The Great PNW Lighthouse Quest
The true story of a real quest
Dear Kula Diaries,
When my husband quit his 16 year job with the railroad, we did something that felt very exciting… and a bit daring. Without any consideration for whether or not it was a good idea, we went out and bought four motorcycles. Have you ever done something that defied all conventional logic… except that you knew it was the right thing to do? That’s how we felt about the motorcycles. The rational part of my brain was screaming: NO, THIS IS COMPLETELY RIDICULOUS AND IRRESPONSIBLE… but my heart was saying something very different.
Aaron and I had spent nearly a decade working long shifts… and when I left my job to start Kula Cloth, our already conflicting schedules became even worse. The ‘time’ that we spent together was comprised mostly of discussions about making breakfast and packing lunches. Working nightshift, Aaron was a zombie on most days… and I was occupied with the overwhelming task of trying to nurture my fledgling company to life. We were not even like ships passing in the night — because we rarely even passed.
And so, when Aaron left his job, we knew that something had to change. We had hiked and climbed mountains together for a long time… and we wanted something new. Surprisingly, we had both ridden motorcycles… but never together, so the excitement was palpable as we began to envision the adventures that we could embark upon together on two wheels.
When you do something new… when you open yourself up to the possibilities of life… everything changes. Suddenly, you have shifted the entire time-space continuum to be in an entirely new place, where you would never have been before if you hadn’t done that thing you decided to do. And so, when we purchased our motorcycles and started riding together… while we had envisioned having lots of fun, we never imagined that this adventure would lead us on a quest that would change our lives.
In July of 2023, I was having a tough time. I eluded to some of the events of 2023 in an earlier post, but without sharing any specific details, let’s just say that my life as a supervisor had been flipped upside down… I was out of my league… lost, and not sure what to do. As much as I meditated, I struggled to quiet my mind… except when I was on the motorcycle. On a motorcycle, you don’t have a choice — you simply must be present. As soon as you begin to glide over the pavement… worries and fears and doubts have a way of simply slipping away. Suddenly, you’re feeling the wind and you’re flying — quickly, you reconnect with a feeling of freedom that you’ve forgotten. It was on these short motorcycle trips that I retained the shred of sanity that I was desperately clinging to.
One weekend, Aaron and I decided to go on an overnight motorcycle trip to Vashon Island — a small island that sits in the Puget Sound. On a beautiful sunny day, we rode to the ferry in West Seattle and rode across the sound to the beautiful and quiet island of Vashon. Our lodge check in wasn’t until the afternoon, so we decided to do some sightseeing — and I really wanted to visit Point Robinson Lighthouse, a small light on the east side of Maury Island.
We arrived at the gravel parking lot and hiked in our bulky motorcycle gear towards the small, picturesque lighthouse. Little did I know that our lives were about to take a dramatic and unexpected turn.
Inside the lighthouse, we were warmly met by a man named Captain Joe — we were immediately taken in by his kind words and captivating stories. We stayed in the lighthouse for over an hour talking to Captain Joe — somehow, I ended up telling him all about Kula Cloth… and even presenting him with a Kula Cloth, which he told me that he’d share on his weekly radio program called, From The Captain’s Chair. As we were about to leave the lighthouse, he handed us a large map that was covered with images of lighthouses from all over Western Washington. Each lighthouse was accompanied by an adjacent ‘blank space’ — where a passport stamp could be added, to show that the lighthouse had been visited. Captain Joe looked at us seriously, and gave us an official command, “Go visit all of these lighthouses and come back and see me in December to show me the map.” When you receive an order from a Coast Guard Captain — you listen to it. I nodded in acceptance of my orders and Aaron and I left Point Robinson feeling invigorated by our newly assigned task: we would visit every single lighthouse on the map.
Captain Joe had absolutely no idea what was going on in my life at the time… he knew absolutely nothing about the anxiety and helplessness that I was feeling. And yet, maybe he could sense it. Maybe there is just a type of person that you meet, and you instinctually know, “This person needs to go on a quest.”
Aaron and I embarked upon The Great PNW Lighthouse Quest almost immediately. During the week, I felt somewhat disoriented and lost… but on the weekends, we had a mission: we had a lot of lighthouses to visit. As we visited the lighthouses, I wrote e-mails back and forth to Captain Joe to keep him updated on our progress. Through these messages, I learned a lot of things about Captain Joe: That there is a glacier named after him in Antarctica… that he was the Coast Guard Captain of an Icebreaker … the he retired from the Coast Guard as the Chief of Ice Operations, which gave him oversight over the Arctic, Antarctic and the American Great Lakes.… that he obtained his master’s degree from Cambridge University at the age of 62 and that there is a room named after him in the Shackleton Library. But, more than that, I began to see that Captain Joe — more than memories and experiences — was a collector of people… and that, I, in the most fortunate turn of events in a benevolent and loving universe… had somehow found my way into his crew.
Aaron and I continued The Great PNW Lighthouse Quest into December of last year. We brought our instruments to Vashon Island for the Point Robinson Christmas Party to perform Christmas Carols and to show Captain Joe our nearly finished map. During the holiday season last year, I was in the middle of attempting to navigate both holiday sales and the scam artist that I mentioned last week… but we still had to visit the last three lighthouses on our list: Grayland Lighthouse, North Head Lighthouse, and the Cape Disappointment Lighthouse. We decided to visit all three lighthouses in the same day… and to combine the visit with a few days on the Oregon Coast.
