The Untold Story of Bahamian Lighthouse Families Living in Isolation

On Elbow Cay in the Abaco islands, a kerosene flame has burned every night since 1864. The light is turned by hand, its lens rotated by a clockwork mechanism that a keeper winds each evening. Jeffrey Forbes Jr. is the man who does it now. His grandfather did it before him, and his father after that. The lighthouse is not a museum piece — it remains an active navigational aid, and the families who have tended it across generations have lived a life that most Bahamians and visitors barely know about.

This article is about those families: the keepers who raised children within earshot of the sea, the women who fought to keep the light burning after a hurricane, and the isolation that shaped them. It is not a travel guide to the lighthouse itself, but an inquiry into a way of life that is down to its last living example. Anyone curious about how community, tradition, and resilience function in extreme conditions will find something here.

What follows is not a linear history but a set of connected portraits — the keeper, the preservation society, the hurricane — each of which reveals a different facet of what it meant, and means, to live in the orbit of a lighthouse.

The Forbes family and the keeper tradition

Jeffrey Forbes Jr. did not choose the lighthouse so much as inherit it. His grandfather was keeper before him, and his father after that. The role passed through the family the way a fishing boat or a carpentry workshop might pass — through proximity, necessity, and the slow accretion of knowledge that cannot be written down. When Forbes Jr. took over, he was not stepping into a job description. He was stepping into a way of seeing the world: the light must be lit at dusk, the clockwork wound, the lens cleaned, the kerosene supply checked. Miss a step and ships are at risk.

The isolation of the keeper’s life is difficult to overstate. Elbow Cay is a small island in the Abaco chain, and the lighthouse sits at its northern end. Before the bridge to the mainland was built, the keeper and his family were largely confined to the cay. Children attended school on the island or were taught at home. Supplies arrived by boat. The keeper’s schedule — every evening, every morning, seven days a week — meant that travel away from the light was rare. The Forbes family did not simply live on Elbow Cay; they lived in the rhythm of the lighthouse, a rhythm that did not pause for holidays or illness.

That isolation also produced a specific kind of knowledge. The keeper could read the weather in the way the light refracted, could hear a change in the clockwork mechanism before any gauge showed it, and knew the reef patterns around the cay better than any chart. This was not theoretical knowledge. It was earned through repetition and solitude. The Forbes family tradition is one of the last living links to a skill set that was once common across the world’s coastlines.

The five women who saved the light

In 1992, the Bahamas Lighthouse Preservation Society formed to prevent the Elbow Reef Lighthouse from being automated and decommissioned. The effort was restructured and renamed the Elbow Reef Lighthouse Society in 2013 and 2014. Today, the society is run by five women: Deborah Patterson, who serves as office administrator and port department liaison; Marjorie Chapman, who handles finance and legal matters; Heather Forde-Prosa, who manages brand communications and marketing; Annie Potts, the historian, U.S. liaison, and author of Last Lights; and Kent Watts-LeBoutillier, who oversees restoration and retail operations. Their work was profiled by the Bahamian Project in 2022.

Each woman brings a different expertise, but together they perform a function that the original lighthouse keepers never needed: advocacy. The society raises funds, manages restoration, and coordinates with the Bahamian government to keep the lighthouse operational. They also run a small retail operation and offer tours, though the lighthouse remains a working aid to navigation, not a tourist attraction. The society’s website is elbowreeflighthousesociety.com.

What is less understood is that the society’s work is not just about preservation. It is about keeping a specific kind of knowledge alive. The lighthouse is the last manned station out of 18,000 that once existed globally. When the society fights to keep it manual, they are not fighting for a building. They are fighting for a practice — the practice of tending a light by hand, reading its mechanisms, and passing that knowledge to the next person. The Forbes family provides the continuity; the society provides the infrastructure.

Hurricane Dorian and the light that would not die

In September 2019, Hurricane Dorian struck the Abaco islands with sustained winds of 185 mph. It was the strongest hurricane on record to hit the Bahamas. On Hope Town, the storm surge destroyed homes, snapped docks, and left the island without power or communication. The lighthouse went dark for eleven days — the first time it had been extinguished in its 155-year history. The Bahamian Project reported that Kent LeBoutillier led the mission to restore the light.

The restoration was not a straightforward repair. The lighthouse had been damaged by saltwater intrusion, and the kerosene system had to be carefully drained and cleaned. LeBoutillier and a small team worked without reliable electricity, using flashlights and hand tools. When the light came back on, it was a signal of something beyond navigation. The community of Hope Town, which had been decimated by the storm, saw the light return and understood it as a sign that the island would recover.

The hurricane also revealed something about the isolation of the lighthouse families. During the eleven days of darkness, the Forbes family and other residents of Hope Town were cut off from the mainland. The lighthouse, which had always been a source of orientation and safety, was silent. When it was restored, the keeper’s role took on a new meaning. Jeffrey Forbes Jr. was not just winding a clockwork mechanism. He was re-establishing a connection that the storm had severed.

