Portland Bill, Portland High, Portland Low and Portland Breakwater
by Ken Trethewey
[Portland Bill, Ken Trethewey, 2002]
I left Gosport at 1200 and drove to Portland, arriving there at about 1400. Portland is easy to find, being situated close to the port and south coast town of Weymouth. The lighthouses themselves are not marked on signposts, but simply by following signs to Portland Bill, the visitor cannot fail to find them.
Portland is not an island, but is thought of by most people as being one, for it is joined to the mainland of Britain by a narrow isthmus that is the southernmost end of the incredible natural feature called Chesil Beach. This is a great beach of pebbles and includes many prehistoric features that are of interest to both geologists and fossil hunters alike.
The island of Portland is a giant lump of sandstone that has been extensively quarried for centuries, and stone from it has been used in countless building projects all over the country, not least the wonderful Eddystone lighthouse built by John Smeaton. Everything about Portland seems different from the nature of the mainland and there is a great deal of history and culture relating to Portland that we don't have time to investigate here.
I went immediately to the southernmost tip of the island, the location known as Portland Bill, or simply, the Bill. The weather pattern for the day over most of the country was cloudy with showers or rain, but the southern coast was to benefit from the greatest number of breaks in the cloud and for the purposes of photography, the weather upon my arrival at the Bill was especially good. The skies cleared away to give a good deal of sunshine, but with many and varied cloud patterns and colours that make for interesting photos.
The Bill itself is a wonderful place to visit for the sea views are fabulous and the tidal races around the point give rise to significant disturbance even on quiet days.
There are three lighthouses on Portland, all at the southern end of the island and all within sight of each other. Only the most recent remains active, the others being given over to private ownership for numerous decades. The first to be built was the high lighthouse in 1716. Then, in 1789, the lower one was added. The names have always been a little confusing for the high light is a quite short tower on top of the hill, and the low light that is a tall tower much closer to sea level. In 1905, a 20th century lighthouse was constructed close to the point itself and named Portland Bill lighthouse. It was here that I began my tour.
In the past few years, Trinity House has (grudgingly?) recognised the importance of this lighthouse to the local heritage and its possibilities as a focus for tourists. Thus, the decision was made to create a Lighthouse Centre in the ground floor of the substantial building that is linked to the magnificent red and white tower. (There is another very substantial and much more modern detached house in the grounds of the lighthouse that appears still to be used for accommodation of the attendant and his family.)
The place looked exciting when I arrived, but my initial enthusiasm was soon to be dashed. Although the Centre had been quite nicely converted - in a physical sense - for the purpose, its content was extremely poor. There were no actual lighthouse exhibits apart from one small fourth order optic stuck away a far corner with no back-up information or explanation of any kind. The small part that had been given over to a gift shop contained a few wooden lighthouse models and very little else. Apart from a few postcards depicting the lighthouses of Portland, there was nothing relevant to the lighthouse heritage and no lighthouse books. Even the one book about Portland that was on sale contained nothing about the lighthouse history - of which there is much here.
It cost me £2 for a ticket to tour the lighthouse. There were two tour guides who I took to be the Attendant and his wife, he at the top, she at the bottom, both in contact by radio. It seems that a standard approach is in use here, for, just as at Pendeen, the visitors are stood in front of a poor five-minute video presentation. Although there is a significant amount of equipment in the space at the foot of the tower, as well as a number of things to see on the way up the tower, the visitor is left to find out for himself. The most important aspect of the visit, prior to climbing the stairs, is for Trinity House to divest itself of legal liability for the possible death of its visitors. This was in the form of a warning of the physical effort facing those of us stupid enough to want to climb the stairs without first embarking on a major programme of improvement to our respiratory fitness: we were all to be aware of the symptoms that might indicate impending heart failure!
The tower consists of several levels. After climbing about thirty feet, there is a level that contains the familiar bank of yellow batteries and an old oil pump. Above that there is another level with a locked door and a curtain in its window that prevents anyone from seeing inside. Through one window, it was possible to see the fog detector equipment mounted externally on the tower on a metal arm. The fog signal itself could also be seen on the inside, towards the top of the lowest level, poking out through a hole in the stonework.
Another feature of the lowest level is the following plaque placed on the wall:
"This lighthouse was erected by the Corporation of Trinity House in the year 1905.
"Vice Admiral His Royal Highness The Prince of Wales, Master.
Captain Sir George Rawlinson Vyvyan, KCMG, Deputy Master.
T. Matthews, Engineer-in-Chief.
"The tablet beneath was removed from the original low lighthouse which stood 797 yards in a north easterly direction from this site.
