Skommer Fyr (by John)

The engine roared as the British plane dove down to engage the German battleships Gneisnau and Shcarnhort. The gunner pressed his sights and fired. Rap, Rap, Rap! Glass shattered. She was hit! The battle raged on but, when the smoke cleared, Skommer Fyr was still standing tall. Two of her 16 lenses were damaged, but she was still able to send out her beacon to guide ships through the shallows at the end of the Lofoten island chain. That was April 9th, 1940.

Isolation overwhelmed me as I stepped onto the island. No trees here, nothing to catch the eye, only horizon. Pink and blue wildflowers bend in the wind, the sea pounded the rocks. Here at the last outpost in the chain of Islands hanging off the coast of Norway, Skommer Fyr stood; her damaged lenses and the patched holes in the lighthouse still visible.

For years the lighthouse had stood empty but for the automated gears and switches. But now Chris Peterson has taken up residence. "All you need is a computer, a celluar phone and a fax machine," he said, "and you could be anywhere in the world." But it does have its risks. "I could get stuck out here for a long time if the weather turns bad."

And the weather does turn bad. To combat it, the roof tiles are made of rock 4 centimeters thick. "These will last for 100 years," Chris said. The lighthouse too is made to endure the weather. The base is solid concrete and the rest, rising to 157 feet, is 3/4 inch steel.

But why has Chris moved here? "I'm on a disability pension and I wanted to give something back," he said. "I want to preserve these lighthouses because they played such an important role in Norway's history." To do this Chris has set up The Stifielsen Norske Fyr (Association of Lighthouse Conversation). Its aim is to insure that the 153 remaining Norwegian lighthouses and their grounds do not fall into disrepair and to educate the people of their importance. "Each year more and more of these lighthouses become automated," Chris told us. "That means no one is around to maintain the grounds. Only thirty lighthouses remain which are still manned."

Chris has chosen Skommer Fyr as his first project. He has plans to put a museum in the tower and hold tours as part of the bird watching trips from Rost. Our tour was perhaps a practice run. He hopes that through volunteer work, the houses and buildings surrounding the lighthouse can be maintained. "I think people would like to spend a holiday here for a week," he said. "For one week be removed from the hustle of everyday life."

Chris' knowledge of lighthouses was impressive. He told us about the old method of adding weights to adjust the rotation speed of the lenses, about the use of kerosene and welding gas as a means to power the light, and about the modern electric and now automated methods.

"The light that the tower throws stretches 19.7 nautical miles," Chris said. "But the blinking light in the tower doesn't actually blink. "It's an optical illusion." He explained. He held his arms out shoulder length and turned until one finger pointed to my eye. "It's called a double blinker but it only looks like a blink because of the angle your eye catches the light at as it rotates and shines through each of the 16 lenses. The lenses focus the light to a beam. In four minutes it completes one rotation and you perceive that as eight double blinks." The holes left from the war don't alter that perceived blink but it does light up Chris' yard like a football field. "If I walk fast enough, I can make a complete circle of the yard in a full beam of light," he mused.

Lighthouses were used to tell ships where land was or where to avoid shallow waters (through the intersection of two lighthouse beams). Today a lot of that work is done by Global Position Systems (GPS). But Skommer Fyr has kept up with technology. "Every day the U.S. Department of Defense introduces an error into the system," Chris told us. "That means up to 300 feet off course. But Skommer Fyr never moves so we can decode that error and instantly send it to the ships. They know exactly where they are."

Whether decoding GPS error or standing as a reminder of days past, the lighthouses of Norway have stories to tell. Chris Peterson is anxious to tell them all. With his determination, I think he will.