The woodpecker who performed for us last year is back. He has taken to pecking a tattoo on the spherical cupola atop the conical roof on Bidston Lighthouse.
We wish him every success in attracting a mate.
The woodpecker who performed for us last year is back. He has taken to pecking a tattoo on the spherical cupola atop the conical roof on Bidston Lighthouse.
We wish him every success in attracting a mate.
In the nineteenth century, a fellow called Samuel Birley Rowbotham promoted a flat earth system which he called Zetetic Astronomy. Writing under the pseudonym “Parallax”, Rowbotham published Zetetic Astronomy: Earth Not a Globe in 1865. He drew on, amongst other things, information published in Lighthouses of the World by Alexander G. Findlay (1861-2) to support his thesis that the earth was flat. Bidston Lighthouse was one of his chief examples:
By the same authority, at page 39, the Bidston Hill Lighthouse, near Liverpool, is 228 feet above high water, one bright fixed light, visible 23 nautical or very nearly 27 statute miles. Deducting 4 miles for the height of the observer, squaring the remaining 23 miles and multiplying that product by 8 inches we have a downward curvature of 352 feet; from this deduct the altitude of the light, 228 feet, and there remains 124 feet as the distance which the light should be below the horizon!
Over a hundred years later, Robert J. Schadewald picked up the story in his 1992 article Looking for Lighthouses. Schadewald, like the Reverend M. R. Bresher before him, vigorously refuted Rowbotham’s arguments, but could not explain the anomalies in Lighthouses of the World. Schadewald concluded:
And what about Rowbotham’s anomalous lighthouses? Beats me. Perhaps the reported observations were made under unusual conditions. Perhaps, for those lighthouses still operating, new observations would not confirm the reported anomalies. By now, however, some of Rowbotham’s lighthouses presumably have been closed, torn down, or destroyed by the elements. For these, we will never know. One thing is certain; those who seek only anomalous lighthouses will never find light.
My inner geek can’t leave it at that. You can bear with me as I try to make sense of it, or you can read this instead.
I should disclose at this point that I do not, and never have, subscribed to any Flat Earth theory.
Let’s start with Findlay’s Lighthouses of the World. The entry for Bidston is on page 39.
Findlay explains the meaning of each column on page 32. Bidston is written in block capitals because it is a principal light. The black circle in column 4 denotes a catoptric reflector. To avoid any ambiguity, I quote Findlay’s explanations of columns 5 and 6 verbatim:
Height above high water (5th column). This gives the height of the flame above the highest tide level, consequently it is its minimum height, and is increased by the tidal range of the place. The height of the lighthouse itself, from base to summit, is given sometimes in the third column.
Visible in miles – sixth column. This gives the minimum distance to which the light can be seen, in clear weather, from a height of 10 feet above the sea level. But in the case of the principal lights this but imperfectly represents their range, as they could be seen at any distance attainable by increased elevation. In the use of coloured lights this range is given according to their presumed power.
The range is given in nautical miles. 23 nautical miles is 26.5 international miles or 42.6 kilometres, near enough.
The elevation is the height of the flame, and is given as 228 feet above high water. This is difficult to check, as the original Bidston Lighthouse was replaced in 1873. The new lighthouse was built a few yards or so to the north of the original, and there was extensive work on the foundations. So the elevations at the bases of the 1771 and 1873 towers could have differed by a metre or two. And while some contemporary descriptions give a height for the tower (e.g. 55 ft according to Burdett’s Chart of 1771 [Rees 1949]), it is not clear whether these include the weather vane, chimney or flagpole erected atop the tower.
