THE MEN IN THE LONELY PLACES

Radio Record, 11 March 1938, Page 10

THE MEN IN THE

LONELY PLACES

By

WILL

GRAVE

RADIO IS BRINGING THEM CLOSE TO US

‘TO-DAY radio comes to the men of the lonely places of New Zealand, bringing them news of the work and gaiety of the land in which they work, yet from. which they are almost cut off. And soon radio will bring the lives of the lonely men before these others . . . the city mon and the farmer. Soon station 2ZB plans to give a special series that will deal with the life and work of the lighthouse keepers of New Zealand.

OSING her way down the coast, an overseas liner with a cargo of passengers and merchandise picks up the signals of a lighthouse. On the bridge the officer on watch gives a2 nod as he sees the

friendly winking light that warns him of some rocky danger of the New Zealand coast. The passengers lean over the rail to get the last of the fresh night air before going below to cabins that ure sure to be stuffy and close and shut in. The revolving light blinks its reassuring message across the water, Somewhere, up in the high fower, is the lighthouse keeper. "Good Lord," says a man, thinking of the one in the top-room of the light tower. ‘What a lonely life." "Heavenly!" silently thinks a woman who is fed-up with the hectic life of parties and rushing about through ler world crowded with people who are continually amus: . ing themselves, . . UT. the man keeping watch on his light in the towe: thinks neither of these ways. He doesn’t have time to think of the loneliness of being cut off from the rest of civilisation. He doesn’t have time to think how peaceful it is away from the rush of the cities. He is usually thinking of his job of keeping the lantern revolving or the maintenance work-the carpentering, the metal work and the painting-or the way the youngsters are getting on with their school correspondence course, or the goats or cows that have to be milked, or the fishing he will do next day for blue cod or groper in his time off. T may be a night of storm when the whole of the tower is being thrashed by the wind and the panes of the giant lantern encrusted by sea spray. The noise of the wind ig deafening and the tower sways backwards anil forwards. If it didu’t sway it would break, so he likes the swaying. It reassures. him,

From the grating above his head comes the blaze of light from the high pressure kero-. sene burner. The light shines through great magnifying lenses and through the diamond shaped panes of the lantern itself. On

the top of the lantern is the great copper dome of the lighthouse. UT, sometimes, because the panes of the lantern must not be encrusted with spray he has to go out from his sheltered room on to an iron baleony and climb the iron ladder that leads up the outside glass of the lantern, and go on up the iron steps on the dome itself. He may plant his feet on the guttering of the dome. Ile does this with his tools in one hand and the wind tearing at Lim at a height of anything from 28 feet to. 168 feet. Dog Island lighthouse is 168 feet high. He doesn’t mind this, he gets used to it. Quite possibly he may have to tie his tools to a grating while he does his job. He gets into the way of putting his nose to the lantern and letting the wind hold it there. Perhaps one of the panes in the lantern has been broken and has to be replaced. Occasionally a bird has been known to hurtle against the pane with force enough to break it. The job has to be done. The lighthouse service has a reputation to keep up. Though the first watched light in the service was put in 60 years ago, no New Zealand watched light has ever been known to fail. "PHERE ure 27 watched lights in New Zealand attended by families of two or three keepers and there are 42 automatic lights. In the mote exposed stations there are usually three keepers to cope with the extra work and the bigger lights. In the wiuter, the lights are kept burning por ie hours out of each 24, and the.keepers do four hou shifts. The light itself is from high pressure kerosene "inside

