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Other stories in "Lighthouses"

• Living in a lighthouse
  The first keepers were ready to assist and rescue. Now, volunteers are returning the favor.
• Cruising to a lighthouse
  In summer, excursion boats give visitors a chance to see historic beacons.
• Lighthouses of the Apostles
  The allure of a bygone lifestyle pulls visitors to these island beacons.
• Dwelling in the past
  Around Lake Superior, overnight guests can try out life at a lighthouse.
• Lighthouses of Door County
  On this long peninsula, beacons are reminders of a more rugged past.

The Lighthouse Express

Between Duluth and Two Harbors, vintage trains take passengers back to the past.

Once, passenger trains crisscrossed the state, and lighthouses guided sailors on the Great Lakes.

Trains and lighthouses are beloved relics now, symbols of a simpler past. In the iPod era, they seem antique, like Grandpa's buggy or Grandma's butter churn.

But don't relegate them to history's dustbin just yet.

There's still a train out of Duluth, and it takes passengers to the depot in Two Harbors. A working lighthouse is just across Agate Bay, and on Fridays, passengers can bring their bags, stay overnight and return on the next day's train.

Two Harbors, once a busy transportation hub, is quiet these days. But rail cars loaded with iron ore still rumble down from the Iron Range and up to the docks, as they have since 1884.

Now, the ore is in taconite pellets, still steaming from the furnace. Nearly every day, massive boats glide in to get them. From the shore or break wall, onlookers can watch the dusty red pellets dropping from 75-foot chutes into bins on the boats.

Across the water, the Edna G. also is ready to work, as she has been since she went into service in 1896. The tug was the St. Bernard of the North Shore, rescuing hundreds of sailors and boats from tight spots until she retired in 1981 and was made into a museum.

Tourists hurrying up to the North Shore often miss the lighthouse, docks and depot. But on the railroad, they're delivered right to the door.

Late one September, my husband and I boarded the North Shore Scenic Railroad for the trip to Two Harbors.

In a 1950 diesel Budd car, we chugged past Bayfront Park, the William Irvin and the Aerial Lift Bridge, under which a Coast Guard boat had just passed.

"It would take all four of the other Great Lakes plus three extra Lake Hurons to fill Lake Superior," car host Joanne Johnson told us. "You could put the Empire State Building in the deepest part of the lake and still have more than 100 feet of water over it."

People out for a morning stroll waved as we followed the Lakewalk, then moved inland. After we crossed the Lester River, we approached Minnesota 61, and the engineer blew his whistle furiously to alert traffic.

Then, we were across the highway and passing Kitchi-Gammi Park on Lake Superior.

"Now, we're getting ready to zoom," Johnson said wryly. "So, we'll be clipping along at 30 miles per hour."

We were sitting with Joyce and Bob Elgan of Austin, Minn., who had just finished a fall-color tour of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan and were on their way to visit friends on Lake Vermilion.

"We were going to drive up the shore, but we thought we could see more if we took the train," Joyce Elgan said.

Mostly we saw trees, but in fall, that was a quite a show. And we got beautiful views of rivers from the high railroad bridges.

"The movie 'Iron Will' used this bridge over the Sucker River," Johnson told us. "They had to spray the trees with potato flakes because not enough snow fell that year."

This rail corridor once was called the Lakefront Line, and freight cars carried goods to the Iron Range and brought back pine logs for Duluth's sawmill.

There were passenger trains, too, and in the early days, they carried resort guests to Lake Vermilion and dropped off fishermen at trout streams along the way.

Later, passengers rode a self-propelled Budd car like ours, until service was discontinued in 1961.

As we watched the scenery, Bob Elgan reminisced about the days when people could board a streamlined passenger train — the City of Los Angeles, the Rock Island Rocket, the Portland Rose, the California Zephyr — and cross the nation.

"It's been 35 years since I was on a train in this country," Joyce Elgan said. "I rode Amtrak once — that was nothing to write home about."

We got to Two Harbors at noon and walked up to the highway for lunch at the Vanilla Bean. As we ate, we watched weekend traffic rushing up the North Shore.

"It's kind of funny, sitting in Two Harbors watching the cars go by," said my husband, Torsten. "Usually, it's me in the car watching the town go by."

There's a sign on the highway pointing to the lighthouse, harbor and downtown less than a mile away, but few heed it.

When I told Joyce Elgan there's a lighthouse in which people can stay and do keeper's chores if they want, her face lit up.

"Oh, wouldn't that be fun," she said.

The Lighthouse B&B is owned and operated by the Lake County Historical Society, which also runs the Historical Museum at the Depot. 

Our little Budd car waited outside, dwarfed by two museum exhibits — the 1883 Three Spot, which looked just like the Little Engine That Could, and the Mallet 229, a 1943 monster that weighs more than 1 million pounds, has 36 wheels and is one of the largest locomotives in existence.

Chelle Fritz from the historical society was there to take us to the lighthouse, where we dropped our bags in the Keeper's Room. Then, we went back outside to Lighthouse Point.

We walk there whenever we can, these days. A developer bought the Agate Bay waterfront, everything except the land on which the lighthouse and depot sit. He made plans to build up to nine condos and condo-hotels in exchange for deeding the shore and ridgeline of Lighthouse Point to the city for parkland.

But so far, the point is untouched. A herd of deer roams amid old cedars and spruce, and people stroll through grasses and wildflowers.

The point essentially is a hardened flow of lava; at its craggy edges, there are lichen-covered nooks and crannies where people can sit and watch the lake and passing boats.

