So there I was ... having pedaled to Castle Hill where I locked my bike to a tree and wandered down a wood-chipped path to the lighthouse. I'd seen and passed at least a dozen empty Adirondack-style chairs, and now an occupied pair of chairs sat to my right. A couple were sharing what looked to be a bottle of champagne — I could see it sitting on the wide, flat armrest — and the woman, from her seat, asked me, "How far did you ride?" I wondered how she knew I'd ridden, not driven, then realized my bike helmet was sitting on my head. (Silly me.) I said I'd ridden from town. She countered that it was her birthday. I said, "Nice day." She said, "This is my favorite spot in the world." (Wow.) She went on to say she'd attended nursing school at Salve and she used to come swimming here, at night, with her friends. Swimming?? Really?? I looked down. It's not only deep ... and rocky ... and tricky (given the seaweed) ... and often there are swells ... and boats (with propellers) ... but the currents are strong and sweep close to the shore. And if you draw a straight line from Castle Hill across the bay to Beavertail (the southernmost tip of Jamestown, being Conanicut Island), one side is Narragansett Bay and the other side is the Atlantic Ocean. Or so I've been told. In other words, if you're going to go swimming, and I'm not sure I've ever seen anyone swimming at Castle Hill Light, you'd want to be sure the tide was coming in, not going out. I didn't say any of this, but the woman could imagine (I imagine) what I was thinking. So she added, "I'm a very strong swimmer. Right, honey?" Her husband nodded in agreement, and we chatted for a few moments more. Then I wished her a happy birthday, they returned to their bottle of champagne, and I turned to head back up the path. Along the way, I was thinking about how it's one thing to jump in at a beautiful spot like that, but it must be pretty tricky to get out ...
I was also thinking that blue conduit (right there ^^) probably brings power to the lighthouse, which does still operate ...
Also thinking I would not swim here, but she (there, in the chair) did ...
And, really, how did she get out?? At night??