As Bidston Lighthouse is some two miles from the sea, the location of the high water mark to which the elevation is referenced is not immediately obvious. There are two reasonable choices. One is at the north coast of the Wirral peninsula, somewhere along Mockbeggar Wharf. The other, more likely, is Liverpool docks. Bidston Lighthouse was visible from both. There are good reasons to assume that the elevation was referenced to Liverpool docks. Ever since William Hutchinson started his tidal measurements in 1764, the tides at Liverpool were the most carefully observed in the British empire. It is no accident that Liverpool was the national reference point for elevation (Ordnance Datum). The original Liverpool levelling was started in 1840 using a bench mark on St John’s Church. In 1844 the datum was changed to the tidal pole in Victoria Dock. It was not until 1921 that the Ordnance Datum was changed to Newlyn, Cornwall. Given all this, it is reasonable to assume that the elevation of the Bidston light was known as precisely as any other in the country.
We can at least check whether Findlay’s reported 228 feet is plausible. We know that the elevation (relative to mean sea level Newlyn) of the base of the present Lighthouse is 59 metres (193 feet). The correction from Ordnance Datum Newlyn to Ordnance Datum Liverpool is negligible (only 0.1 feet at Ordnance Survey grid reference SJ 2889).
Let us take Findlay’s 68 feet for the height of the tower at face value. Doing the sums, we find the elevation of summit of the tower was 260.5 feet (79.4 metres), relative to mean sea level.
But Findlay gave his elevations relative to high water, not mean sea level. Now, the tidal range at Liverpool is the second highest in the country, nearly 10 metres at spring tides. (At neap tides, the range is about 4 metres). To convert to elevation above high water, we need to subtract about 5 metres, being half the maximum tidal range. So, the top of the tower was about 244 feet (75.4 metres) above high water, some 16 feet above the 228 feet that Findlay reports for the elevation of the flame. You can judge for yourself whether the following contemporary illustrations are consistent with the summit of the tower being 16 feet above the centre of the lamp room.
Are there any other contemporary descriptions of Bidston Lighthouse?
Graham Hill’s “Navigation of the Irish Sea” (1851) agrees with Findlay in terms of both elevation, and range.
However, Henry Mangles Denham F.R.S., who personally surveyed Liverpool Bay, gives a different account in his “Sailing Directions from Point Lynas to Liverpool”, 1840.
Denham’s quoted elevation of 244 feet is referenced to half-tide level. Subtracting 5 metres to make it relative to high water, we get 227.6 feet.
So all three contemporary sources (Findlay, Hills and Denham) agree on the elevation of the lamp to within a foot, i.e. 228 feet above high water. As I’m in no position to argue, I shall adopt this figure henceforth.
Knowing the elevation of the lamp, it should be just a simple matter of geometry to work out at what distance the light will disappear below the horizon for a ship-board observer. There are some complications of course: sea levels rise and fall and the tides around Liverpool are unusually high; the earth is better described as an oblate spheroid than a sphere; and the path of light near the earth’s surface bends because of atmospheric refraction. Refraction is the most difficult to deal with, because the magnitude of the effect depends on prevailing weather conditions, notably the amount of moisture in the air and how this varies along the path from the light to the observer. For more information, see Andrew T. Young’s comprehensive article “Distance to the Horizon“.
In the following chart, I have plotted the range of a light (in nautical miles) as a function of its elevation (in feet). The red curve shows the range to the horizon, ignoring atmospheric refraction. The green curve shows the range of the light for a shipboard observer 10 ft above the water line, again ignoring atmospheric refraction. The blue curve is the same as the red curve, but corrected for atmospheric refraction; I have used the “standard” correction of 8%, although in reality the effect can be significantly more or less, depending on prevailing conditions. The purple curve is the same as the green curve, with the same 8% correction for atmospheric refraction. I have drawn vertical lines at 10 ft (the standard elevation of a shipboard observer as adopted by Findlay), 228 ft (the elevation of the Bidston Light relative to high water), and 260 feet (the elevation of the Bidston Light relative to low water).
Thus the theoretical visibility of the Bidston Light for a shipboard observer at 10 ft above the waterline at high water matches Denham’s reported range of 21 nautical miles exactly, provided that we make an 8% allowance for atmospheric refraction.
I venture to say that Findlay’s quoted range of 23 nautical miles was actually wrong, at least by his own criteria.