As we approached the final lighthouse on our quest — the Cape Disappointment Lighthouse — we passed by a Coast Guard facility, and I couldn’t help but think about what Captain Joe had told me about this particular spot. He had said, “In the meantime, you may want to add a visit to the Motor Lifeboat School, where we train coxswains to handle the surfboats. We use the Columbia River Bar, which is arguably the worst in the world.” Captain Joe had explained the ‘river bar’ to me at great lengths — the place where the massive Columbia River meets the ocean — a constant collision of current, wind and waves that is so treacherous that only certified pilots can take ships from the ocean into the river. Of course, what struck me most about this training is something that I know from my own time as both a Park Ranger and a Railroad Police Officer: you train in tough conditions so that when things do get rough, you can handle it.
My own ‘river bar’ did not have 40 foot swells or treacherous currents… but it did feel that way at times. And yet, amidst the storm — I held on, and I looked for the things that were beacons of light in the darkness. And do you know what? There were so many things. Each actual lighthouse we visited reminded me that the light was not a place that arrived that when things were perfect and smooth — instead, the light was there during times of chaos and storm… the light was there, because I continued to look for it… and find it.
When the dust settled, when the seas were calm, and when all of the lighthouses had been visited… stillness arrived again, but it was richer than it had been before… not because things were now ‘good’ — but because the experience of the storm had given me new insights into what really matters in this world: love, forgiveness, and being kind to others. Just as the Coast Guard trains in the roughest weather to become better… so too, was I made better by braving rough and previously uncharted territories.
Over the past year, my friendship with Captain Joe has continued to bloom. Captain Joe is one of those rare individuals that knows what it means to support a friend — he is one of those rare humans who makes you a better person by simply being in his presence. He writes his messages to me in ‘Captain’s dialect’ — often using references to the sea and to being on a ship. Captain Joe has noticed that he and I both suffer from the same conundrum: having a very full ‘dance card’ — in other words, overextending ourselves and attempting to do far too much. And yet, he is the type of man who showed up for my Benaroya Hall Concert last year to hear The Musical Mountaineers perform… and he’s the type of friend who is driving from his home to attend my upcoming concert at REI. A few months ago, Aaron and I visited Captain Joe at his house where he entertained us with some of his best friends… and served us lobster tails and clams casino (all cooked by him).
Last weekend, I had the honor of attending Captain Joe’s 90th Birthday Party on Vashon Island, and I was even more honored to have the opportunity to perform with Aaron at this event. There were more than 150 people in attendance, and Aaron and I performed music together for about 30 minutes during dinner. For the remainder of the party, I sat at the table and attempted to hide the fact that I was profusely weeping as other people shared their own experiences of being in the life of Captain Joe. The sheer magnitude of the impact that Captain Joe has had on the lives of so many people is unfathomable. To be the type of person who has lived their life in such a way that it has deeply touched the lives of others is, indeed, a good life.
I never imagined that a 90th birthday party would be the most fun party I’ve ever attended in my life, but I’m here to say that it was. A live band closed out the evening, and everybody — including Captain Joe — danced through the very last song. As we encircled the good Captain, he danced his way around the circle … taking the time to hug each person.
I’m struck by so many things as I reflect back on the past few years — and the impossibility and improbability of it all … and yet, the absolute perfection that exists within that place of space and openness. When I bought a motorcycle, I never imagined where that adventure might lead — and I certainly couldn’t have imagined that it would end up in a friendship, like the one that I have with Captain Joe. How is it that the right people are often placed into your life at the exact time that you need them? How is it that the light always manages to reach through the murkiest depths?
The thing that surprised me the most about visiting lighthouses was learning about the light itself. In fact, the actual light bulb in a lighthouse is very small — instead, it’s the lens that surrounds that bulb that makes the light bright and visible for miles and miles. At Captain Joe’s birthday party, he stood up to make a speech and what he focused on was not his own accomplishments, but rather the ripple effect that each of us were capable of creating in our own lives. In other words: we are each a bulb of brightness, but as we share that love with others… it multiples and stretches further than we could ever reach on our own. We, as Captain Joe’s people, have been the gracious benefactor’s of his love and kindness… and yet, we each have our own ripple… our own little bulb… and the people that we touch have their own ripple… and so, on. Together, we create a powerful lens that can cut through even the darkest of days. It is our duty, he said, To bring kindness to others.
When I look at my completed lighthouse map, I no longer see the ‘bad time’ that I was experiencing during those months — instead, I see a marvelous adventure… that included everything that a good story contains: a villian, a quest, and — of course — an unexpected lesson… and the opportunity to be in the presence of a true hero. This little map guided me over choppy seas to something so much better. Amidst the tumultuous storm, I visited all of the lighthouses, but I also found something that I wasn’t expecting… a real life living and breathing lighthouse— a man with a heart so bright that it can pierce through the bleakest of days and remind even the most weary and lost traveler that the light always exists within each one of us. As Herman Melville writes, “It’s not down in any map… true places never are.”
Captain Joe: words cannot possibly express my gratitude for you… for your friendship… for your support… and for the goodness that you bring to every single life that you touch. Thank you for exemplifying what it means to serve others with kindness and love. You make all of us better people.
A few months ago, Captain Joe wrote me an e-mail that ended with the most beautiful ‘sign off’ that I’ve ever read in my life. I’ve read it over and over again since that day… and I think it’s only fitting that I include it here to share with all of you (and I am pretty sure he won’t mind me borrowing it):
With confidence that the sun will rise in the East in the morning, I touch fingertips.
This is just Beautifully written! You mentioned Captain Joe the other night we were together but I had no idea the impact. Thank you for sharing the details:)
We are happy that you came to see our Westport Lighthouse. We live on Cohassett Beach, just down the road from the lighthouse. You guys should have come by and had some tea with Sarah Lane and myself.
We truly enjoy your adventures.🙏🏼