Not Just Another Pretty Face!

Lighthouse Daymarks

Our stalwart sentinels have good reasons to look pretty! Daymarks are their dresses. Above, artist Virginia Sousa's painting of beautiful White Shoal Light in Lake Michigan appears on a holiday cover for Lighthouse Digest.

© Elinor DeWire

Perhaps it's our love-affair with lighthouses that makes us view them as something more than the utilitarian structures they really are. Their sheer height, jewel-like optics, spiral stairs, and candy cane stripes seem as natural to the coastal landscape as sand and seagulls. They lure the photographer, painter, and poet, enchant the vacationer, bedazzle the beachcomber. Even the navigator is awestruck by their beauty.

But are those handsome paint schemes and decorative adornments intended merely to please the eye? Would the government spend precious tax dollars on lighthouse "makeup"? Not likely, and here's why --

"Nothing that has to do with the appearance of a light tower is by happenstance, but by carefully planned design and all for purposes of easy identification," wrote maritime historian H.C. Adamson in his book, Keepers of the Lights.

In the bright light of day, with their beacons asleep, we easily forget that picturesque lighthouses are still on duty. Their size, shape, and color broadcast a daytime message as important as the brilliant rays of light they send seaward after dark. Bold stripes, skeleton legs, octagonal walls, buttressed bases, tiered chambers -- all combine to identify a particular lighthouse for the navigator looking upon it from the water.

Cape Disaapointment Light at the mouth of the Columbia River wear a black belt.

The barber-pole beauty of Cape Hatteras Lighthouse has made it America's best-loved sentinel, but its trappings are not merely cosmetic. Invariably, whenever contractors are hired to sandblast and repaint the 208 foot brick tower, someone suggests that its world-famous black and white spiral paint scheme be changed to red, white, and blue. But Cape Hatteras Light has worn its distinctive daymark for over a century, and barring any unforeseen circumstances, the Coast Guard has no plans to alter it.

Every sailor knows how valuable daymarks, or daybeacons, are for navigation. At night, the lights show the way with their unique colors and flash sequences, but during the day the seaman must judge position by known landmarks. Brightly painted lighthouses in a multitude of shapes -- conical, cylindrical, octagonal, square, housetop, telescoping -- are reliable guideposts guaranteed to be dressed according to their descriptions in the Light List. Along with Bowditch, a Coast Guard Light List is the navigator's bible, cataloguing all the lighthouses, buoys, daybeacons, channel markers, and fog signals along our coasts. These nautical reference books provide detailed descriptions of the location and appearance (day or night) of every navigational aid. They are updated frequently and relied upon heavily by shipping of all types, from the smallest sailboat to the titanic tanker.

Ancient navigators sailed by the seat of their pants, without sophisticated instruments or manmade structures to guide them, but they did use daymarks. Old Viking sailing directions mention odd-shaped rocks and curious headland profiles. In Medieval Britain, certain stretches of coast were distinguishable by their great stands of trees, and so pressing was the need for these natural daymarks, the monarchy deemed the cutting of them a crime punishable by death.

Natural daymarks were also well-known in early America. Among these were the brilliant clay cliffs of Gay Head on Martha's Vineyard and the sparkling Diamond Shoals along the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Mountain peaks and unusual rock formations were also used. When the Gold Rush sent an armada of ships to the West Coast, via Cape Horn, California's bold headlands and the arches and stacks of Oregon and Washington pointed the way. Washington also had a "Lone Tree" marking the coast near Willapa Bay. As recently as 1937 the government reaffirmed the navigational value of natural landmarks by utilizing one at Isle Royale, Lake Superior. In that year, the lighthouse tender Amaranth painted "a jutting rock for use as a daymark." The rock's black face was painted white to clearly differentiate it from its dark surroundings and facilitate safe passage into Rock Harbor.

Bruce Robie, board member of Washington Lightkeepers Association, took this dusk shot of St. Augustine Lighthouse in Florida. It's famous for its black & white spiral daymark and red cap.

In our nation's infancy, daymarks were simple. In channels and small harbors, various kinds of barrels, spindles, cages, and tripods marked the safe routes. All twelve Colonial lighthouses, from Portland, Maine to Tybee, Georgia, were built with conical or octagonal walls, white-washed to help them show up well against backgrounds of tawny beach, gray rocks, and green forests. Their keepers were kept busy maintaining the bright daymarks. Gallons of white-wash and paint were used up and brushes were worn down to stubble. Keepers rigged scaffolds and sling-chairs to do the painting and scaled the exterior and interior tower walls like human spiders. It was dangerous work that sometimes resulted in injury or death.

Shortly after the Revolution, the fledgling Lighthouse Service, under the guidance of Alexander Hamilton, increased the number of lighthouses in the nation and began to mark them more distinctly. In the Northeast, gray winter scenery, fog, and snow made daytime identification difficult. Following the Canadian practice of painting lighthouses red, or partially red, to make them stand out against a background of snow or fog, New England and the Great Lakes differentiated some of their beacons with attractive and colorful daymarks. "Big Red" at Holland Harbor, Michigan can't be missed in a blizzard. West Quoddy Head Lighthouse, near Lubec, Maine still cuts a comely profile with bright red and white horizontal stripes that show up even in a pea soup fog. Nearby Head Harbor Lighthouse on Campobello Island has a huge red cross on two of its sides. Nova Scotia's Sambro Island Light wears brilliant red and white stripes.

