A Lighthouse Lover’s Guide to Cape Cod

Chatham Light on a clear summer day, the white tower and red‑roofed Coast Guard station standing against blue sky and green trees, with visitors gathered out front.

Cape Cod’s Mighty Sentinels 

Nobska Light- Photo credit Linda Whitcomb

Some people are real lighthouse folks. They love them. Lighthouses have a mystique about them — they represent our relationship with the sea. They stand as guardians for sailors and provide a path of safety to snug harbors. They warn ships away from dangerous shoals.

If you’re one of those lighthouse people, this post is for you.

Cape Cod, with its hook into the Atlantic Ocean, presented a multitude of hazards. In response, we built lighthouses — lots of lighthouses — beacons to guide sailors home.

Today on Cape Cod you can visit eleven of these mighty sentinels. Not all allow interior tours, but all can be admired from the outside. I’ve started out many times to visit them all, but somehow I always run out of time or get sidetracked.

How many have you made it to?

Nobska Light (Falmouth/Woods Hole)

Nobska Light has watched over Vineyard Sound since 1829. Its original 30‑foot stone tower and whale‑oil lamp guided mariners through the tricky currents between Woods Hole and Falmouth. Over the years it evolved from a simple coastal beacon into one of Cape Cod’s most beloved landmarks. With its white tower, keeper’s house, and sweeping views toward Martha’s Vineyard, Nobska remains a place where history and beauty meet the sea.

Chatham Light (Chatham)

Chatham Light stands watch over one of the most dramatic stretches of coastline on Cape Cod, where shifting sands and powerful Atlantic surf have challenged sailors for generations. First lit in 1808, the station has evolved through storms, erosion, and countless rescues, yet it remains a steadfast symbol of the Coast Guard’s presence on the Cape. With its crisp white tower overlooking the restless waters of Chatham Bar, this lighthouse feels alive — a place where history, danger, and beauty meet at the edge of the sea. Even from the outside, you sense the weight of its duty and the stories it has seen.

Stage Harbor Light (Chatham)

Stage Harbor Light sits quietly along the shoreline, a weathered sentinel overlooking the calm waters of Chatham’s southern coast. Built in 1880, it once guided fishing boats and coastal schooners through the harbor’s shifting channels, but today it stands retired, its lantern long dark. Yet the lighthouse still carries a certain grace — the kind that comes from decades of salt air, storms, and sun. Seen from the beach or by boat, Stage Harbor Light feels like a glimpse into an older Cape Cod, a place where time slows and the past lingers in the wind.

Nauset Light (Eastham)

Nauset Light is the lighthouse everyone recognizes — the bold red‑and‑white tower perched above the Atlantic, famous from the Cape Cod Potato Chips bag but even more striking in person. First built in 1877 and moved inland in 1996 to escape relentless erosion, it stands today as a symbol of the Cape’s constant dance with the sea. The surf below is never quiet, the wind never still, and Nauset feels like it’s holding its ground with quiet determination. Whether you catch it at sunrise or under a bright summer sky, this lighthouse carries the spirit of Eastham’s rugged coastline in every line of its silhouette.

Three Sisters Lighthouses (Eastham)

The Three Sisters are unlike any other lights on Cape Cod — three small, weathered wooden towers set inland among the pines, quietly telling the story of a coastline that has shifted and reshaped itself over centuries. Built in the 1830s to guide mariners past Eastham’s treacherous outer bars, the original trio once stood proudly along the shore, their three lights forming a distinctive pattern at sea. As erosion claimed the bluff, the Sisters were moved, retired, and eventually restored, now standing together like old friends who have seen much and endured more. Visiting them feels less like seeing a lighthouse and more like stepping into a chapter of Cape Cod’s past that refuses to be forgotten.

Highland Light (Truro)

Highland Light is the grand old sentinel of Cape Cod — the tallest, oldest, and perhaps most storied lighthouse on the peninsula. First lit in 1797 and rebuilt in 1857, it has watched centuries of ships pass along the treacherous “Backside” of the Cape, where deep ocean swells meet steep bluffs. In 1996, the entire tower was moved 450 feet inland to escape the relentless erosion that threatened to send it over the cliff, a dramatic reminder of how fragile this coastline can be. Standing beside Highland Light, you feel the sweep of history and the raw power of the Atlantic all at once. It’s a place where the past feels close, the horizon feels endless, and the lighthouse seems to hold its ground with quiet, unwavering dignity.

Race Point Light (Provincetown)

Race Point Light sits at the edge of Provincetown where the Cape feels wild and wide open, a place where sand, sea, and sky stretch out in every direction. First lit in 1816, it guided ships along the outer arm of the Cape, where strong currents and shifting sandbars made navigation treacherous. Reaching the lighthouse today often means a long walk through soft dunes, the wind in your face and the Atlantic roaring nearby — and that journey is part of its magic. When you finally arrive, Race Point Light feels both remote and welcoming, a sturdy white tower standing against the elements with quiet resilience. It’s one of those places where you can hear your own thoughts and feel the full sweep of Cape Cod’s untamed beauty.

