Halfway to Somewhere
There is a rugged place, edgy and desolate, that rises up from depths unseen along the outer reach of Maine’s Casco Bay. Halfway Rock is its name. Here, a stalwart lighthouse presides over a domain imbued with a sense of restlessness. The feeling seems fated.
Prior to the granite guardian’s presence, dread would fill the air when navigating this vicinity in storm and fog. For many a ship unaware was torn asunder by its ledge, sharp and merciless. Amidst such imperilment, lives were forever altered. Some survived their terrifying ordeal, others were not so fortunate.
And what are we to call Halfway Rock’s craggy terrain? Well, surely it is not an island. Rather, it is simply a rock whose impervious bearing murmurs incessantly the words, danger and uncertainty.
After years of public pleading to the highest level of our government, compassion for the mariner and waterway traveler was finally attained in 1871 when the immovable object – Halfway Rock Lighthouse, met straightaway, the irresistible force of the sea.
George H. Toothaker, keeper at Halfway Rock Lighthouse from 1873 to 1885, reminisced about the unflinching fabric of his home away from home in the August 1, 1897 Washington Post story. The keeper noted:
“No light on the coast is more exposed than this. Waves dash frequently twenty-two feet up the tower, breaking and rolling away. In winter storms the rock is always wave-swept. Storms do not rock it or shake it, and the only visible thing to affright a landsman in a storm would be the awful aspect of the sea itself, as, lifted by the wind, it spreads its frenzied outbursts on rock and tower, dashing the spray almost to the very lantern itself.”
Try as harrowing winds and waves have over the past century and a half, the fury of countless storms has proven futile against the gallant Halfway Rock Lighthouse. Battering and inundation continue at this forsaken station – periodically causing much in the way of harm to the attached wooden boathouse and ramp, yet the sentinel itself still stands strong, and sends out its guiding light, red and bright, for all.
And if safeguarding precious human lives was not enough, Halfway Rock is now helping to protect the endangered North Atlantic Right Whale as well. How? Through MotionInfo’s amazing AIS StationKeeper system, which the lighthouse contains – fittingly so, inside the confines of the tower’s watch room where bygone keepers once maintained dedicated vigils. Day and night, StationKeeper is on duty!
Ah, but back to the Rock. Cheerful colors dare not take up residence at this barren place. If color does manage to momentarily grab hold upon broken ground, be assured the realm’s briny blue taskmaster will erase it in short order. For only hues of gray, white and tide-stained brown – soaked in ample melancholy, are granted permanent stay.
When I ponder Halfway Rock, I am struck by how it straddles opposing paths. Within its sphere of influence, circumstances are always halfway to somewhere – be they between the points of Cape Elizabeth and Cape Small or feelings of assurance and apprehension.
As I looked around the rock during a recent visit, I noticed a number of fluffy gull chicks learning to get their “sea legs” under them as they explored the time blemished ledge. Nearby, seals were soaking up the sun and swimming in tide pools near the lighthouse. The scenes were both delightful and invigorating!
When one gets right down to the heart of the matter at Halfway Rock, this wave-swept place is all about hope. The concept is anchored as tightly to the site’s grim ledge as the lighthouse itself. If hope endures – even thrives, at this most unlikely outpost, then opportunity is bound to flourish.
Speaking of new life, even the lighthouse has experienced a renaissance. In 2004, Maine Preservation named Halfway Rock Lighthouse as one of the ten most endangered historic properties in Maine. Then ownership of the lighthouse was offered to eligible government entities and nonprofits in 2014, but no one stepped forward. The future looked dire for Halfway Rock.
That was until one man – Ford Reiche of Freeport, Maine, entered into the picture. Ford purchased the lighthouse at auction in 2015 and subsequently delivered what no one else could, or would. A mere two years later, the historic site was restored and gleaming once more. In the process, Ford Reiche established a gold standard example for offshore lighthouse preservation.
Officially, the last lighthouse keepers departed Halfway Rock in 1975 when the United States Coast Guard automated the storied station. Yet four decades later – against all odds, a modern day “keeper” showed up onto the scene when the lighthouse needed this person the most.
Ten years later, Ford Reiche is still on “watch” and showing the nationwide lighthouse community just what a meaningful difference modern day “keepers” can make at a place whose future once hung in the balance. Thanks to Ford Reiche, this lighthouse – halfway to somewhere, is now brimming with more than hope. It has renewed life too!
