Bill Arnold
This interview was conducted in Bill’s living-room, in the keeper’s cottage at Pendeen lighthouse, Cornwall, where he now lives with his wife.
My first 18 months as a SNK - which really youre just a dogsbody, you get sent wherever they want you to go, filling in for whoever’s sick or what ever, erm… I went all over the place. And I was seriously considering packing it in cause I was getting no time at home to see the Missus and kids. If they hadn't found me a permanent station when they did, after about 18 months I probably would have packed it in, but the found me a position as an assistant LHK on south bishop, which is off Milhaven, cause then you were doing month on / month off which was completely acceptable. But if that vacancy hadn't have come up when it did I probably would have packed it in cause it was causing such a strain on my marriage, and my kids were looking at me and saying 'who are you dad?' [laughs]
So your early experience of keeping was a bit shaky?
Yeah, I mean, I was lucky in that the 1st 3 weeks lighthouse keeping I did was at Trevose with a chap called Terry Johns, who was, and still is, a lovely bloke - showed me the ropes, so I was very lucky. At that time there were one or two miserable old buggers who were lighthouse keepers, luckily I didn't come across them straight away, you know if I had’ve done I would've packed it in there and then.
Tell us about the advent of automaton in the service.
Automation started to come in in the... in the mid 80s I suppose, but it didn't really kick in until the 90s. that's really when it got into full swing. When the first 1 or two stations were automated nobody worried about it, or it didn't bother anyone. It was a slow process. It was taking 23 years to automate a station, so people didn't bother. But once they got there act together, and got an automation team together they were automating lighthouses in 3-6 months, well, then the jobs were going.
Did they have helicopters when you started in the service?
When I first started, no. In the mid 70s it was mainly boats, but they were bringing in helicopters. Wolf rock was the first one they put a helipad on. And then once they’d done that an’ it was working ok, they started putting helipads on all the others.
But, I actually did boat reliefs on wolf rock. It was… different, yeah. The first time I went to Eddystone when I was an SNK, that was still boat relief. Did 2 boat- reliefs on the Eddystone, and then when I went to Wolf Rock, still as a SN, the helicopter couldn't fly cause of fog, so that was boat relief. And then when I was stationed on Wolf Rock we did 2 or 3 boat reliefs because of fog.
Swinging on the rope with just a shoulder harness and a toe lope, well it was a bit scary, a bit hairy, and winter time you could get seriously wet. [Laughs]
Tell us how a boat-relief would work?
On the Bishop it was done with rope and pulley. On the Wolf, you had a station post which was fixed permanently into the granite, like a little key that comes out from the tower, and then stored inside the tower were stainless steel arms which were telescopic - well, when I say telescopic, you'd fit 3 sections on to one-another, that fitted onto the base pole (hand gestures) and then you had ropes and tackles that fitted onto the top. And then you'd have a jack roll at the bottom an’ you swung that out with a rope hole down to the boat, then they'd get in the harness - then you’d wind them up and swung them in board.
It would take - a good crew could rig the landing on the Wolf in about 20 minutes. Then you’d do the relief, whatever stores needed landing, then you'd de-rig the landing. So a relief you could do in an hour on the Wolf, an’ you'd do it at low water. ‘Cause even at low water sometimes you'd get sea running and one person would always be designated to keep an eye on the sea so that whilst you were doing a relief, if a sea came, you'd get washed right off it.
He'd shout 'sea!' and you'd all drop what you were doing and just run. There was like a big metal cone with handholds in it, and you'd just run for that and grab hold and the sea would come and just run right over the landing. As soon as it were gone you'd get back down and just carry on with what you were doing you didn't even think about it, it was just part of the job.
What was the system of promotion in the service?
Well, there was supposedly a sort of system where when you were first appointed AK [Assistant Keeper], you were usually appointed to a tower offshore, and after 2-3 years, if there was a vacancy, you could apply for an island station. Some of the island stations, I mean; caskets, round island on the Scililys, Scocum off the welsh coast, I mean, lovely stations to be on ‘cause you could get out, wonder about, all the rest of it. Then after you've done time on them, and you wanted a land station, and there was a vacancy, you could apply for a land station. Then as time went on, and you were made PK [Prinicipal Keeper], you were usually made PK back on a tower again. And you went through the same process.
What was your favourite station?
