There’s an optical illusion that few ever see beneath the 147-year-old lens and clockwork mechanism inside the Point Reyes Lighthouse.
In the middle of the room that sits below the lens room, two white support beams stand a few feet apart. To the naked eye, they appear to be angled away from each other; in fact, they’re perfectly parallel.
The multi-sided room provides the trick.
“We call it the ‘Point Reyes Mystery Spot,’” said Peter Crook, a Berkeley resident who maintains the historic lighthouse with two other volunteers. “But the park service hasn’t bought into our idea for producing bumper stickers like in Santa Cruz just yet.”
On a recent Tuesday morning, Mr. Crook and the rest of the so-called lighthouse volunteer corps, Mike Warren and Bill Anderson, descended the 308 steps to the lighthouse. The crew has gathered there for two hours every other week for the last four years to lubricate and rotate the clockwork mechanism that drives the light.
Though the lighthouse is no longer active—now, an external light and fog horn installed by the Coast Guard act as beacons for ships—it’s illuminated for interpretative tours during summer months. Following an upcoming renovation project, it may see increased activity.
Designed by the French company Barbier & Fenestre, the clockwork mechanism uses a crankshaft that lowers a weight down a 17-foot chute. As the weight rises back up, the gradual lift generates a force that rotates the gears in a grandfather clock-like fashion to spin a 6,000-pound, first-order Fresnel lens.
One revolution was designed to take two minutes, creating the lighthouse’s signature pattern of one flash every five seconds.
The original mechanism, built around 1867, is still intact, save for a few bolts here and there. Countless lighthouse keepers, park curators, docents and volunteers have preserved the delicate gears, shafts and plates over the years, but there is little to no record of the methods of maintenance.
The current volunteers use a HOBO data logger to record the humidity and temperature inside the building to keep it from rusting (a lightbulb is always on to keep the moisture down). Instead of the expensive clock oil gingerly applied by their predecessors, the volunteers now use a liberal amount of high-viscosity motor oil called Valvoline SAE 50 VR1; it costs a few bucks a quart, compared to the nearly $30 per small bottle of clock oil.
Besides polishing the shafts, sheaves and wheel track every two weeks, the corps sets semi-monthly and annual goals, such as greasing the chariot wheels, clutch plate, bull gear pinion and governor rod. They sign and date an orderly run sheet that documents the completion of each item.
These processes were their creation, and their maintenance hasn’t gone unnoticed by Carola DeRooy, the park’s museum collections manager and their boss.
“Their skills and knowledge brought issues to light of things that needed care,” Ms. DeRooy said. “Some of the things we had in the curator’s manual were not accurate and they took it upon themselves to do a series of reports.”
The park service recognized the corps last year with a volunteer of the year award, but the volunteers are more interested in being another cog in a twirling machine that spans centuries.
After lubing the clockwork mechanism to greasy glory last month, it was time to light her up. Mr. Warren cranked the weight as Mr. Anderson guided it down the chute (one of the two white poles in the mystery spot below).
Mr. Crook clicked on a stopwatch to time the slow rotation—that day, a minute and 57 seconds.
“Not bad!” he yelled.
The mechanism began to gently run counter-clockwise and the gold-plated parts reflected beams of light like an industrial age carousel.
Lighthouse keepers, or “wickies”—as in candlewicks—led a lonely life here 100 years ago. The constant two-hour winding of the mechanism, from sundown to sunrise, was demanding. Alcoholism and boredom were the norm.
Today, however, the three men who maintain the station couldn’t be happier.
Printed on the wall next to the “mystery spot” are the words: “To keep the light burning, the lighthouse keeper endured taxing labor, loneliness, monotony and the worst weather conditions.”
“Yup,” Mr. Crook said, laughing. “That pretty much sums it up.”