Lighthouses and their Keepers have gone the way of the blacksmith and the milkman. Nevertheless, the weathered relic one mile off shore of Oregon's Tillamook Head reminds us of the once-powerful sentinel Tillamook Rock Lighthouse and her seventy-seven years of service, keeping the sea lanes open and seafarers safe. The brave men who stood duty on the light station learned quickly what isolation was all about, and many of them considered it the loneliest job in the world. The lighthouse earned the nickname "Terrible Tilly," due to the shattering experiences of the people on the monolith during horrific, pounding storms. With no way off the Rock, and no way to call for help, all the Keepers could do was "ride it out." This is the story of those who built it, those who manned it, and those who paid the ultimate price to keep the beacon burning. This is the fascinating history and tales of the Tillamook Rock Lighthouse, tall, proud, and strong.
Lighthouses and their Keepers have gone the way of the blacksmith and the milkman. Nevertheless, the weathered relic one mile off shore of Oregon's Tillamook Head reminds us of the once-powerful sentinel Tillamook Rock Lighthouse and her seventy-seven years of service, keeping the sea lanes open and seafarers safe. The brave men who stood duty on the light station learned quickly what isolation was all about, and many of them considered it the loneliest job in the world. The lighthouse earned the nickname "Terrible Tilly," due to the shattering experiences of the people on the monolith during horrific, pounding storms. With no way off the Rock, and no way to call for help, all the Keepers could do was "ride it out." This is the story of those who built it, those who manned it, and those who paid the ultimate price to keep the beacon burning. This is the fascinating history and tales of the Tillamook Rock Lighthouse, tall, proud, and strong.