Everybody had their own favourite stations. For island stations, Scocum and Caskets were two of the best stations around. Erm - towers. Not everybody could get on with towers, not everybody liked them. [Tower stations are off-shore, built on rocky outcrops]. Wolf Rock was the worst one to be on weather-wise y'know. You had the sea pounding over the top and all of the rest of it. Wasn't everyone’s cup of tea. But I enjoyed it. It really depended on the men you were with. If you were with a coupl’a blokes that were good - you know, enjoyed having a laugh and a joke an’ that - great, the time would fly by. If you were with someone who was always thinking about home, down in the dumps - no good at all.
Which were the best tower lighthouses?
Bishop rock. Bishop was taller than most of them, and had an extra floor. Now that extra floor might not mean much to someone who’s not a lighthouse keeper, but that extra floor meant you had somewhere where you could get away from one another.
Instead of everyone being sat in the kitchen all the time staring at each other, you had an extra room where you could go and read or just be away from one another. So the bishop rock, as towers went, was probably one of the best.
What qualities do you need as a lighthouse keeper?
You've got to be able to... be happy with yourself. Just be affable. Not wanting to do everything your way. You know, if somebody says; do you mind doin’ this? You say ‘yes'... being able to muck in. You've gotta be able to get on with people. Luckily I’ve always been that sort of person. Little things that might annoy other people don't get to me, just washes over my head
When I joined, offshore, you did communal cooking, which meant every 3rd day when you had the morning watch, you were the cook for the day. So the night before, two other keepers would put out what meat they wanted, and you provided the veg, and then you all sat down at about 1 o'clock and had your big meal for the day.
Gradually over time, as lads came in who were vegans or vegetarians, that all went out the window. So, everybody ended up cooking for themselves. So that, to my mind, virtually became the end of lighthouse cooking. Because all cooking for yourselves, you were in the kitchen at different times, there wasn't that communal feeling you had when you were all sat down together.... Time marches on, and things change.
Were you able to entertain yourselves out on station for two months?
Oh yeah, yeah. I mean - fishing – kite-fishing, what have you. Other people did knitting - knitting jumpers, other people made things, models in bottles things like that. My own thing, ‘cause I was quite gregarious, was to chat on the CB radio. ‘Cause in the late 70s early 80s CB radio was the thing. Everybody used to chat, we had an aerial on the tower at the wolf rock, and I used to chat to people up as far as Plymouth because over the water you had a pretty good range, and that was fun. Oh yeah, everybody and his brother had a CB radio, and as soon as they knew you were a LHK everybody wanted to chat to you.
They already had TV on most of the stations when I joined, all be it black and white. Some stations, whoever was keeper of the day would have the choice of what was on the television, which was a fair way of doings things. Otherwise if one person hogged the bloody thing... I was on one station once where they did nothing but watch soaps, soaps from bloody morning until night, I mean it used to drive me crackers. My Missus laughs at me now ‘cause I wont watch soaps. But when you've had ‘em stuffed down your throat for weeks on end, it used to drive me mad. Civilised way of doing things was - what do you wanna watch, consensus - then you’d watch it.
If you wanted time alone you’d go up in the lantern and listen to the radio. Or, the favourite thing was, providing the weather was alright, was goin’ up on the helipad, and just walking round and round the helipad, thinking about anything, you know - whatever goes into your mind. It was form of exercise as well, but it also got you away from the other two blokes.
So did you ever get sick of each other?
I always thought that first week on you told each other all your news, 2nd week on you told each other all yer jokes, 3rd week you were beginning to get on each others nerves, by the end of the 4th week you could have cheerfully strangled each other, and within an hour of coming ashore you were all in the pub having a beer together. Even with the best crew there was you could easily get on each others tits.
Did you see some bad storms in your time?
You got plenty of bad storms. Yeah. We were on Bishop Rock and it was just after Christmas, between Christmas and new year - and we had a southerly storm. You don't get many southerlies, but this was a really bad southerly storm. And it was blowing 10, 11, hurricane force at times, for about 3 days.
When the sea hits the bottom of the tower, the tower trembles like that [gestures]. Tower’s been there hundred odd years, it’s seen a lot of storms, you don't worry about it. This particular time the sea hit the tower and it trembled - it would tremble for about 4-5 seconds you know. Whilst it was trembling we got hit by a second sea. And it didn't tremble - it bloody shook.
The alarm started going off - we thought, Christ, what’s going on here? Ran up the tower, into the lantern. The lens on the Bishop was a five ton lens - similar to that [the lens in the tower outside Bill’s home, where the interview was conducted – Pendeen, Cornwall]. And it floats on mercury. The shaking of the tower had shook the mercury out of the trough, so the lantern was awash with mercury.