Wood End Light (Provincetown)

Wood End Light sits at the quiet edge of Provincetown, where the land thins into sand flats and tidal marshes before giving way to open water. Built in 1872, it guided ships past the tricky currents at the mouth of Cape Cod Bay, standing as a steady companion to Race Point and Long Point. To reach it, you cross the breakwater — a long granite path that disappears under high tide and feels almost otherworldly when the wind is calm and the harbor is still. When you arrive, Wood End Light feels peaceful and solitary, a simple white tower keeping watch over the shifting tides and the wide, empty horizon. It’s one of those places where the Cape feels both remote and deeply familiar.

Long Point Light (Provincetown)

Long Point Light sits at the very tip of Cape Cod, where Provincetown’s sandy arm curls into the bay like a protective hook. Built in 1875, it guided ships past the harbor entrance and the shifting shoals that once made this stretch of water notoriously tricky. Reaching it today feels like traveling to the end of the world — a quiet walk across sand flats, gulls wheeling overhead, and the town shrinking behind you until all that’s left is sky, tide, and the steady white tower ahead. Long Point Light has a lonely beauty to it, a sense of isolation that’s peaceful rather than stark. It’s the kind of place where you can stand for a moment and feel the full sweep of the Cape’s geography, the curve of land meeting the open bay, and the lighthouse holding its solitary post with quiet grace.

Sandy Neck Light (Barnstable)

Sandy Neck Light stands at the entrance to Barnstable Harbor, a quiet, dignified beacon tucked along one of the Cape’s longest and most beautiful barrier beaches. Built in 1857, it once guided schooners and fishing boats through the harbor’s narrow channel, but today it serves mostly as a picturesque landmark — privately owned, lovingly maintained, and best viewed from the water or the long, winding trail behind the dunes. There’s a peacefulness to Sandy Neck Light, a sense of calm that comes from its distance from the bustle of town. With the salt marsh stretching behind it and the harbor opening before it, the lighthouse feels like a gentle reminder of the Cape’s quieter side, where tides move slowly and the past lingers in the breeze.

Bass River Light (West Dennis)

Bass River Light is one of Cape Cod’s quiet treasures — a small, graceful lighthouse tucked beside the Lighthouse Inn in West Dennis, still shining each night as a private beacon. Built in 1855, it once guided vessels along the busy Bass River channel, its light reflecting off calm waters and salt marshes that haven’t changed much in more than a century. Today it feels almost like a secret, a lighthouse you stumble upon rather than seek out, with the inn’s white buildings and the river’s gentle tide giving it a peaceful, timeless charm. Bass River Light may not be as famous as some of the Cape’s larger towers, but it carries a lovely intimacy — a reminder that even the quieter corners of Cape Cod have stories worth telling.

Closing Thoughts

Cape Cod’s lighthouses are more than landmarks — they’re storytellers. Each one has weathered storms, guided sailors, and stood watch over generations of coastal life. Whether you’ve visited one or all eleven, each lighthouse offers its own moment of connection with the sea and the history of the Cape.

Note: Most of the photos were taken from the internet. If I was able to give a photo credit I have done so. Many thanks to the talented photgraphers that captured these images.

Glacier Bay National Park & Preserve

Not Just a National Park

Glacier Bay is not just a National Park. It’s also a World Heritage Site. I don’t think you can really refer to Glacier Bay as a “port of call” as there is no port. You are cruising through this huge bay surrounded by icy mountains, glaciers and ice bergs. The ice bergs were a good sign. It meant that it was warm enough to cause the glacier’s to calve, that amazing falling ice that you see on the nature shows. 

Magarie Glacier

Warm is relativeTidewater Glacier

I just said it was warm enough for the glaciers to calve. That’s not to say it was warm. It was still gray and overcast. The misty rainy weather that had been following us since Vancouver continued to be the norm. The rawness of the wind just cut through any coat you were wearing. I counted on the excitement of seeing the glaciers to keep me warm; that and running from one side of the ship to the other so I wouldn’t miss anything.

Bald Eagle on an ice floeIce Bergs and Glaciers

We maneuvered into Glacier Bay from Icy Strait, named for the abundance of ice floes. The ice floes and mini bergs bumped and rattled along the sides of the ship. We took our time so that there were no big collisions. At one point we watched an eagle sail by on one of the ice flows. The glaciers were the high point. The ice was made up of  ribbons of colors. Blues and greens abounded. 

