Long may our lighthouses keep shining their benevolent light

Lighthouses? Who needs them? What place does a beam of light from an old stone tower have in a modern world of sophisticated navigational aids run by satellites? There are certainly those who argue that lighthouses have outlived their usefulness and should be decommissioned – or, at the very least, “modernised”. But, as the people of Anglesey have gloriously shown us, there are still plenty who are willing to fight for their lighthouses.

For 97 years a bell has rung every 30 seconds from the Trwyn Du Lighthouse, to warn mariners that they are close to the coast in Penmon. Now the lighthouse operator, Trinity House, plans to replace the bell with an electronic foghorn, which provides an “assurance of reliability”. The new horn has been derided as “soulless” by sailors and locals who consider the old bell to be part of a “magical sea symphony”. Around 1,000 people have signed a petition to keep it.

If anybody knows about tradition, it ought to be Trinity House. Started by Henry VIII in 1514, the charity still supports and maintains lighthouses and lightships around the English and Welsh coasts. It is also my employer (although I don’t get paid). Seven years ago, when I moved to the Suffolk coast, I saw an advertisement for a volunteer tour guide for Southwold Lighthouse and decided to apply while I could still make the stairs (113).

As a tour guide, I tell the visitors all about the massive changes to lighthouse technology over the centuries. The first lights were oil lamps until, starting in the second half of the 19th century, they slowly began shifting to electricity – and, eventually, put lighthousekeepers out of a job. The UK’S last manned lighthouse closed in 1998. Southwold has been electric since 1938, and now we have a monster “Dalek” LED light, which shines 24 nautical miles out into the North Sea shipping lanes.

Five years ago a government review considered whether modern developments have made lighthouses an expensive irrelevance, but the decision was made to keep them – and it was the right one, because the truth is that we love them. They attract storytellers and film-makers. Lighthousekeepers, especially those on the rock lighthouses out at sea, are considered heroes – brave and romantic loners.

I first fell in love with lighthouses when I travelled down the Oregon coast in the USA. Providing the perfect punctuation to the wild, curvy beaches, were sturdy, ice-white lighthouses, proudly restored and maintained.

If you are out on a small boat, satnav or GPS is fallible, but a lighthouse is totally reliable and massively reassuring. You know exactly where you are, because each has its own “characteristic” – the timing and nature of its light, which differs from others nearby. Southwold has been blazing out its beam of FLW10S (flashing white every 10 seconds) since 1890.

So, bell or foghorn? Every change provides furious debate, and if I lived in Anglesey, of course I’d be incensed by the introduction of a foghorn. But the most important thing is that the light is still shining. And while, inside, our lighthouses might be bristling with modern technology, outside, they haven’t changed a bit.

Like old trees, we want to hug them, as they beam benevolently into the dark seas, marking our coasts like guardian angels. Long may they continue.