The book we judged

East Brother Light Station was the next big stop on our trip. A bed & breakfast made from the 5 rooms in a lighthouse on a small island in the San Pablo Bay, we initially had never expected to get reservations, especially for a Saturday night. As luck (and the steep price bracket) would have it, we booked the "San Francisco" room without issue. We were particularly excited because aside from getting to sleep in a lighthouse, the accommodations included the boat ride to the small island and a four course dinner. With these few hints about our stay, we headed to the water to find our dock.

Now take a moment to materialize your first impressions of the lighthouse based on the description above and apply them to any guesses you might have about the area that this dock might fraternize with. Trust that we were armed with the same expectations, and know that we were sorely mistaken. The website for East Brother had specified that the boat would arrive at 4pm at the San Pablo Bay dock, but nothing further. Some online research gave us only the name of one road, Western Drive, and we offered this paltry token of information into the GPS to guide us. After entering an area that made Newark look jovial and sociable, we continued driving through an industrial complex that appeared not to have seen human life since 1960. Eventually we reached Western Drive and forced the car through near-vertical climbs up and down one of California's infamously inclined backroads.



Adam fiddled with a more comprehensive view on the GPS before discovering that we were on the exact opposite end of the street that we needed; we were not even on the right side of the bridge. We breathed a sigh of relief and exited the area, navigated to the correct side, and made our way back to Western Drive. If we had felt alone before with the empty factories watching over us, we were now positively abandoned. Once again convinced of error, the GPS insisted we were heading the right way. Empty fenced-in dirt pits kept us company as we drove the narrow street edging the bay. We shortly came upon a sign that read "East Brother Light Station Historical Landmark turn right" and we happily grasped at the opportunity to take a different path. Unfortunately, the next fifteen minutes straight consisted of a mangled pile of road leading us in no discernible direction through patches of dead yellow grass. We were put to ease furthermore, when small signs notified us that we were now under the jurisdiction of the private property owner.



When the road finally opened up around a curve, we found ourselves pulling up to a deserted parking lot on the edge of a decrepit dock. Any cars in the vicinity were either weather-worn pickup trucks, or on cinderblocks without wheels. Stepping out of the car, we were serenaded with the calming sound of gunshots, presumably from the "Sportsmen's Club" that adorned the only sign in the area with their name.



Suffice it to say our Civic and our persons were a little out of place, and this too at 3:15 when we still had time to kill. Steering away from the "club", we walked over to the last building on the dock with a small handwritten sign that said "Office" and went in. There we found a woman piecing together a jigsaw puzzle of a meadow who told us that we were in the right place and that we were welcome to kill time as long as we didn't wander around or walk on any docks. Exiting with a short list of options, we chose to spend the next 40 minutes feebly attempting to pack a bag amidst the consistent gunshots and keeping our eyes glued to the road in hopes of some sign of incoming normal life.

With about 5 minutes to go before 4pm, we walked to the corner dock and found an EBLS boarding sign to station ourselves next to. From here we watched two other cars hesitantly pulling into the lot and their owners walking towards us. Luckily, these two couples appeared normal and equally confused; a short conversation later and we were sure we were in the same boat.

A few minutes later, a small boat pulled up and a man, who Adam later accurately and affectionately described as Willy Wonka, hopped off the boat holding a bag of trash. He quickly introduced himself as the garbage man, assured us the captain would appear shortly, and scurried away into some hidden depth of a nearby building. As the six of us sat conversing casually about our varied paths to the lighthouse, he suddenly apparated next to us. Exclaiming what a "fancy looking tripod!" Adam had while slowly walking away from us, we presumed to follow and lined up next the small boat he hopped in.

Once lifejacketed with our belongings settled, (Lighthouse) Ed, our new friend, led us out into the bay while asking us about our awareness of the lighthouse. As we headed quickly towards the island, the wake of a ferry sidearmed the boat, causing pretty much everyone except Adam and me to soak at least one article of clothing. When we finally reached, it took about 12 attempts before Lighthouse Ed could safely tether the boat to the pylons and let us climb up the metal ladder onto flat ground. Once all of us were safely up, we stood braced against an astoundingly persistent wind and watched him hook the boat up to be lifted from the water. As he exited the boat his wife introduced herself, ushered us towards the few buildings for warmer air, and gave us our official welcome the the island.


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