Thursday, August 16, 2007

Terrible Tilly

I am a fool for lighthouses. Naturally, I enjoy living in the Pacific Northwest, where there are so many of them. The one that intrigues me the most is Terrible Tilly, aka the Tillamook Head Lighthouse.

It has a gruesome and dramatic history (Tilly's history), and even though it's no longer an active lighthouse it still stands sentinel off Cannon Beach. I'm a little weirded out that it's now a columbarium (lovely name for "dump your ashes here"), as I can't help but wonder who the peculiar individual was who came up with that plan. Just in case you want to park your ashes there, check it out here:

Eternity at Sea

Anyway, I digress. I really wanted to see Terrible Tilly from as close an angle as possible, which would involve hiking. I should preface that statement by saying I do not have an athletic or outdoorsy-type bone in my body.

I was always incredibly relieved that I was the last to be chosen for any team at school, hoping I could spend my time on the bench reading, and my idea of camping out is a hotel that doesn't have a fridge in the room.

Nonetheless, I suddenly got this urge to climb up this wretchedly narrow forest path with sheer drop-offs to one side to get a good look at old Tilly. Wearing my plastic Payless sandals, no less.

The higher I climbed, and the deeper into the forest I went, the more determined I became. Even though I was hearing lilting running stream sounds, not ocean sounds, which made me doubt the sanity of my climb, I kept trudging.

Finally, I rounded a bend in the forest, and could hear booming ocean noises. Aha! Then there was a sign warning of cliffs, and falling rocks, and all of the things that I would not be within a mile (or ten) of in my normal state of mind. In my lunacy, all I could think of was that I must be close to the view I was seeking.

Then I rounded a corner at the top near some gawd-awful cliff-edge (fortunately, the view down was obscured by trees at that point), and I could see straight out. There were clouds, and sunlight, and sea, and yes, at last, the amazing and majestic Terrible Tilly.

That view was worth every gasp and blister it took to get up that hill.

13 comments:

Anonymous said...

I just want to tell you how much I enjoy reading your blogs...you definitely have a way with words :)

Although we probably don't have the same outlook on many things, I think we do on many, because we love where we live.

Keep writing, you have a talent!

Elleda Wilson said...

Thank you! And I appreciate your taking the time read the blogs and to comment.

Anonymous said...

I, too, enjoy your writing...

....and I could tell you a few stories about that lighthouse.
One being it's nearly 50 years to the day when I was roused from my bed shortly before midnight to stand witness as the great light went dark for the last time in it's life. September 1st, 1957.

Elleda Wilson said...

Thank you very much, I am glad you enjoy my writing.

How fortunate for you, but sad at the same time, that you were able to witness that part of Terrible Tilly's history.

I think it's one of the most interesting and compelling lighthouses I've come across. All lighthouses fascinate me, but this one really has an aura about it.

If there hadn't been people waiting for me at the bottom of the hill, I probably would have stared at it for an hour.

Uncle Walt said...

I always thought it would be cool to live in a lighthouse. Not as a keeper but turn an old, "out of date", decommissioned lighthouse into a home.

Then, a few years ago, I saw a program where (on the East Coast anyway) one could lease a decommissioned lighthouse for a few dollars a year and live in it. Unfortunately, the ones still available were a long commute from most jobs (except seasonal, tourist ones anyway).

Elleda Wilson said...

Lighthouses are beautiful to look at, but make notoriously bad places to live. The confinement, the isolation ... not conducive to serenity for most folks.

Anonymous said...

Back in the 1960s there stood a long abandoned old lighthouse near the former site of Flavel docks that was well hidden by upgrowth of alder and pine...it's interior was easily accessible for the adventurous and it was a favorite trysting place for young people as well as a cool secure place to share some smokable herb and soak in the romance of lighthouse life. It was torn down sometime in the early 1970s, as I recall, which probably caused some sadness to members of more than a couple of generations of locals

Elleda Wilson said...

Sounds like a place that would be sorely missed, and I'm surprised it wasn't restored. I am curious - what was its name?

Anonymous said...

I don't think anyone ever called it anything particular that I can recall....I think it served as a range light for navigating the Tansey Point Range..But maybe it was much older, I just dont know. It wasnt a traditional stone structure and tower like the lights associated with the headlands and capes along the OR & WA, it was a wooden tower-the light room accessed by going up ladders from room to room. From the top one had a great view of the river and Astoria...

Elleda Wilson said...

I am totally intrigued and am sorry that I missed seeing it. Thanks for telling me about it.

Anonymous said...

I have one of the rare photos of it-if I knew where to send it to you, I would

Elleda Wilson said...

I'd love to see it. You can send it to astorianna@gmail.com
Thanks!

Anonymous said...

sent!