a mantle surrounded by a set of heavy magnifying lenses. ‘The lantern outside the lenses revolves through the operation of weights which run on wire rope from the lantern down through the length of the tower. It revolves on the principle of the old weight clock and the keeper does the winding. In his top room in the tower he keeps a look out for ships and communicates with them by Morse. He takes the messages of ships that are reporting and sometimes he gives the shipping companies’ orders to the ships that pass by. To-day radio has largely superseded this service: most ships keep in touch directly with the companies by wireless. ADIO has changed the life of the lighthouse keeper a great deal. It has meant much to his wife and family. The average man ashore spends his evening listening to the radio and the lighthouse keeper does the same. The lighthouse keeper is no longer quite cut off He feels now that he misses very little of civilisation other than the canvasser at the door. JNSIDE his lighthouse, the keeper has his own snu2 world, bright. with polished floors and brasswork. But in New Zealand he does not live in his tower. He lives in bungalows near by, linked up to the tower by telephone. His four-roomed, three-storied tower is merel) his workroom. On the ground floor room, roughly some 16 feet square, he keeps his flag locker for international signals and his cabinet of spare parts. He has his well-stocked library and his office on the first floor and on the second floor he has his oil containers and oil tanks, and the emergency panes that he fits into the lantern with clamps.

IS service room, gleaming with the polished brasswork and steel of the machine that drives the lenses, is on the third floor. Here the keeper winds up his revolving lantern, hand-pumps his fuel and keeps his watch. From this room a door leads off to the balcony from which he signals to passing ships with his Morse lamp

{= is the lonely places of New Zealane that are inhabited by the lighthouse keepers. On the lighthouse on The Brothers, the three islands of Cook Strait, the three single men whe work there have three months’ duty

and then have six weeks ashore. Though cut off from land, they have their radio and they talk to the Nelson steamer most nights by Morse lamp. But on most of -the other sta tions the men have their wives and families and bring up their children sometimes in untamed country that was the New Zealand of a century ago. ON the Puysegur lighthouse,: on the south-west corner of the South Island, 160 miles south of Milford Sounds, the only communication the three keepers had until recent years, was through the calls of the Government steamer. Mails now come once every two months, but that’s luxury. Not long ago they came ouce every five months. And in that day all hands gathered in the chief keeper’s room while the mail was tipped

The Government steamer only stayed one night and this was the only way of going through the heap of mail to find out what replies would have to be sent before the ship sailed next day. [SOLATED? Yes. Not long ago the only way from there to civilisation was by eatching a stray fishing boat to Bluff. Or one could walk out to Tuatapere, if one liked the walk of 60 miles through

the bush. . The steamer landed the stores for five months at Otago’s Retreat,

two mies from the lighthouse. The two miles was covered by a route made of beach rocks, swamp and peat, with a little bit of road thrown in. And as for rain it was wet, say the lighthouse keepers, for 383 days a month, But they liked it. AIl the keepers who were there became fond of the place. The bush grew up high all round their houses, but they liked it. {OR the men there was good’ fishing and shooting. For the children there was the life full and overflowing with all the natural things of the bush, the bathing, and finding out the ways of the natural life ov the island. Storm-tossed birds are ofte drawn by the beacons, and ‘at

Cape Maria have been found ‘a: *" (Continued on page 82.) . "

In Lonely Places (Continued from ‘page 11). ' pair of kookaburras and nv large skua gull, measuring 8ft. 6in. across ~ the wing tips, a rare bird in New Zealaua. On Cuvier Island the small boy. of a keeper has found a mutton bird. a tuatara lizard and a-rat = all- living happily in the same burrow. Taken off to a lighthouse as a six weeks old baby, the boy thrived, although there was no milk but condensed milk and no green vegetables, He did not see another child until he was three years old. Then he anxiously asked his mother what it was, The children of the lighthouse keeper learn quickly by correspondence courses. They have fewer distractions than the children of civilisation. Their work is al] written, they learn to rely on themselves and they pass their proficiency tests without difficulty. OS At the present time, plans are being made for more radio beacons in New Zealand. That will give the lighthouse keeper electric lighting for his house and battery charging for his radio. But his work will go on just the same. And pissengers, leaning o¥er the rails of passing ships, will say, "How deadly!" and "Heavenly!" just the same. It makes no odds to the keeper. All he is worrying about is doing his job.