting confused with some weird dream I had at the time.
There were and still are large deep rockpools on the island where you could sit for yonks and watch the big, monster black crabs scuttling around in the watery shade, blowing bubbles or maybe gobbling a starfish for lunch; they would have your arm off if you slipped and fell in. Or poking your finger into those blood red tomatoey things which I can neither spell nor pronounce, but they would get you back and squirt an accurate jet of salty water in your eye.
One of Nature's cruel jokes was that whenever it was time to go home for your tea, the tide would have sneaked in engulfing the causeway for several hours; so the only thing to do then was wade through up to the waist and onto the mainland for an hour's trek back home along the Promenade in soaking wet jeans that now weighed several tons, chafing your sandy boyhood (whilst somehow replenishing your inner man).
In olden days there was a small ferry service just for the purpose of, well, ferrying those who had been cut off by the tide and who didn't want to get their breeks all a-drookit. There was also once a tiny inn on the island where the influx of the tide was no doubt a frequent excuse to get another round of the bygone Um Bongos in. I think the little shop/café remains though it may have been embosomed by now by the custodians who care for today's super Visitor Centre. They've certainly got their guano together that lot!
Return To Brenda
These astonishing (but ©) photos
of the Lighthouse on show are
from a selection taken in 2007 by Whitley Bay-born Brenda Graham, who grew up on Bournemouth Gardens, but moved down to Reading in Berkshire after being tipped off that the Bingo prizes
down there were so much better. See Other Sites page for a link to more of Brenda's recent projects
and artsy gannins-on.
The Monolith
What is that concrete block which stands sentinel on the rocks at the south of the island? It's too big
and slippy to climb on top of. Is it
to warn boats? Or an homage to Who's Next or Stanley Kubrick's
2001? It can't be a memorial or
the council would have covered it
in soil or painted it black by now.
So what is it?
