Terrible Tilly: The Lonely Beacon That Defied Hell Itself

A Stormy Night on the Rock

By early January 1881, construction on the Tillamook Rock Lighthouse was nearly complete. The night was dark and stormy.

The still unlit stone tower loomed in the fog and lashing rain. H.S. Wheeler, the superintendent of construction, and his crew were huddled in their rudimentary barracks, resting after a long day of backbreaking labor.

While land was only a little over a mile away, the men might as well have been on another planet. As the wind howled and the barracks creaked, Wheeler noticed a new sound in the cacophony of nature’s fury.

He stepped outside and he listened. From somewhere in the darkness came the shouts of panicked men.

It was the sounds of a ship in peril blown dangerously off course. Wheeler sprang into action.

He ordered his men to place a bright lantern in the unfinished tower and light bonfires on the rock. They would do anything to warn the wayward vessel, but the sounds persisted.

The agony of near certain death rang through the night. For just a moment, the lights of the ship emerged from the fog, only a couple hundred meters away.

But soon the lights faded and the voices went silent. The next morning, the sea was littered with debris and bodies.

The Graveyard of the Pacific

Marred by tragedy, the light at Tillamook Rock came too late to save the crew of the Lupesia. But it was more clear than ever why a beacon was needed on that desolate rock in the middle of the roaring sea.

The Columbia River Bar is one of the deadliest bar crossings in the world. Coming in at around three miles wide and six miles long, the system of bars and shoals has claimed thousands of ships.

The river’s current moves between four and seven knots, shooting into the sea like a fire hose. Combined with unpredictable weather, surface conditions can change in an instant, throwing even larger vessels off course.

Even in the best of weather, the bar is extremely treacherous. From the early days of exploration, mariners referred to the area as the graveyard of the Pacific.

As Oregon and Washington grew, towns like Portland began to prosper. The Columbia River became a vital link to California in the south and Seattle and British Columbia to the north.

Just finding the Columbia River Bar proved difficult. Mariners would sail up and down the coast searching for the elusive entrance.

Once it was found, ships would often drop anchor for days waiting for the right conditions to cross. Native guides would paddle out to ships in canoes and offer their help navigating the deadly bar in exchange for valuable goods.

Searching for a Site

Finally, in 1865, the first lighthouse was built at the north end of the bar in the Washington territory on a hill called Cape Disappointment. Another lighthouse was erected at the south end on the Oregon side called Point Adams Light in 1875.

While the mouth of the Columbia was now properly marked at both ends, it was still difficult to locate. It was quickly decided that another lighthouse was needed.

In 1878, Congress appropriated $50,000 for a first-class lighthouse to facilitate navigation on the northern Oregon coast. This light was intended to mark the approach to the Columbia River Bar.

The initial plan was to build the new light on Tillamook Head, a high promontory approximately 20 miles south of the bar. Located between Seaside and Cannon Beach, the heavily forested bluff reaches 1,200 feet in elevation.

For thousands of years, it created a natural barrier between the Clatsop tribe to the north and the Tillamook tribe to the south. But as surveyors passed through the thick Sitka spruce and alders, it became clear the site was less than ideal.

The promontory was almost always shrouded in fog. Any light at the summit would be nearly impossible to spot from the sea.

Another site closer to the sea was selected to the south, but the remote point required the building of a 20-mile access road with numerous switchbacks. This would push the project far over budget.

A surveyor scanned the highlands looking for a solution. Someone noticed a large high rock sitting about a mile offshore from the head.

Taming Terrible Tilly

Before the rock could even be properly surveyed, it was decided that it would be the perfect location for the new light. In retrospect, the road probably would have been a better option.

The land at Tillamook Head was deemed surplus and was eventually turned into Ecola State Park, one of the best parks in Oregon. Even after Tillamook Rock was selected, months of bad weather made it impossible for any surveyors to reach the rock.

Finally, in 1879, H.S. Wheeler was appointed by the Lighthouse Board to serve as superintendent of construction. He was sent to Astoria with orders not to return until he finally surveyed the rock.

After weeks of waiting for a window of clear weather, they got their window. Wheeler chartered the 140-foot revenue cutter Thomas Corwin on June 22nd, 1879, and they set out for the rock.

As the ship approached, it seemed that the weather would hold up. A surf boat was launched and a crew rowed to the east side shore.

Two men made it onto the rock, but before they could even get their bearings or take out their survey equipment, the weather shifted. The surf boat was pushed away as larger and larger waves broke over the rock.

Over and over again they tried to get close enough to rescue the two men, but the coming storm kept them away. It was clear that things were only going to get worse.

Finally, the two men decided that the only way off the rock was to take their chances and jump. They landed in the cold roaring sea and mustered all of their might to swim out to the waiting surfboat.

Fortunately, they made it. From that day on, the men began referring to the rock as Terrible Tilly.

On June 26th, 1879, Wheeler made another attempt. While the weather was less than ideal, the surveyor managed to get a foothold on the rock.

The waves were too intense to bring his equipment ashore, but he was able to do some basic measurements and record the brutal nature of the isolated outcrop. He noted that the rock was crowded with sea lions.

Before European settlement, both the Clatsop and Tillamook tribes visited the rock to gather bird eggs and hunt sea lions for their meat and hides. Wheeler thought that the wildlife and abundant fishing and crabbing would be good for future keepers.