The coastline of B.C. stretches some 27,200 Km. It's breathtakingly beautiful, rugged, and often treacherous. Up until the mid 1850's there was no form of beacon to warn a mariner of dangerous waters. It wasn't until 1859 that the first lighthouse was built, but in the next 100 years the total grew to 60. Today only 27 of these remain staffed. Life for a light keeper in those days was tough, isolated and lonely and the duties basic as compared with the range of responsibilities a keeper faces now.

Complex details of sea, sky and weather conditions are collected around the clock. Marine radio systems broadcast to the Coast Guard, mariners and pilots. Navigation courses are plotted on these changes for the safety of all who share the water. As well as these duties many stations collect information for environmental studies, and maintain sophisticated water purification and solar systems. Most lighthouses are only accessible by helicopter so all supplies must be delivered that way. This includes groceries, household and medical needs, fuel for the generators and emergency supplies for the inevitable rescues. Trips to the mainland are infrequent as are visitors to these remote places.

It takes a special kind of person to live on a lighthouse. Often keepers on very remote stations are there because they choose a solitary life. Most stations have a couple manning them, and some have families they choose to raise there. Mandatory provincial curriculum is provided for home schooling, and these children learn to be junior meteorologists early. The island is constantly alive with animals. Sea Lions bask on outcroppings and gulls scream from above as they glide on a downward draft to the beach. Porpoises, dolphins and killer whales migrate and play in these waters.

The closeness of the ocean, the camaraderie of other keepers and the coast guard are the glue for the people who have chosen this way of life. We probably don't give much thought to their existence or their purpose. They're out there, living on their secluded rock. The buildings are always red and white, and they always fly the red and white maple leaf, and that's about all we know. On a beautiful clear day the waterways are open and free to anyone who wishes to sail or go for a day trip. But in heavy skies any vessel can be at risk. It could be caught in a rip tide, thrown off course in a storm, or lost in dense fog. Brutal grey waves could send the craft on a course towards treacherous rocks. How welcoming to hear the low sustained bass of a fog horn, and to be within the long reach of the searchlight. With direction from the lighthouse keeper the Coast Guard is able to find and rescue the pleasure boat and bring it to safe harbour.

For 150 years lighthouses have been our guardians. All along the coastline they stand as impressive sentinels on craggy points or on stark islands. Maybe the reason we merely accept their existence is that we don't hear much about them in the news. We'll never hear about the disasters that were averted, or many of the successful rescues they performed. Yet there is an inherent sense of safety when we hear the fog horn or watch the slow sweep of the light cut through the thick mist on the water.

For those of us who live on Gabriola the lighthouse on Entrance Island is our guardian. She sits off the tip of Berry Point protecting the passage from the Strait of Georgia to Nanaimo and Vancouver Island. She is our friend on the water, our goal post for the annual bath tub races, our pride in the channel to visitors and locals alike, and no doubt the champion of many rescues. Like all our other lighthouses she flies the red and white maple leaf flag. Next time you pass her, raise your hand in a wave, or place it on your heart and say 'Thanks'.

On January 7th, in nasty conditions, our own Gabriola Fire Department was called out to aid in a rescue. These dedicated and hardy volunteers are "on call". We owe so much to them. Thank you for being here.