330 Steps But Who's Counting?

We were.

 They loom, don't they?  Especially going up.

Yesterday we drove out to the point of Point Reyes--us and all the out-of-state tourists freezing in the fog and stiff breeze--and walked the steps down to the lighthouse and BACK UP.

I've done this only once before, when I was considerably younger, but this seemed to me one more of Jerry's let's-prove-we're-not-that-old challenges, so we did it. 

The weather was clear in Inverness when we left on our drive but quite foggy at the Point:

Going down the steps to the lighthouse was easy, and the lighthouse and a couple of other buildings are open to the public.

Built low on the rocks so its signal wouldn't be obscured by fog

The lighthouse keepers were isolated and hard-working, which led to escapes to town to get drunk.  Sometimes they drowned on the way back to the lighthouse.

January 30, 1889:  Who would not go crazy?

That many consecutive days of fog would drive anyone mad.

Afterward, we stopped by the tiny Park Service Visitors Center and chatted with the ranger on duty.  She lives out there in a building I've always thought looked a bit grim (is her fridge full of alcohol?):

Stuck out on a foggy point, miles from town

She said, no, "it was cool," although she had only two neighbors and hardly ever saw them.  She assured me that she had a car (see photo, above).  The old-time ligh keepers had to endure a long horseback ride into town.

Historic photo of the lighthouse down on the rocks (center/right) and the steps leading up to what's now the Visitor's Center (upper center)

We climbed on our horse (Subaru) and rode back into Inverness, where it was clear and warm. I deadheaded Elisabeth's dahlias, and then we went off to town to buy more ice cream.  (Weight????)