But when you think about it, the conditions required to measure Findlay’s ranges would not have been that easy to arrange. At the moment when the light first came into view, the observer had to be 10 feet above the waterline, at high water, in clear weather, and have an independent measure of the distance to the light. Other factors made matters even more difficult. A ship’s waterline depends on how heavily laden it is. Waves could increase the effective height of the observer. And because it takes a certain amount of time for the tide to come in (the difference in time between high tides at Holyhead and Liverpool is about 40 minutes), the mutual horizon of the observer and the light (i.e. the point where a light ray from the lamp to the observer grazes the sea) would sometimes be slightly lower than the observer’s waterline.
The range is much more sensitive to the elevation of the observer than to the elevation of the light itself. Adding seven feet to the elevation of the observer increases the range by more than one nautical mile.
On the other hand, adding seven feet to the elevation of the light increases the range by just under a quarter of a nautical mile. This places a limit on the correction one could make for the sheer size of Bidston’s reflector. The original reflector of 1771 was 12 feet in diameter (according to William Hutchinson, or 13-and-a-half feet according to Robert Stevenson) so the top of the reflector would have been above the horizon when the centre was still below it. We do know that by 1835, Bidston’s single reflector had been replaced by eleven smaller ones, but we don’t know their configuration.
Given all this, and taking variations into atmospheric refraction into account, the Bidston Light might well have been seen at 23 nautical miles, or even farther, under extreme conditions such as looming. And given the pride that Liverpool had in its principal light, for Liverpool to report anything less to Findlay would have been unthinkable.
The range of 23 nautical miles that Alexander G. Findlay quoted for the Bidston light in his Lighthouses of the World was not correct. By Findlay’s own guidelines, it should have been the minimum range in clear weather for a shipboard observer, 10 feet above the waterline, at high water.
Henry Mangles Denham got it right when he reported a range of 21 nautical miles in his Sailing Directions from Point Lynas to Liverpool.
However, the Bidston light would sometimes have been visible at Findlay’s quoted range, or even further, and it is easy to forgive Alexander George Findlay.
But one thing is certain: the data in Lighthouses of the World was not fit for Samual Birley Rowbotham’s purpose. He abused it terribly. This is harder to forgive.
Rowbotham went on to revise and expand his “Zetetic Astronomy: Earth Not a Globe”. The text of the 1881 edition is available on-line. In the 1881 edition, there is only one mention of Bidston Lighthouse, on page 27. He writes:
From the lighthouse on Bidstone Hill, near Liverpool, the whole length of the Isle of Man, on a clear day and with a good telescope, is distinctly visible, and presents the same horizontal base line as that observed in the Isle of Wight.
Now, I have stood in the lamp room of the present Bidston Lighthouse (which was built in 1873, eight years before the 1881 edition of Zetetic Astronomy) many a time, and I have yet to see the Isle of Man. Even the peak of Snaefell is beneath the horizon under normal conditions.
Perhaps Rowbotham’s sightings of the Isle of Man occurred atop the original lighthouse? Although the elevation of the Bidston Light was little changed when the present lighthouse was built, the original lighthouse did have the advantage of a viewing gallery above the lamp room, if Salmon’s painting is to be trusted (see Figure 1). This should not have been enough to bring the entirety of the Isle of Man into view, but perhaps sightings of Snaefell from the original Bidston Lighthouse were less exceptional than today.
We joined the Association of Lighthouse Keepers on Anglesey for their 26th Annual General Meeting. On Friday, we visited two lighthouses in Holyhead Harbour, followed by South Stack Lighthouse, and some also managed to get to the foghorn station at North Stack. On Saturday, it was Trwyn Du and a cruise around Puffin Island, followed by the AGM, and then dinner, with guest speaker Richard Woodman (one of the Elder Brethren of Trinity House, and our newest patron). Sunday featured a visit to Point Lynas Lighthouse, and a few even got to Skerries.
