Well kids, that's about it for me. A bit of touch up and some odds and ends and clean-up and then, "I'm outta here". Time to get back to the water works of Elk and Irish Beach.
Our local newspaper, the Mendocino Beacon, came out with the whole front page devoted to the installation of the Fresnel Lens by the Coast Guard. It claimed that the light would be permanently lit on the day the paper came out, and it would have been, except that it was discovered that the drive shaft that turns the Fresnel lens was slightly bent! So, the light changer and drive motor had to be removed and the shaft pulled out. It is now being trued up in a machine shop and will soon be back in place. I expect the lamp will shine May 1st.
The following months will see the roof being torn off the Lighthouse and the dormers reinstalled like they were originally. Then the new roof will go on. Also the refurbishing the exterior walls of the Lighthouse, the installation of new windows and refinishing the interior will be happening. August 7th is the dead line everyone is aiming for. That day will mark the 90th anniversary of Point Cabrillo and be a big celebration. Everyone, and I mean everyone will be there.
My part of the project is done but I expect to volunteer some energy to Point Cabrillo from time to time and to stay in touch with the wonderful folks there who have become my friends; Kevin, Rosana, Ginny, Jinna, Tony and Julia.
Now that the Lantern and Fresnel lens is all shiny and bright I would like to end with a poem I discovered hanging on the wall in the little room where all the paint stripping and polishing of the Fresnel Lens brass occured:
It was written by
Fred Morong, a
is the bane of the lightkeeper's life
makes him look ghastly consumptive and thin,
devil himself could never invent,
in the tower, reflector and shade,
containers I polish until
down to slumber all weary and sore,
pillar to post, rags and polish I tote,
machinery, clockwork, and fog signal bell,
scrub and polish, and work with a might,
the next day, and when noontime draws near,
goes all the summer, and along in the fall
again in the spring, if perchance it may be,
should the spirit of mortal be proud,
I have polished until I am cold,
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