"For
The Direction and Comfort of Navigators;
For
The Benefit and Security of Commerce;
And for
A Lasting Memorial of BRITISH HOSPITALITY
To All Nations
This Light-House was erected
By the ancient Corporation of TRINITY-HOUSE
of Deptford Strond in 1789.
Distant from the Cliff 1608 Feet."
Carrying on up, you come to the service room where our upper level guide was waiting to welcome us and to provide the necessary additional health and safety instructions for climbing the steep ladder into the lantern room.
The service room contained the usual box of electronics that is present in all lighthouses and that indicates the current state of the systems. Apart from a view items of furniture, and a marine chart showing the Dorset coast, there was little else of interest other than a strategically positioned collecting box for the RNLI and the encouragement to add to its contents.
There is, of course, a delay while thirteen visitors ascend the unnaturally steep ladder into the lantern room. When they have done so, the lantern room is quite full of people, admiring the quietly revolving first order optic, with its perspex shield to keep wandering fingers from being crushed in the bearings.
As I start to make the most of a new roll of film and the beauty of the optic, the suns rays forming wonderful reflections in its crystal like a gigantic jewel, the officious voice of the Attendant rasps out, "Are those photographs for commercial or private use, Sir?"
"What business is it of yours? This is MY heritage" I think to myself, marvelling at the way British bureaucracy permeates the entire fabric of our Society. I could image a similar reaction in Soviet Russia!
"Private," I say casually. It pacifies him and, for the twenty-seventh time today, he launches into his narrative for the benefit of the other twelve, and even pretends to enjoy it. The time soon passes and when the usual questions run out we are invited to return below and photographers to deposit cash in the RNLI box, a strategy which successfully raises necessary funds for a good cause. Whether the giving was through spontaneous goodwill or outright fear of reprisals, I cannot say.
I always go last, making the most of an opportunity to photograph places with no people in the way. By the time I get back to the service room, the visitors are mostly making their way down the stairs, no doubt feeling much safer from unexpected medical conditions than when they came up. As a final riposte, he adopts a more friendly tone. "Hope they come out," he says. "Oh, they'll come out!" I reply, realising my double meaning and feeling rather proud of myself. I was not to make friends with such a man.
So that was it. I need to check my records as to when I was last here, but I suspect it was at least fifteen years ago. The lighthouse itself has changed little, something that I suppose I should be relieved about.
[Portland Low, Ken Trethewey, 2002]
I made my external tour of the area, investigating all the possibilities for good photographs and was pleased with the results. All three lighthouses were in good condition. The low light (the tall one) was – and has been for many years – in use as a bird observatory. Visitors were encouraged to enter the grounds and to purchase natural history books from a small book shop set up in an outbuilding, though not in the lighthouse itself. They were not, however, encouraged to park their cars on the premises (members only). I remember thinking that this was likely to discourage many potential customers, for there were few places to park (legally) on the roads outside and the nearest car park at the Bill was quite a distance away. Never mind, the lighthouse appeared to be in good hands.
[Portland High, Ken Trethewey, 2002]
The high light (the short one) was also in excellent condition. On my last visit, it was in private hands and in much poorer condition than today. A pseudo-lantern had now been built on the tower, although I was disappointed to see that it had not been done in a sympathetic lighthouse design, but rather in some artistic style, no doubt designed at great expense by some architect with a poor appreciation of lighthouse aesthetics. Generally, though, it appeared to be in a most healthy state and gave rise to some pleasing photographs.
The total time allocated to the visit was not great for I was eager to make my way home to Cornwall, but, on my way back across the island, I sought out the view point next to the castle that looks out over Portland harbour. From here I obtained a good view of the Portland harbour lighthouse, which showed up as a bright white in the healthy sunshine. The lighthouse is little known in the world at large, but is a splendid example of a cast iron lighthouse having what is, I believe, a unique design. It is situated on an arm of the breakwater that is inaccessible except by boat.
[Portland Breakwater, Ken Trethewey, 2002]
Overall, my day was a big success, but I am left, as I always seem to be, with the over-riding sense of great disappointment that Trinity House completely fails to deliver customer satisfaction. British citizens are always given an extremely experience of their rich lighthouse heritage by Trinity House, an organisation for whom Health and Safety legislation is an excuse to exclude. This station is one of the very few in the country where a centre has been specifically created for visitors, yet it is a quite miserable effort, reflecting the total lack of vision and creativity on the part of the decision makers.
Copyright 2002 Ken Trethewey; all rights reserved.
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Posted August 12, 2005. Site copyright 2005 Russ Rowlett and the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.