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When it was manned there was that special feeling of the island being "inhabited." Hands were always available to tend flowerbeds or to do odd jobs in off-duty hours. That was when a small group of buildings and its contents were "loved" and better looked after - with brass gleaming like treasured altar plate - than the most fastidious housewife cares for her home. Without a human presence, a lighthouse is dead.
The smell of cooking, the clink of cups, and the buzz of conversation were replaced by the silent, cadaverous chill of the tomb. Yet at times this is broken by weird insect-like noises emitted by banks of grey cabinets of electrical equipment which demand neither leave nor pensions.
In 1989, with automation, at Waglan an era had ended.
Conclusions
Some people, both visitors and lighthouse keepers, saw Waglan in the days when it was manned as a place lacking creature comforts and mod cons. Life was simple and austere. Conversely, others viewed it as a jewel in the South China Sea and close to nature.
Near the shores of Hong Kong Island or Kowloon, especially in the vicinity of the harbour and to the west of the Territory, pollution is commonplace. There are the murky, estuarine waters of the Pearl River. But out at Waglan, one can experience the true tang of the ocean. One feels at peace. This is how lighthouse keeper Sydney Frank Bamsey, whose ashes were at one time buried there, saw it.
Conversely, it is also possible to feel like another keeper, Lai Kwok-keung. He told the press when automation was introduced in 1989, ‘I am not sad to leave.’
Have you been to Waglan? What were your feelings about the island? One thing, however, is certain. Lighthouse keepers around the world are a fast-dying breed.
Acknowledgements
The two authors are deeply indebted to the staffs of the Antiquities
306
When it was manned there was that special feeling of the island being "inhabited." Hands were always available to tend flowerbeds or to do odd jobs in off duty hours. That was when a small group of buildings and its contents were "loved" and better looked after - with brass gleaming like treasured altar plate - than the most fastidious housewife cares for her home." Without a human presence a lighthouse is dead.
The smell of cooking, the clink of cups and the buzz of conversation were replaced by the silent, cadaverous chill of the tomb. Yet at times this is broken by weird insect-like noises emitted by banks of grey cabinets of electrical equipment which demand neither leave nor pensions.
In 1989, with automation, at Waglan an era had ended.
Conclusions
Some people, both visitors and lighthouse keepers, saw Waglan in the days when it was manned, as a place lacking creature comforts and mod cons. Life was simple and austere. Conversely, others viewed it as a jewel in the South China Sea and close to nature.
Near the shores of Hong Kong Island or Kowloon, especially in the vicinity of the harbour and to the west of the Territory, pollution is commonplace. There are the murky, estuarine waters of the Pearl River. But out at Waglan one can experience the true tang of the ocean, One feels at peace. This is how lighthouse keeper Sydney Frank Bamsey, whose ashes were at one time buried there, saw it.
Conversely, it is also possible to feel like another keeper, Lai Kwok- keung. He told the press when automation was introduced in 1989, ‘I am not sad to leave."
Have you been to Waglan? What were your feelings about the island? One thing however is certain. Lighthouse keepers around the world are a fast dying breed.
Acknowledgements
The two authors are deeply indebted to the staffs of the Antiquities
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