The International Lighthouse Passport scheme was launched last year by Lizard Lighthouse Visitor Centre. Similar schemes have proved popular in North America.
Passport holders collect ink stamps from lighthouse visitor centres. Each page has space for one lighthouse stamp and additional notes so that you can also use it to keep a record of your visits.
In Wirral, Bidston, Leasowe and Hilbre Island Lighthouses all have lighthouse stamps and limited stocks of lighthouse passports for sale.
The passport stamp for Bidston Lighthouse is based on a line drawing by Phil Ryder. Thanks, Phil.
We’ve had reports of woodpeckers seen pecking at the metal roof of the lighthouse. This explains the curious sound that we’ve noticed recently, mostly during the early hours of the day, as the dawn chorus gets under way.
Have you seen the woodpeckers?
Do you have a photograph of them?
If you have, please leave a public comment on this post, or send us a private message through our contact form.
Here is an extract from “The History of the Hundred of Wirral”, by William Williams Mortimer, 1847.
Bidston Lighthouse is an object very familiar to the inhabitants of Liverpool, and is one of the localities which command attention, as much from its prominent appearance as its mercantile utility. The Corporation of Liverpool having obtained an Act of Parliament, authorizing the purchase of Bidston Hill and the erection of a Lighthouse upon it, an edifice for that purpose was built in 1771. It consists of a substantial stone building with an octagonal tower, which from a distance has the appearance of a church, and is frequently taken by strangers for one. A long range of poles were formerly placed on the ridge of the hill, on which signals were hoisted to announce to the merchants of Liverpool the approach of their shipping; but the establishment of a line of telegraphs, from that town along the coast of Wales to Holyhead, has nearly superseded the old mode of communication. But as the lights, from their elevated position, are visible for a circle of fourteen miles, and blending with those at Leasowe Lighthouse, point out the entrance into Liverpool, the continuance of the establishment is indispensable for the safety of the numerous shipping trading into that port.
The Lighthouse of Bidston is deserving a visit, and the stranger will be amply gratified, not only with its construction and appendages, but with the varied and extensive prospect which is obtained from a small gallery that projects round the upper storey of the tower, at an elevation of three hundred feet above high-water mark. To the westward, the marshes, a plain of upwards of five hundred acres, on which graze more than a thousand head of cattle, lay extended beneath the eye of the spectator, protected from the inundations of the sea by a range of sandhills and an artificial embankment, which cause the numerous vessels in the Rock Channel to have the appearance of sailing on dry land.
William Hutchinson, Liverpool Dockmaster, revolutionised lighthouse optics with the introduction of the parabolic reflector. He conducted experiments at the Bidston Signals Station during the 1760s, and subsequently installed reflectors in the Wirral Lighthouses. He writes, in his Treatise on Practical Seamanship:
“We have made, and in use here, at Liverpool, reflectors of one, two, and three feet focus ; and three, five and a half, seven and a half, and twelve feet diameter ; the three smallest being made of tin plates, soldered together ; and the largest of wood, covered with plates of looking glass”.
Hutchinson installed the largest one at Bidston Lighthouse, which was furthest from the sea. The large reflectors had some problems: they used a lot of oil, and smoke from the wick tended to obscure the reflector. Eventually, it was found that several smaller reflectors, arranged so that their beams were parallel, gave an equally bright light and used less oil.
Trinity House have an eighteenth century parabolic reflector in their collection. Its diameter is twenty inches.
Little is known about the provenance of this reflector, because, sadly, Trinity House was bombed in 1940, and many of its records destroyed. The reflector will be on display at the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich from March 2014 until January 2016.
Trinity House is 500 years old this year. Henry VIII granted a Royal Charter to Trinity House in 1514.
Most of the lighthouses of Liverpool Bay were built and run by the port of Liverpool, not Trinity House. The Mersey Docks and Harbour Board took over from the Liverpool Dock Trustees in 1858. It was not until 1973 that Trinity House took over Hilbre Island Lighthouse and Point Lynas Lighthouse from the Mersey Docks and Harbour Board.
