The Hatteras Gestapo

I don't think it's possible to spend an entire week in the Outerbanks and not go to at least one lighthouse. Especially if your wife is a lighthouse enthusiast. Fortunately we got our lighthouse fix out of the way early in the week. We drove an hour south to arguably the most famous lighthouse in the entire world, Cape Hatteras.

The Hatteras light has a semi-interesting history, especially its recent history. The original light was first placed here in 1803 to warn mariners of the dangerous Diamond Shoals that were constantly causing shipwrecks in what became known as "The Graveyard of the Atlantic." The light was your typical-looking tower, nothing special. The light was damaged considerably during the Civil War and Congress decided it would be less costly to just build a whole new one. The Outerbanks is the victim of constant, relentless erosion from the pounding ocean and the builders rightly decided to build the new light 600 feet farther inland. The original plan was to paint a diamond pattern on the light to remind mariners that it was the "Diamond Shoals" they were being warned against. But there was a logistical goof and the Cape Lookout light got the diamond pattern. Rather than repainting, they decided to give Hatteras its now trademark spiral "barber pole" pattern. Honestly, I can think of no other reason, other than its "pretty design", why this light should be so famous. The average American tourist doesn't really care about history or marine geography so much as nice photo opportunities for their digital cameras. But there you are.

The constant erosion of the Outerbanks put the famous light in danger once again, so back in 1999 a huge and ambitious project began to MOVE the lighthouse 1600 feet inland in order to protect it from inevitable death as the ocean continued to weaken the shoreline it stood on. I know there are enthusiasts out there who want to do everything they can to protect lighthouses and keep them as an indelible icon of the mariners way of life, but mostly they're just trying to make sure there's enough money to keep the lights shining and not torn down to put up beach front property. But this was an outlandish preservation effort for even the most committed lighthouse nut. I seriously wonder if this much money and effort would have been committed to save the Cape Hatteras light had it not been given its pretty spiral pattern way back when, casting it hopelessly into the hearts of enthusiasts (and people who otherwise wouldn't have given a shit) for generations.

But enough history. These days the Hatteras light is open for business once again to those who want to endure the gruff employees, rushed atmosphere and gestapo-like regulations they've placed on the thing. My last experience with a lighthouse was in Oregon on our road trip. The Oregon folk know how to maintain a lighthouse. And we visited several in our drive through that state. Each one is operated by volunteers who have been educated in the rich history of the particular light. They will spend the time talking, explaining and telling anecdotes from each light's hundred-year-plus history. Lauren and I spent a good half-hour chit-chatting with the volunteer at the top of the Coquille River Light. He pointed out the hazards of the area, told us stories about tsunamis (which he called "sneaker waves") and fascinated us with tales of local mariners.

Compare that to the workers at Hatteras whose only job appeared to be reciting the long list of rules one must obey while in the lighthouse, as well as the lengthy list of what you could and could not bring with you into the lighthouse. There was no interaction with the workers except for when they told you exactly how much time you had left before you had to leave the lighthouse. The Hatteras organization DID make a token attempt at education via a series of displays set up in the old keepers quarters a few hundred feet away from the actual light. But again the workers (volunteers?) had an air of people who are bored to tears with their job and are just waiting for the clock to hit 2:00 so they can punch out. They didn't strike me as the kind of people you'd feel comfortable asking questions of expecting a friendly, informative answer.

To these people's credit, again, this is probably the most popular lighthouse in the world. It gets over a million visitors per year. People visit this lighthouse who don't give two craps about lighthouses. You get average Joe Public with his fat obnoxious wife and their six bratty children coming to this lighthouse asking questions like "how come there's no video arcade?" rather than people with a genuine interest in the magnitude of the lens and how many shipwrecks are out on the shoals. It's got to get aggravating. And it's these people (who I have termed "interstate tourists" in my road trip travelogue) who are the troublemakers, the people with no respect for anything, and the people most likely write their names on the walls or sue to Hatteras organization should they have a coronary trying to climb to the top of the 12-story tower. So I really do understand it. And actually I don't fault the Hatteras folk for anything. In order to keep this place open to the public, they really do have to cater to the lowest common denominator and that means creating rules for people too stupid to have common sense.

But it's exactly this kind of mass consumer tourism that I hate, and the reason why I will stick to less popular lighthouses in the future. I'm sure the Hatteras light is taller and "prettier" than the one at Coquille River, but I have much fonder memories of that short, plain-looking light with its friendly staff...

And if I ever get off my ass and finish Week 3 of the Road Trip, you too will read about it some day.