Canadian lighthouses also have brightly painted lanterns to contrast with their surroundings. Peggy's Cove Light, near Halifax, is well-known for its red lantern, and the range beacons on the Canadian side of the Niagara River entrance sport bright red caps. Dalhousie's range lights on Lake Ontario have green lanterns.

Southeast sentinels also employed red and green. Virginia's Assateague Lighthouse wears a red and white striped cloak, a pattern that shows up well against the pine barrens surrounding the lighthouse. Florida's Jupiter Light is bright red to differentiate it from neighboring lights at Hillsboro Inlet and Key Biscayne. St. Augustine wears a red lantern to avoid confusion with Cape Hatteras Light, since both towers have black and white spiral bands. Many copper-roofed beacons, such as Virginia's old Cape Henry Light, have turned green with age.

Along the Outer Banks of North Carolina, aptly dubbed "The Graveyard of the Atlantic," accurate marking of the low, beige capes and beaches is crucial. Five lighthouses stand watch within a stretch of 150 miles, and to easily identify them by day the government devised distinctive daymarks that good sailors have committed to memory. A chorus line of handsome towers identifies each section of the Outer Banks: Currituck Light stands on the northern reaches with a natural red brick daymark. Bodie Island Lighthouse at Oregon Inlet is encircled by black and white horizontal bands. Cape Hatteras Light, at the elbow, boasts the familiar and much-loved spiral bands of black and white, and Ocracoke Lighthouse on Pony Island is entirely white. Guarding the lower extremity at Cape Lookout is a tall, whimsical lighthouse in a black and white diamond drape.

Bunbury Light in West Australia wears a checkerboard daymark.

Black lighthouses show up well along the flat, buff-colored beaches of the Gulf of Mexico. Mississippi's Biloxi Lighthouse was given a black daymark shortly after the Civil War, causing a rumor that it wore a shroud of mourning for President Lincoln. But the Lighthouse Service was merely responding to claims that a white tower was difficult to see against the background at Biloxi. After the switch to black failed to resolve the complaints, the lighthouse's white daymark was restored and remains today (pictured below). The light towers at Bolivar and Matagorda, Texas are also black, though Bolivar once wore black bands, as shown on the old postcard below. A popular explanation is that the totally black daymark celebrates Texas oil, but both lighthouses stand on low, tawny beaches and are more easily seen in black garb. This was not true for Alabama's Sand Island Lighthouse, but it too was painted black so sailors would not confuse it with its neighbors.

New Yorkers' enthusiasm for the little red lighthouse beneath the George Washington Bridge was dampened a bit when they learned its red color was not in honor of a celebrated children's book, but by its position. Daymarks - even the prettiest ones - are purely functional. Jeffries Hook Light, as the tiny sentinel is correctly called, is a Hudson River daymark and, being situated on the starboard side of the channel, must be painted red.

White daymarks have always stood out well against the rugged headlands and capes of the West Coast, Alaska, and Hawaii. Lofty Makapu'u Light, northeast of Honolulu, looks like a tiny white spike high on the windward cliffs. Yaquina Head Lighthouse rises high over the Oregon shores in a pillar of white surmounted by a black lantern cap, and the white tower of Southeast Five Finger Island in Alaska shows up well against its rugged, timberland background. Banded daymarks are also used at some spots on the West Coast. Pyramid Rock Light at Kaneohe, Hawaii is a nontraditional, box-shaped affair with diagonal black and white stripes. The original lighthouse at New Dungeness, Washington had a black lower half and white upper half. Bright rings of horizontal black and white stripes encircle Cape Disappointment Lighthouse on the Columbia River entrance and on the Race Rocks Lighthouse in British Columbia. Prospect Point Light, another Canadian sentinel on the West Coast, has a prominent red bard slashed across its front face.

Daymarks can be changed when the need arises, and many lighthouses have switched fashions over the years. Twin lighthouses were built at Cape Elizabeth, Maine, but seamen frequently confused them with Cape Ann's twin lights and those of Matinicus Rock, Maine. So the government changed Cape Elizabeth's white daymark, first to two brown towers, then a mismatched pair with a series of uneven red stripes, and finally back to white. Cape Cod's Nobska Light wore a ruddy daymark in years past, as did the Nubble Light off York, Maine (shown at left with a brown daymark). Texas' Bolivar Light (above) and Sabine Light both had stripes early in their careers before being painted solid colors, and Georgia's Sapelo Island Light long ago wore stripes. Photos of these former colors and designs are quite valuable today.

Shape can distinguish a lighthouse as well. Most are conical, a contour that offers less resistance to wind and water and is stable on most types of foundations. Some sentinels have unusual shapes well-known to navigators. Seven Foot Knoll Light in Baltimore looks much like a big kettle drum, Long Island's Orient Point resembles a coffeepot, and San Francisco's Mile Rocks Light was the tiered "Wedding Cake Light" before automation decapitated it.

Occasionally, lighthouses create their own daymarks. Hardly a sailor today doesn't recognize Sharps Island Lighthouse in the Chesapeake Bay. Some years ago, the caisson foundation of the cast iron lighthouse gave way, and it slowly leaned to one side. Though threatened with destruction, it's a perfect example of what daymarks are all about -- By rendering a structure absolutely unique in appearance, a daymark helps make it as welcome a sight to mariners by day as by night. It's not just another pretty face, but an indispensable visual clue for determining inshore position.

This is a revised version of an article that originally appeared in Offshore Magazine, February 1987. © Elinor DeWire