From there, we walked past the public boat launch and over to the Edna G., across land once called Whiskey Row for its saloons. 

The little tug was at its best when disaster struck, rescuing 13 men from the wrecked Niagara in 1904 and 24 from the Edenborn during the big storm of 1905.

For nearly a century, she pulled boats off reefs and broke through ice, often damaging herself.

Volunteer Bob Munson gave us a tour of the restored tug, the last coal-powered boat to operate on the Great Lakes.

"Once, a fireman loaded 2 tons of coal over a 17-hour shift and he lost 13 pounds," Munson said.

The Edna G. already was retired when the pilothouse of the Frontenac, which ran aground in a 1979 snow squall, was scrapped and brought to rest on the front lawn of the lighthouse. The pilothouse now holds exhibits, including the bill of lading for the Edmund Fitzgerald's last load.

"It's amazing how dangerous the lake still is, despite all the advances in technology," Torsten said.

As it grew dark, we decided to settle into the lighthouse and order in pizza. As innkeeper Lana Harris got a head start on the next day's breakfast, she told us about the ghosts some people report seeing.

"(Former Minnesota attorney general) Mike Hatch came with his mother, and they heard someone scrabbling around in the kitchen," Harris said. "There was a single woman staying in the Skiff House, a nurse or scientist, who said a vase moved on the table and she felt someone lie on the bed.

"When I started working here, I had a conversation with the ghost: 'I don't want you bothering me when I'm here working alone.' ''

Only one person died at the lighthouse, a 24-year-old keeper's daughter who had heart and kidney disease. That was in 1902. 

Kathy Meyer, the wife of the last keeper, was ill when the Coast Guard turned over the lighthouse to the historical society in 1987 and she had to leave, but she didn't die until 1999. 

She did love the lighthouse, and her ashes were scattered over the lake in front of it.

In the evening, we sat in the parlor, nibbling Key lime cookies and reading more about the lighthouse. There were other reports of odd phenomena: a bouncing ball of light in the Frontenac, the smell of pipe tobacco, an old gentleman in the window.

That night, I awoke to the crack of a flag whipping in the wind and got up to close the window. But there was no flag.

When I got up in the morning, Avis and Bob Savre of Longville, Minn., already had put up the flag, and I asked them if the lines had been loose. Avis Savre's eyes grew wide.

"She was here!" she said. "We chased her away. At least she didn't come in the house."

Over breakfast, we talked to the other guests. Charlotte Hipscher of Hudson, Wis., had reserved her lighthouse room as a 29th-anniversary surprise for her husband, Michael.

"I like the views and the history," Michael Hipscher said.

"Whenever we see a lighthouse, vroom, we have to go there," his wife said.

Their keeper's duty had been to monitor the rotation of the two beacons, which each flash three times a minute and can be seen from 17 miles away in good conditions. The society maintains the light as a navigational aid to private boats and aircraft.

"Last night, we went up to the tower and opened all the portholes," Charlotte Hipscher said. "It's fascinating; it's like being in a fish bowl."

With the rest of our time, we visited the assistant keeper's house, which holds a display on local shipwrecks and photos of the ore boats that visit Agate Bay: the Arthur Anderson, the Edwin Gott, the Roger Blough.

Then we got back on the train. For the return, it  included a 1962 Soo Line 700 locomotive, two 1960s bilevel cars, an open car and a caboose to accommodate a fall-color crowd of more than 200.

Everyone got to see the historic lighthouse, flaming red in the midday sun. But only we had served it "with honor and distinction," and we had the certificate to prove it.

Trip Tips: Two Harbors Lighthouse Run

The Lighthouse B&B in Two Harbors will book the train trip for guests who stay Friday night and send an innkeeper to pick them up at the depot.

Book as early as possible for Fridays in fall. The train and lighthouse also can be enjoyed on separate trips.

North Shore Scenic Railroad: The 26-mile run to and from Two Harbors leaves Duluth at 10:30 a.m., arrives in Two Harbors from noon to 12:30 p.m. and returns to Duluth at 2:30 p.m.

The excursion runs Fridays and Saturdays from Memorial Day through June, then Friday-Sunday through mid-August.

In 2013, a steam locomotive will pull the train Aug. 16-17, 23-24 and 30-31 and Sept. 6-7 and 13-14.

Fall colors trains run Friday-Sunday from Sept. 20 through Oct. 20.

Passengers can spend the night in Two Harbors Friday and return on the Saturday train. Book early, especially for fall weekends. 800-423-1273.

There's also a one-way bike train, $20. Reservations are required.

The volunteer-run railroad also has regular pizza and dinner trains, as well as occasional theme trains.

Accommodations: The Lighthouse B&B has three spare but tasteful rooms. They share one bathroom, and there's a half-bath in the basement.

The Skiff House, on the grounds adjoining the visitors center, has its own bathroom and hot tub. The inn is run by volunteers from the historical society, 888-832-5606.

If the lighthouse is full, there are other places in Two Harbors. Call 800-777-7384.

For more about the area, see Discovering Two Harbors.

Boat-watching: Agate Bay receives an average of about one boat a day, and boat arrival times are estimated by the Lake Superior Maritime Visitor Center in Duluth.

They're listed on the boat-watcher's hot line, 218-722-6489.

Museums: The Lake County Historical Society sells tickets at the Depot for the four museums it runs.

The Depot and the lighthouse open in late April or early May; Edna G. and 3M Museum open Memorial Day weekend. 218-834-4898.

Last updated on April 8, 2013