Our Own Private Balcony

Eventually it was just too cold so we went back down to our room and settled on our balcony. That’s where I finally saw one of the glaciers calve. It was just a small piece of ice. It seemed to hover before it dropped into the ocean below. It turns out that we had a much better view from our balcony than from the top deck and we were out of the wind so it felt much warmer. 

calving Glacier

Stock Photo

Allens Pond Trails

A few days ago I started telling you about a new Wildlife Sanctuary, well new to me anyway…Allens Pond in Westport. So much happened between my first post about Allens Pond and this installment that it’s hard to believe its been less than a week.

Allens Pond Wildlife Sanctuary is 595 acres that includes a coastal salt-pond, a salt marsh, a barrier beach, shrublands , forested wetlands and grasslands.

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The sanctuary consists of 6  miles of trails where you can wander along the Buzzards Bay Shoreline, cross an old pasture or climb among giant boulders.

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On my visit the sun was shining but the wind off the bay was blustery and made it cold in spite of the sunshine. Because of this I only explored half of the Beach Loop trail which was only a tiny part of the trail system.

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The section I explored took me along a dirt road with Allens Pond on my left and Buzzards Bay on my right. Most of the time I could see the pond but the view of the bay was blocked by the shrublands or what I would call shrubland. These low but thick bushes are nesting areas for several protected species of birds. Piping Plovers and a couple of species of terns are known to nest here and the area is clearly marked as protected.

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As you first encounter the pond from the trail you will see an Osprey nesting platform. To my right were smaller nest boxes more suitable for Eastern Bluebirds or other small, grassland birds. I saw plenty of ducks including a merganser with its fluffy looking head of feathers but no action at the Osprey Nest while I was there.

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A bit farther along it was clear that the swans were here. About 6 white spots floated on the blue water just beyond my camera’s range. In the soft sand in the road I spotted the distinctive split hoof print of a deer.

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It must have passed through just before I came along because the way the wind was blowing the print wouldn’t stay visible for long.  In fact by the time I had turned back it was gone,  filled in by the sifting, blowing sand.

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By now I was pretty wind burned but it had been a nice little walk. I didn’t walk back along the shore because the round rocks were pretty unstable underfoot and I was only wearing sneakers so I retraced my steps back along the road.

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There are many more trails to explore so I bet I will be back and maybe next time I’ll see that deer!

Driving and Driving and Driving

The road to Pemaquid seemed to go on forever. It was a good road, well paved and now that the rain had stopped and the sun was out it was easy to look for signs if there were any.

I followed the road through little villages and long stretches with nothing but trees and the occasional farm. I questioned if I had missed a turn somewhere. I didn’t see any ocean. Shouldn’t there be ocean if I’m looking for a lighthouse?

It was almost lunchtime and I wasn’t seeing too many places to stop when I came over a rise in the road and there was this enormous lobster.

The sign in front of the restaurant was “Taste of Maine”. Why not. This was as good a place as any.

I was seated on the deck that looked out over a marshy tributary.

A few boaters were traveling the channel but mostly it was populated by ducks and other water birds. It was so peaceful. I could have just stayed there. Of course I had their baked scallop casserole. It was really good. Service was friendly and pleasant. It was just a nice experience. But all good things come to an end and I wanted to find this lighthouse so back on the road I go.

The trip (without counting the lunch stop) was definitely an hour and a half, maybe more and I am very glad I didn’t attempt this drive at 4 AM. I would have been really lost.  Finally I saw a little lighthouse sign! I’m on the right track. A few more miles and the road splits in the middle of a little hamlet. I crossed my fingers and took the right fork. Sure enough there was a sign. Lighthouse Park ahead. I still didn’t see any ocean. Those Maine distances came into play here. “Ahead” was probably about 7 miles.

The guide books all said that Pemaquid Light is best seen from the ocean but so many of my photographer friends and acquaintances raved about “shooting it” that I felt sure there must be a way to take it from land.

Entering the park I paid a small entrance fee and pulled into the dirt parking lot. The lighthouse was right in front of me.

The grounds were pretty busy. There were a few benches for people to sit and watch the ocean and you could climb up the tower to see the lens. It was hot and humid and as I stood inline I happened to notice a sign. It listed the usual restrictions and one extra one for  “Stout” people.

It really didn’t look like it would be that bad of a climb but I certainly qualify as “stout” so I wimped out. I didn’t want to get to the door and have them tell me no. I would have died of embarrassment so I wandered the grounds instead.

The rocks are amazing. I’ve heard them described as “waves frozen in stone”.

What a great description. I don’t think any of my pictures captured they way they truly looked. People were climbing down them out to a point that jutted into the ocean.

I wanted to head out there with the tripod. What a picture that would make! I actually started down but after nearly turning my ankle twice I decided to stop where I was. Whatever I managed to get from that vantage point would have to do. Old bones don’t mend easily.

After I wandered the lighthouse grounds I went next door to a little snack bar and souvenir shop. It was crammed. So many interesting things around.

Having satisfied myself with this visit I headed out to find a boat that could take me past the lighthouse.

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