Mount Desert Rock Light Stands the Test of Time
There is an outpost along the coast of Maine that is neither hospitable nor snug. A place so remote that its utter isolation evades all measure. A place so imperiled during fits and fury of the sea that hope itself races to and fro seeking assurance.
This place is Mount Desert Rock.
Upon this impervious rock ledge does a fortified granite lighthouse stand – defiantly so. Here the beacon occupies a position entirely devoid of ascent’s comfort. Drama is its companion. Whispers of desolation abound.
To its eastward an expanse without apparent end reigns upon a throne of nothingness. From these whereabouts does the stormy sweep of wind and sea ride unabated. Voluminous are the walls of water it spawns and harrowing the force of its gusty animosity. During such times, bad intentions run amok.
For its bygone keepers, strength and shelter were often found within the sentinel’s sturdy confines during gales gone mad. Yet doubts lingered still. And on occasion when ominous clouds and the seething deep were indistinguishable, faith alone was the “flame” that kept both beacon and heart aglow.
“Flee to the tower” keepers once urgently shouted to those in their circle, as brine and dread inundated their well-being. Directly, the storm may as well replied, “there is no place to hide.” Still to the shuddering lighthouse each person retreated. For there alone did tomorrow abide.
Looking back, Mount Desert Rock was a place that stirred the heart, mind and spirit in ways that escaped adequate conveyance. It did then. It does now.