Context and comparison: what is being lost

The Elbow Reef Lighthouse is the last of its kind, but it was once one of thousands. At its peak, the global network of manned lighthouses numbered around 18,000 stations. Today, nearly all have been automated, decommissioned, or replaced by GPS and satellite navigation. The United Kingdom automated its last lighthouse in 1998. The United States automated its last offshore lighthouse in 2013. The Bahamas held out longer, partly because of the isolation of its islands and partly because of the efforts of the preservation society.

What is being lost is not just a technology but a social structure. The lighthouse keeper was a figure who occupied a specific role in coastal communities: part watchman, part mechanic, part public servant. The keeper’s family was part of the operation. Children helped with cleaning and maintenance. Spouses managed the household during the keeper’s night shifts. The isolation that defined the keeper’s life also defined the family’s life. The Family Islands of the Bahamas each developed distinct cultures shaped by geography and isolation, and the lighthouse families of Elbow Cay were a microcosm of that pattern.

There is still debate about what should happen to the lighthouse after the current generation of keepers and society members can no longer maintain it. Automation is technically possible, but it would end the last manually-operated kerosene-burning lighthouse in the world. The society has argued for a model that keeps the light operational while training a new generation of keepers — but the training pipeline is thin, and the isolation of the job makes it hard to recruit. The question of whether the lighthouse can remain manned is unresolved.

What outsiders get wrong about lighthouse families

There is a persistent image of the lighthouse keeper as a solitary figure, a kind of nautical hermit who chose isolation over society. The reality is more complicated. The keeper was part of a community — the small island or coastal settlement where the lighthouse was located. On Elbow Cay, the Forbes family was not separate from the island’s life. They attended the same church, shopped at the same stores, and sent their children to the same school. The isolation was geographic, not social. The keeper’s family was often more integrated into the community than families who lived on the mainland, because they could not leave easily.

Another misconception is that the lighthouse is a relic — a charming piece of history that has been preserved for tourists. In fact, it is an active navigation aid, and the keeper’s work is real and dangerous. The kerosene system requires careful handling. The Fresnel lens, which weighs several tons, must be cleaned and aligned regularly. The clockwork mechanism must be wound every few hours, even at night. The lighthouse is not a show; it is a job.

Questions readers ask

Can you visit the Elbow Reef Lighthouse?

Yes, but access is limited. The Elbow Reef Lighthouse Society offers tours on a restricted schedule, and the lighthouse is still an active navigation aid, so visitors must be accompanied by a society member. The climb is steep, and the interior is narrow. Check the society’s website for current availability.

How did Hurricane Dorian affect the lighthouse and its keepers?

Dorian knocked the lighthouse out for eleven days — the first time it had been dark since 1864. Kent LeBoutillier led the restoration effort. The Forbes family, like most residents of Hope Town, lost their home and most of their possessions. The restoration of the light became a symbol of the island’s recovery.

Why is the lighthouse still manually operated when automation exists?

The Elbow Reef Lighthouse Society successfully argued that the lighthouse should remain manned because it is the last surviving example of a global system. Automation was technically possible, but the society’s position was that the knowledge of manual operation — the clockwork, the kerosene system, the lens maintenance — was itself a form of heritage worth preserving. The Bahamian government agreed.

What happens to lighthouse families when the keeper retires?

In the Forbes family, the role passed from grandfather to father to son. But that pattern is rare today. Most lighthouse families in the Bahamas have moved on to other work, and the isolation of the job makes it difficult to attract new keepers. The society is exploring training programs, but the future of the manned lighthouse is uncertain.

Did lighthouse families really live in isolation?

Geographically, yes — Elbow Cay is a small island, and before the bridge to the mainland, travel was by boat. But socially, the families were part of a tight-knit island community. The isolation was more about the keeper’s schedule (every evening, every morning) than about physical separation from other people. The Forbes family was well-known and well-integrated on Hope Town.

What the last light teaches us

The Elbow Reef Lighthouse is often called the last of its kind, but that phrasing suggests an ending. What is more interesting is what the lighthouse reveals about the kind of knowledge that only survives through practice. The Forbes family did not write down how to keep the light. They showed each other. The five women of the society did not read a manual on how to save a lighthouse. They learned as they went, through trial and error, through meetings and fundraising and restoration work. The isolation of the lighthouse families produced a specific kind of competence — one that is not easily transferred to a training program or a document. That is what is being lost, and that is what makes the story worth telling. For a deeper look at how isolation has shaped other Bahamian island communities, the traditions of Ragged Island offer another perspective on the same theme.

Sources and further reading

Bahamian Project. “Guardians of the Light.” 2022. 🔗

Elbow Reef Lighthouse Society. Official website. 🔗

Potts, Annie. “Last Lights.” Elbow Reef Lighthouse Society. 🔗

Related reading on IslandHopperGuides

Family Islands’ Unique Cultures: A Guide to Regional Variations in The Bahamas — How geography and isolation shaped distinct traditions across the Bahamian archipelago.

The Loyalists’ Impact: How History Shaped Modern Bahamian Society — The historical context that shaped settlement patterns in the Out Islands, including the Abaco chain.