IMAGINE a towering lighthouse perched on a rock, standing alone three kilometres in the raging sea off today's Seal Rocks, north of Newcastle.
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Its giant Cyclops eye would gently rotate, sweeping the ocean darkness, warning mariners of inshore danger. But could it ever have been built strong enough to withstand the fury of storms? Probably not. Likely it would have been a massive, costly mistake. So, luckily, it was never built.
But, in 1873, the NSW Maritime Board seriously considered the idea. The rocky islands and reefs here had long been a significant danger to navigation. Fears mounted daily of yet another ship crashing into jagged rocks in the dark. What finally scuppered the proposal was that the Marine Board members simply couldn't land on the rocky offshore island to assess its potential. Instead, it was decided to build a coastal beacon, not at the northernmost rock beloved by a colony of fur seals, but ashore nearby atop Sugarloaf Point, named earlier by explorer Matthew Flinders.
An initial surprise to some though was that the lighthouse, opened in 1875, stood only 49 feet (15 metres) tall. But it didn't have to be tall because of the extreme cliff height where it was finally erected. Each night, the modern light, about 79 metres above sea level, now flashes every 7.5 seconds, seen 46 kilometres out to sea.
To see this scenic gem today you have to travel about 140 kilometres from Newcastle on the Pacific Highway and then via The Lakes Way. Turn off at Bungwahl to go 11 kilometres south-east and you'll reach the fishing hamlet of Seal Rocks between Bulahdelah and Forster.
Sugarloaf Point lighthouse, made of rendered brick and painted white, is also remarkably historic. All building material was shipped from Sydney then offloaded onto a nearby Seal Rocks jetty (now gone) and taken uphill, hauled through bush and sand dunes by bullocks 149 years ago.
To get there today, you travel through Seal Rocks village itself, then past two beaches. Above the second, or Boat Beach, is a retro coffee caravan called Single Fin beside a large, lantern capsule. Incredibly, it's described as being a Bass Strait light beacon, washed up on a nearby beach and repurposed as a gimmick.
Close by is the Seal Rocks post office/general store where, high up there's a sculpture of a sailfish. Perhaps it's a nod to ages ago when sailfish and marlin were brought ashore at boat beach as trophies before deep-sea game fishermen adopted a tag-and-release program.
Around here there's also a plaque honouring the rescue of 37 false killer whales that had beached themselves on Lighthouse Beach back in July 1992. Less well known perhaps is that there have been at least six mass wildlife strandings locally since 1949.
Then the visitor drives pass a boat with a 'Jaws' motif and flying a pirate flag. This is definitely not normal suburbia.
Leave your car at the Kinka Road carpark. Walk about 750 metres under a forested canopy, skirting two spectacular ocean chasms where the waves boom through fissures. Trek up a final, steep 100 metre path to the top where it's windswept and brooding.
Sugarloaf (or the Seal Rocks light) was the first in a series of lighthouses designed by famous colonial architect James Barnet. His unique style makes the lighthouses instantly recognisable. Others include Smoky Cape, Green Cape, Point Perpendicular and Barrenjoey. The idea was to have a highway of coastal lights warning mariners of imminent danger. It was a major 30-year program.
Despite the Sugarloaf Point light being lit in 1875, up to 20 ships were later wrecked around Seal Rocks. A map on the summit shows 29 shipwrecks overall. Another estimate is 31 wrecks, including a beached Dutch submarine in 1945.
The most famous wrecks were the big steamers Satara (in 1910) and the Catterthun (in 1895) with the loss of 55 lives. The recovery of most of its rich hoard of 9000 gold sovereigns required divers to work at a depth of 60 metres, reportedly making it then one of the deepest salvage operations in the world.
These days the lighthouse, like all Australia's other 55 sites, is de-manned with access restricted. Once there were three light keepers manning the light on four-hour shifts from dusk to dawn. They're now long gone, but their restored cottages are available to rent. Today the site is listed on the state heritage register. The light tower is also highly unusual in being one of a few in the nation featuring an external spiral staircase.
While the light was eventually automated in 1997, it is regarded as a rare and outstanding example of 19th century industrial technology. The impressive, multifaceted lens, in fact, is the original one installed in 1875.
Before the lighthouse was converted to electricity in 1966, the lantern within was fed by a pressurised kerosene lamp. That meant a light keeper's work was never done.
Besides ensuring the ocean lamp never went out, tower painting and general duties, there was once an odd, but crucial, chore to perform. The kerosene vapour in the lamp room would cause a thin film to build up on the surface of the reflectors overnight so all these needed to be thoroughly cleaned.
There's many more such secrets to the site though which is the main reason why I recently visited Seal Rocks. Here I was hoping to finally track down a former lighthouse keeper who once ran a special museum, now in storage, up there.
Years ago, author Peter Hill had told me he'd been trying to track down one of the last keepers in Australia to include in a new book. He'd seen a documentary of a keeper playing a saxophone and then surfing naked into the horizon. Hill thought the man was an Adelaide-based 'wickie', but then he found him at Sugarloaf Point instead.
Sadly, apparently the book never eventuated. Meanwhile, the former keeper is still around doing amazing work having reinvented himself with a new career maintaining remote de-manned lights, including tower waterproofing, all around the nation.
And life's never dull. Returning from a late-night swim only a few years ago up the NSW north coast he was stunned to see a mature koala scaling an insulated pipe to the top of a light tower, then make a ruckus in the lantern room 56 feet (17 metres) up.
The caretaker climbed the spiral staircase, grabbed the wandering marsupial and returned her to the bush. Even for him, used to bizarre situations for decades, it was a first.
