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Save
Our Lights!
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American Lighthouse Foundation, Inc.
P.O. Box 565
Rockland,
Maine 04841
Phone: 207-594-4174
info@lighthousefoundation.org
The American Lighthouse Foundation is a
Non-Profit 501(c)(3) Organization dedicated to the preservation of America's historic lighthouses.
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Bell Buoy Proves to be a
Lifesaver in the Fog
By Bob Trapani, Jr.
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| Tasked with marking good waterways and
dangerous obstructions, the unassuming buoy performs monumental service
to the mariner without any of the glory or fanfare that the public lauds
a lighthouse for when it comes to its lifesaving powers. Floating “on
station” to safeguard mariners, buoys bounce and spin upon the water at
the whim of the wind and tides, but their lifesaving powers are no less
important than their lighthouse counterparts. In some instances, only a
buoy is capable of marking an underwater hazard or the way to safe
passage - and |
Photo by Bob Trapani, Jr.
Little River Entrance Bell Buoy
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on occasion, the
“lowly” buoy plays a vital role in saving a life during a harrowing moment
when all seems lost.
For Hal Biering, a brand new volunteer at the time for the American
Lighthouse Foundation at Little River, a buoy proved to be the lone
difference in safeguarding his life against the mystifying spell of the sea.
In June 2003 as Hal left Little River Light Station, the unpredictability
of Grand Manan Channel in the Bay of Fundy would be a lesson that would soon
be seared forever in his mind. Biering, who hails from Alabama, has since
gone on to faithfully volunteer every summer from June through the end of
August at Little River Light Station, but the frightful experience that
transpired on his second day at the island back in 2003 remains as vivid as
ever.
“My first day on the job, Tim Harrison, president of the American Lighthouse
Foundation, showed me around the island light station,” |
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Photo by Chessie Johnson
ALF volunteer Hal Biering
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says Biering. “The second day I went out
in the boat by myself to take all my tools to the island. When I
finished unloading and staging everything at the keeper’s house, I
decided to walk back across the island to the boat. When I arrived at
the boathouse, I saw all the fog in the harbor. I remember |
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saying, “Holy
Smokes!” I hadn’t operated a boat under these conditions in 20 years.”
Fog is the mariner’s most dreaded fear – a time when visibility becomes
nonexistent and the anxieties of the seafarer run high. In the days before
radar, fog would paralyze shipping for fear of colliding with an unseen
passing vessel or grounding on a hidden shoal that could easily inflict a
fatal blow to a wooden vessel. A ship captain knew all to well that by the
time the gray shadows emerged from the wispy murk, thus revealing another
vessel in the path of his ship, it was often too late and cataclysmic
consequences often ensued. Even today with all the navigational advantages
afforded by the Global Positioning System, fog can still prove to be
problematic, especially to the non-professional mariner.
“As I tried to leave the island, I lost all my bearings,” recalls Biering.
“Instead of heading back to the dock in Cutler Harbor, I got turned |
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around and was
actually going out the north end of the harbor to the Grand Manan
Channel. As I was going, the bell buoy’s gong was getting louder, so I
steered for it. I then heard the light station’s foghorn but couldn’t
quite make out what direction the signal was coming from.”
A thick fog is
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Photo by Bob Trapani, Jr.
A close-up view of the buoy's bell
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notorious for distorting sound
and a mariner’s ability to pinpoint the direction from which an audible
signal like a bell or horn is emitting from. Sound has been known to also
“skip” along the water as well, making navigation by audible signals less
than precise. Hal Biering knew this all too well, but his options were
limited. In addition to drifting blindly along the water, Hal also risked
becoming victim of a collision with an inbound lobster boat since his small
16-foot outboard may not show up on the lobsterman’s radar. With his motor
throttled down low for safety reasons, Hal decided to “anchor” his fate to
the suddenly towering presence of the Little River Entrance Bell Buoy – its
daymark red and white stripes now coming into full view, where he could
reevaluate his growing plight.
Biering described the scene saying, “I decided to temporarily tie my boat up
to the bell buoy and started blowing the boat’s aerosol |
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Photo by Bob Trapani, Jr.
A typical fog-bank rolls in off Grand
Manan channel at Little River Light Station.
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foghorn.” Though he was now
somewhat safe in the shadow of the bobbing steel guidepost, Biering
could hardly relax. He might have stopped drifting further out into a
shroud of uncertainty, but finding his way back into the harbor was
another story. All the while, the doleful sound of the buoy’s rugged
bell rang out at |
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intervals
determined by the sea’s agitation of the bell’s clappers. “Approximately 30
to 45 minutes passed – which seemed like an eternity,” recalls Biering. “I
was becoming pretty frightened.”
Biering went on to
say, “I began to devise a plan in my head to try and make my way toward
where the foghorn sound seemed to be coming from at Little River Island,
when suddenly a lobster boat that was coming back from working on the bay,
spotted me. He naturally asked me what I was doing. When I told him of my
dilemma, he then proceeded to tow me back into the harbor.”
Within the pages
of the United States Coast Guard Light List, the bell |
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buoy that
proved invaluable to Biering is simply known by a light list number of
“1080,” with a reference identifying it as “Entrance Bell Buoy LR.” On
this day, however, Hal expressed a greater appreciation for it, saying,
“You could say the bell buoy was a lifesaver.” |
Photo by Bob Trapani, Jr.
A thick fog envelops Little River Island
at the entrance to Cutler Harbor.
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Dealing with Fog...
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Photo by Bob Trapani, Jr.
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Nun "2" in Cutler Harbor has always been a "friend" to ALF volunteer Hal
Biering. Since fog can be somewhat of a constant in the harbor during the
summer, Hal relies on this buoy to guide him to Little River Island even
though the fog conceals the location of the land. Hal explains, saying...
"When
I leave the dock each morning during foggy times, I steer a slow course that
parallels close-in to the north shore of the harbor. Once I pass the salmon
pens adjacent to shore, I begin looking for nun "2." Shortly after passing
the pens, the nun comes into view. Passing the nun, I begin changing my
course by making a wide right turn, knowing the island will eventually come
into view...and it does. The buoy helps me out a lot...it let's me know I
can make my turn for the island despite the lack of visibility." |
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