The Lighthouse People at Portland Head, Maine
We’ve trudged down many a trail, high winds blowing, slogged through sand carrying camera bags in hundred-degree temperatures, with bugs biting, Nikons slung around our necks. We’ve waded knee deep on a trail flooded with water from the Hudson River. We’ve gone out on the water in sport boats, crabber’s boats, lobsterman’s boats, rowboats and inflatables. We don’t know how many ferries we have taken.
We’ve flown in twin engine planes, single engine planes, seaplanes and helicopters. We’ve climbed over boulders, hung from tree branches over a cliff and rolled in a mud puddle under a fence.
Why? To photograph a lighthouse.
They’ve visited lighthouses that are no longer standing, and they’ve photographed lighthouses that have been relocated. Their determination brought them to lighthouses they were told were impossible for them to reach. Off the coast of California, they climbed a rocky, guano-covered cliff trying to avoid the nests and overprotective attacks of terns to reach a deteriorating lighthouse at the top.
They flew out several times to photograph a lone lighthouse in the Great Lakes that had been enshrouded with fog for days, making it impossible to photograph. But on their last try, God opened the clouds and let the sun shine down on the lighthouse, giving them a perfect shot.