Catoptric lights are based on the principle of reflection. They were eventually superseded by dioptric lights, based on the principle of refraction, thanks to the work of Augustin-Jean Fresnel. When Bidston Lighthouse was re-built in 1873, it was equipped with a Fresnel lens manufactured by Chance Brothers.
Acknowledgments. My thanks to the Corporation of Trinity House and Neil Jones, Archivist, for permission to use the photograph of the catoptric reflector.
Robert Stevenson (1772 – 12 July 1850), the grandfather of the author Robert Louis Stevenson, was a Scottish lighthouse engineer. He built twenty-three lighthouses in Scotland alone, including Bell Rock lighthouse.
In the summer of 1801, Stevenson embarked on an eight-week tour of the English lighthouses. His diary of that journey, along with later trips in 1813 and 1818, was edited by his great-grandson D. Alan Stevenson, and published by Thomas Nelson and Sons in 1946, under the title “English Lighthouse Tours”.
This is Stevenson’s account of his visit to the Liverpool lighthouses.
From the Isle of Man I went in the Packet to Liverpool, and in my way thence to the lights on the Smalls and at Milford Haven, I took Bidston Hill and Sea Lights, the Lake (Hoylake) lights, Point of Air light and the Skerries light. Bidston Hill and Sea lights are generally termed the Liverpool leading lights ; being so situated that when the mariner brings them to appear as one light he is then in the proper direction for avoiding the sandbanks on taking the channel for Liverpool. The light from Bidston Hill is from oil with one reflector of silvered glass, which is no less than thirteen and a half feet diameter and its focus four feet. This immense reflector is illuminated by one large cotton wick which consumes one gallon of oil in four hours. This lighthouse is remarkable well taken care of — being in every respect clean and in good order. I cannot see any good reason for expending such a quantity of oil for one reflector as the same quantity would answer for thirty reflectors of twenty inches diameter, and I am confident that seven such reflectors would give an equal if not a superior light. Probably it may have been thought, as the light is wanted in the same direction with the rays of the Sea light, that therefore there ought to be but one reflector in each lighthouse. This, however, is proceeding upon a mistake, as seven or greater number of reflectors may be so set that their rays shall have an identical path.
The Sea light is situated near the beach and distant from Bidston Hill lighthouse three miles in a north-west direction. This lighthouse is a huge pile one hundred and thirty-five feet high, and like Bidston, has one reflector of silvered glass seven and a half feet diameter and thirteen inches focal distance. The Lake lights consist of a higher and lower lighthouse with one reflector of silver glass in each, three feet diameter, which are lighted with one wick or torch as in the two lighthouses last described, and are distant from the Sea light about three miles in a south-west direction. The high and low Lake lights are distant from each other about five hundred paces. They are erected for the use of vessels taking Lake Roads when the weather or other circumstances prevent them from getting up to Liverpool. When both lights are seen as one, vessels are then clear of the sandbanks and may stand in for the anchoring ground.
These four lighthouses have been erected by the Trade of Liverpool, under whose management they seem to be conducted with great propriety. At each lighthouse there is one keeper, and although both the Lake reflectors might be kept by one person, yet they prefer two with equal salaries as they are a check upon each other. Besides these, there is a fifth light (supported also by the Trade of Liverpool), namely, Lynas, in the Island of Anglesey, to direct vessels into Beaumaris Bay when put past Liverpool and the Lake roads, but this small light is in use only during the winter months. All of which are instances of a great commercial interest at the Port of Liverpool.
I’d love to hear the “Foghorn reqiuem” at Souter Lighthouse tomorrow.
Did you know that foghorns owe a lot to Wirral? Modern foghorns rely on the diaphone, which was invented by Robert Hope-Jones. Robert Hope-Jones was born in Hooton, Wirral, in 1859. He was apprenticed at Laird’s shipbuilders in Birkenhead, then set himself up in business making electric organs.
More about the Foghorn Requiem.