I walked to Tater Du. I walked to Trevose Head. I swam to Godrevey. I stared out towards Longships. I sailed to St Anthonys. I drove to Pendeen. I chanced upon Lizard Lights. We anchored near Smeatons. We bottled out of siling to Eddiston. The Gribbin was almost invisible in the mist.
Although it was all the wrong way round. I found the collection of postcards before I set about visiting each destination. The collection of postcards of lighthouses, unsent, no messages, unstamped was the beginning of my journey around all the lighthouses off the Cornish coast. I walked, sailed and swam around them. Watched and waited until it got dark to see there lights, each with there own unique light and rhythm. (should this be their or there?)
Having grown up within earshot of St Anthonys lights (remember fragile rock) and with the heroic story of Grace Darling the daughter of a lighthouse keeper going out into the storm to rescue the shipwrecked sailor. The automation of lighthouses has taken an element of hope away from the beacon of light at sea. Once it meant someone was there. Now it is just a light.