If you’re standing on the north end of Cumberland Island National Seashore, squinting through the salt haze toward the horizon, you might spot a ghost. It’s a white brick tower, standing roughly 60 feet tall, poking out from the dense maritime forest of a private neighbor. That’s the Little Cumberland Island Lighthouse. Honestly, it's one of the most frustratingly beautiful spots on the Georgia coast because, for the average traveler, it’s basically off-limits.
It sits on private land.
Most people confuse Little Cumberland with its big brother, the "First" Cumberland Island Light, which was built way back in 1820. But that one is long gone. The tower you see today—the Little Cumberland Island Lighthouse—was the replacement, finished in 1838 to guide mariners through the treacherous St. Andrew Sound. It’s a survivor. It has lived through hurricanes, the Civil War, and decades of neglect, yet it still stands there, private and silent, surrounded by some of the most pristine wilderness left in the American South.
Why the Little Cumberland Island Lighthouse Is Different
Most lighthouses in the U.S. are now museum pieces or Coast Guard assets. You pay ten bucks, climb a spiral staircase, buy a postcard, and leave. Not here. Little Cumberland Island is a private homeowners' association. You can’t just dock a boat and wander up to the lantern room. This exclusivity has created a weird sort of time capsule. While the rest of the world modernized, the dunes around this light stayed exactly as they were in the 19th century.
The tower itself has a unique design. It’s a conical brick structure, but it tapers significantly as it rises. It’s got that classic "St. Augustine" vibe but without the flashy paint job. For a long time, it was just raw, weathered brick, though it’s been painted white over the years to help it stand out against the green oaks.
Building it wasn't easy. Winslow Lewis, a name you'll see a lot if you study American lighthouse history, was the guy behind the original design. He was a bit of a controversial figure back then—some called his lighting systems "dim" compared to the European Fresnel lenses—but his towers were built to last. He used a mixture of hydraulic cement and lime that has resisted the corrosive salt air for nearly 200 years.
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The Civil War and the Great Blackout
When the Civil War broke out, lighthouses became tactical targets. Not for destruction, usually, but for "darkening." Confederate forces didn't want Union ships using the lights to navigate Southern harbors.
In 1861, the lens was removed. The light went dark.
It stayed dark for years. It wasn't until 1867, after the smoke had cleared and the country was trying to piece itself back together, that the light was refitted. This time, they didn't use the old Lewis lamps. They installed a third-order Fresnel lens. If you’ve never seen one of these up close, they are masterpieces of glasswork—massive beehives of prisms that could throw a beam of light 14 miles out to sea.
Abandonment and the "Living" Ruins
The light was eventually decommissioned in 1915. Technology moved on. Range lights and buoys became more efficient than maintaining a manned station on a remote, mosquito-infested island. For a long time, the lighthouse just sat there. It rotted.
Vines started to crawl up the brick. The keeper's house—a place where families once lived, cooked, and watched the tides—eventually fell into complete ruin. By the mid-20th century, the lighthouse was a shell.
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But then, the families who owned Little Cumberland Island stepped in.
They didn't want to see it crumble into the Atlantic. In the late 1990s and early 2000s, a massive restoration project took place. They reinforced the lantern room and restored the masonry. They even put a non-navigational light back in the top, so it glows at night like a phantom. It doesn’t guide tankers anymore, but it serves as a beacon for the people who call that private stretch of sand home.
The Reality of Seeing It Today
You want to see it? You’ve got a few options, but none involve walking through the front door.
- The Boat Approach: This is the most common way. You can take a boat through the Intracoastal Waterway or out into St. Andrew Sound. From the water, you get a clear view of the tower rising above the trees.
- The North End Hike: If you are visiting the Cumberland Island National Seashore (the public part), you can hike all the way to the northern tip of the island. Across the narrow tidal creek, you’ll see the lighthouse. Bring binoculars. Serious ones.
- Aerial Tours: Some small plane tours out of St. Simons or Fernandina Beach fly over the islands. From the air, the geography of Little Cumberland makes sense—it’s a tiny, fragile barrier island that looks like it’s barely holding on against the ocean.
There is no bridge. No ferry for the public. No gift shop.
What People Often Get Wrong
There’s a persistent rumor that the lighthouse is haunted by a "Lady in Blue." Honestly, every lighthouse has a ghost story. It’s part of the brand. But there’s no historical record of any tragic deaths at Little Cumberland that fit the bill. Most of the "ghostly" sightings are likely just the way the light hits the white paint at dusk or the sound of the wind whistling through the vents in the lantern room.
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Another misconception? That it’s part of the National Park Service. It isn't. While the National Seashore wraps around it, the lighthouse and the island it sits on are entirely private property. If you try to trek across the marsh to get to it, you’re trespassing. And the residents are very protective of their privacy—and the nesting sea turtles that call their beaches home.
Technical Details for the History Buffs
- Height: 60 feet.
- Material: Brick with a cast-iron lantern.
- First Lit: 1838.
- Deactivated: 1915.
- Current Status: Private Aid to Navigation (meaning it stays lit for aesthetics/private use).
The iron spiral staircase inside is still largely intact, though the heat inside that tower during a Georgia July is something most humans shouldn't have to endure. It’s like an oven. The keepers used to spend hours polishing the brass and glass in that heat, battling clouds of "no-see-ums" and gnats.
How to Respect the Site While Exploring
Since you can't go inside, the best way to "experience" the Little Cumberland Island Lighthouse is to understand its place in the ecosystem. The island is a critical habitat for loggerhead sea turtles. If you’re on a boat nearby, keep your speed down. If you’re looking from the National Seashore side, stay on the designated paths to avoid crushing the dunes.
The lighthouse is a reminder of a time when the Georgia coast was a dark, dangerous place for sailors. It’s a monument to the transition from the "Golden Age of Sail" to the industrial era. Even if we can't touch the bricks, we can appreciate the fact that it hasn't been turned into a luxury condo or a parking lot. It’s still there, tucked away in the oaks, doing exactly what it was built to do: stand watch over the sound.
Actionable Steps for Your Visit
If you're planning to catch a glimpse of this landmark, don't just wing it.
- Check the Tides: If you’re viewing from a boat, the currents in St. Andrew Sound are brutal. Low tide exposes massive sandbars that can trap an inexperienced boater.
- Gear Up: Take a camera with at least a 300mm lens if you want a decent photo. From the public beach on the north end of Cumberland, the lighthouse is still a good distance away.
- Book a Local Charter: Captains out of St. Marys or St. Simons know exactly where to position the boat for the best light. Ask for a "lighthouse run" specifically.
- Visit the Cumberland Island Museum: Located in St. Marys, this museum has artifacts and deeper historical context about both islands. It’s the best way to see the "insides" of the island’s history without trespassing.
The Little Cumberland Island Lighthouse remains one of Georgia’s most elusive treasures. It’s a private sentinel in a public world. Respect the boundaries, bring your long-range lenses, and enjoy the view of one of the last truly quiet spots on the Atlantic coast.