Nightfall, force nine
A storm comes in off the Sound.
The glass drops by teatime. By dusk the sea is walking up the rock and spray is rattling the cottage windows. The tower has stood here since 1857 and has seen worse. Bring a book, a bottle and your good socks.
Gusts to 74 mph, December 2023
Half past four
Then the lamp is lit.
At dusk the keeper climbs the 132 steps and lights the lamp, as someone has done every night since the first. The beam sweeps the water, and in the rain you can see it: a solid bar of amber going out over the sea.
Range 22 nautical miles
Inside the lens
Ninety-four glass prisms.
A Fresnel lens is a beehive of cut glass that gathers every flicker of the lamp and throws it out as two clean beams. It weighs two tonnes, floats on a ring of bearings and will turn at the push of a finger. On our Tuesday tours, you do the pushing.
A flash every fifteen seconds
Down the steps
The keeper's cottage.
Walls a metre thick keep the weather outside. Within there is a wood stove, a deep window seat and a kitchen table made from a ship's hatch. The windows glow all night, because we leave the lamps on for you.
Sleeps two to six
First light
Dawn, and the sea lies down.
By six the wind has gone round to the north and the swell is falling. The lamp goes out, seals haul up on the skerry, and breakfast arrives at your door in a basket: eggs, soda bread and smoked haddock.
Breakfast basket included