We went back downstairs, put our spacesuits on, masks, all the gear for recovering mercury. And we were literally sweeping the mercury into the dustpan - I mean we were literally pouring mercury in an enamel bucket until we had half a bucketful. Then we got some muslin cloth and put it into the filler, and poured the mercury back into the trough - to clean out the mercury that had any crap in it, so that the lens would lift off the rollers, because the lens was running round on the rollers, which slowed it down, so you were getting a false light.
We were literally cleaning up mercury for about four days, and luckily the relief was due so we all went ashore and they sent some specialist cleaners to come and clean up the mercury. Even with our space suits and all the rest of it we came ashore and had to give urine samples, and all 3 of us were up in the 200s... and it took us a year to get our mercury levels down to about 30, which was the normal level.
You always watched the weather cause you always wanted to know how the weather would be around relief time - were you gonna get ashore or not. I mean, you watched the weather just cause it was something you did.
What do you miss about lighthouse keeping?
It just came to me, the thing that I missed, it hadn't really struck me - was the actual sound of the sea lapping against the tower. Whilst you’re out there, its there all the time, and I’d just forgotten about it you know…
What were the smells on the lighthouse?
You've always got the smell of diesel, always. Diesel and oil. And you don't notice it, ‘cause you’re living with it. But every time I went ashore my Missus would say, God! Your uniform stinks! And I’d have to put my uniform in the dry cleaners ‘cause it was just impregnated with the smell of diesel.
The other thing was… the Bishop was alright, we had a proper toilet. When we were on the Wolf we had a portapotty - right, so, you go to the loo – it’s just like a caravan toilet, and every day you had to empty it. It was literally pickin’ the non-windy side of the lighthouse and pouring it away.
So there was nothing romantic about being a lighthouse keeper, I can assure you.... Some people it did go wrong ‘cause they didn't pick the right side to throw it!
(chuckles).
Did you ever get cabin fever?
I didn't realise it at the time – I’ve realised it now - but first few days ashore when I came ashore, I used to run around like a headless chicken, I did. You know, I’d wanna be in the pub, I’d wanna be – I’d just wanna be with people, really, that what it was I ‘spose. Maybe that was me, I don’t know.
I’ve always liked the company of people, but having said that I’m quite happy by myself you know... bit of both you know – Gemini, see!
[Laughs]
I was never lonely - yes obviously, you miss the Missus and the kids an’ that, but I was never lonely. I mean you've always got two other blokes there, and perhaps I was lucky, but most of the blokes I was with were good blokes and we'd have a good laugh an’ that - we were always playing cards or doing something that would occupy our time.
Towers were supposed to be no alcohol, but there’s no way that anyone can survive out there without some alcohol. I used to drink, I still do drink, red wine, an I would take a 3L box of wine out with me - just enough to have a couple of glasses every evening, just sit there and chill out.
And after a fortnight, when the helicopter would come again - because when they brought the helicopters there would be a relief every 2 weeks, so two of you would be together the whole month, and you’d do a fortnight with one bloke, then he'd go ashore an you’d do a fortnight with the next bloke.
And the bloke who was coming on would ring up the night before, when he was staying in Penzance or Swansea or wherever - and say ‘anything you want?'
And the password was ‘yes, we'll have a bottle of medicine'. [Laughs] And he'd bring out a fresh 3 litre box of wine an’ you know... great.
An’ sometimes, especially on the Wolf, if you had extra bodies out there with you, like mechanics or electricians, they used to have a rum bottle - which was the station rum bottle, which you weren't supposed to touch, it was there for emergencies. Well funnily enough we used to have an emergency at least once a month. [Laughs] And you'd have a few tots of rum, an’ he'd ring up, and we'd say ‘we need to replenish supplies – an’ then stick the new bottle of rum in the cupboard.
Did you go out on the helipad much?
Wolf Rock, not really - when we were on Bishop Rock, because the tower’s so tall, we actually took a windbreaker - you know, a beach windbreaker - out with us. And we'd peg that in the helipad. And get down behind it - nude sunbathing! ‘Cause no-one’s gonna see you up there!
[laughing]
How do you reflect on lighthouse keeping?
I mean... it was a way of life - and I mean, some of the poor buggers have never worked since. Whether they couldn't fit in to a normal way of working I don't know. You know, a lot of ‘em have died. Pretty soon there wont be any of ‘em around I don't think.
…I‘m still, to all intents and purposes, a lighthouse keeper. Not doing any watches or anything like that. But I still look after the lighthouse, I can still fire up the old fog signal, so I’ve got the good bits of lighthouse keeping, without the hassle.
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