Austria built it for the needs of the Trieste port, as the most important one in the monarchy. For Italy, it was an important border control point after the Treaty of Rapallo. The Germans tried to blow it up in 1945, and Yugoslavia modernized it and almost classified it as a military secret. Croatia boasts it as the oldest and its westernmost and northernmost active lighthouse on the Adriatic. It is managed, and behind it, it has, well, states and wars and social systems, but it has tucked away in the past everything - from emperors to marshals. It is the guardian of borders that move around it, while it has stood in the same place since 1818.
We climb the stone semicircular stairs, 152 steps, 29 meters up or 36 from sea level, all the way to the "cage", as lighthouse keepers call the topmost part where the light burns. In the distance, ships, Venice, Trieste, Slovenia, below us a campsite, villas with pools, tourists strolling and taking selfies. People are so small beneath it.
Special flags announced ships
Mario Milin-Ungar, the Savudrija lighthouse keeper, goes up there at least once a day, sometimes more - even seven times.
- This is the westernmost lighthouse, but not the westernmost territorial point - says Mario, pointing from the top of the lighthouse towards the Lako cove and its cape, 300 meters away.
- On that side is Učka, here is the Borosia cove, that is still ours. Over there is Slovenia, to the left is Piran, and to the right Portorož. Behind, do you see that white building between the two hills, that‘s the hospital in Trieste, to the left is Monfalcone, then Grado, down there is Venice, but you can‘t see it now. It can be seen twice a year when the bora is strong - Mario shows as we walk around the top of the lighthouse.
On the fence we are holding onto, mobile operator repeaters are screwed in. Should we especially point out how they fit into this historic structure?
The main machine in the lighthouse turns around, the large lens rotates around the bulb, focusing the light and throwing it for miles. To the traveler on the horizon, it looks like a flash - three in a row, then seven seconds of darkness. This is Savudrija‘s code, known on all nautical charts, and the next lighthouse cannot have the same, so sailors do not get confused. From 17-18 nautical miles, regardless of the city lights, only it is visible.
The Savudrija lighthouse was designed by architect Pietro Nobile, commissioned by the Trieste Chamber of Commerce, that is, Deputazione di Borsa, and the main patron was the Austrian Emperor Francis I. Construction began in March 1817. By December, 80 percent of the total height had already been built. Local stone from the nearby shore was used and processed on site. The sharp cuts of the stonemason can be seen on the shore under the lighthouse where it was extracted.
The first lighting of the lighthouse took place on April 17, 1818, a little more than a year after construction began. The Emperor himself attended the lighting because Savudrija was on his way from Trieste where he was at an important meeting.
It was recorded that the Chamber of the City of Trieste sold some shares to finance the construction. It was in their interest for the waterway to the local port to be safe so that it could develop without hindrance. In addition, the Savudrija lighthouse also had an important means of communication because it can be seen from Opicina above Trieste.
What did it look like in practice? With special flags from the Savudrija lighthouse, they announced approaching ships, and possibly potential dangers, so the Trieste port authorities could be ready in time for reception or defense. On the lower third of the lighthouse in the direction of Trieste, there was an opening, like an exit to a balcony, but as the need disappeared over time, it was bricked up, which can be seen by the stone.
With a floatie to the lighthouse
The uniqueness of this building does not end there - it is the first lighthouse in the world to use gas obtained by coal distillation for lighting. The raw material came from coal mines. The gas was produced by Anton Domek from Labinština, and the installation was already working from 1818, a full 47 years before the first recorded systems elsewhere in the world. The system was technologically advanced for its time, but not stable - problems with soot and filters led to a return to oil as early as 1823. In case of a malfunction of the gas installation, oil could be used for lighting. The introduction of alternative fuel - gas - for the lighthouse operation caused much higher expenses than initially planned, so the lighthouse on the island of Porer near Cape Premantura was not built at that time.
After construction, the lighthouse was a real attraction - locals, and especially travelers, were eager to climb to its top. That is why lighthouse keepers were allowed to carry weapons and use them if necessary. The first lighthouse keepers were Stefano Schmidt and Bartolomeo Micala. In 1828, the first was replaced by Giovanni Giacomo Maurel from a Savudrija family that still lives in that place.
Today, only one lighthouse keeper works in the lighthouse - our host Mario - because the lighting is automated. He, of course, is not armed with firearms, but has the same problem as his predecessors Stefano, Bartolomeo, and Giovanni: tourists use every opportunity to climb to the top, even though it is strictly forbidden. And even though they have to enter the yard, then the hall, then through two doors without authorization to reach the base of the lighthouse, they find a way, and in their swimsuits, with towels and floaties, they pop up to the top to see what‘s there. That is why Mario makes sure to lock the door behind him.
About this cult place, understandably, legends intertwine. The oldest and most famous is that the construction was supervised by the Austrian politician Count Metternich, who fell in love with a beautiful woman from Labin at the Viennese court Giselle. Allegedly, a summer house next to the lighthouse was built for her as a pledge of love. The long-haired brunette from Vienna therefore returned to her family home in Istria, eagerly awaiting the completion of the works. But illness came first - Giselle died of pneumonia just a few days after the lighthouse shone its first light. The sad count remained alone for the rest of his life.
A legend, but a true one
There is another one - lighthouse keeper Mario tells us that it is true, and it is somewhat more recent. It is set at the very end of the Second World War, and again love is in the background. A German soldier, during the retreat, was ordered to blow up the Savudrija port and lighthouse. He mined the port, but not the lighthouse - allegedly because of his love for a local girl. The story did not end there because the girl went with him to Germany, they had children there, and now, as adults, they visit the Savudrija monument.
Lighthouse keepers from Palagruža: ‘We jumped to the window and saw that we were moving left-right!‘
Lighthouse keeper Mario, born in Makarska, has an interesting family history. His late father Milan was also a lighthouse keeper, as was Milan‘s aunt, grandfather‘s sister, then great-grandfather and great-great-grandfather. The only one in the lineage who did not take up the lighthouse was the grandfather, who was wounded in World War II and died young. Mario tells us this in his office below the Savudrija lighthouse. On the wall are two or three photos of the lighthouse on the Mulo rock near Šibenik. His father once worked there, and Mario, although he was unaware of it because he was only two months and two days old, "set foot" on a lighthouse for the first time there. It seems that at that moment, the light from the lighthouse flowed through his veins, the genetic code was activated, and the lighthouse keeper‘s fate was sealed.
The father received a "transfer" to Savudrija in 1985, and the family moved with him - his wife and two children. The younger Mario was six years old. At that time, lighthouse keepers physically turned the lighthouses on and off. In the nearby apartments with three flats lived three lighthouse keeper families, but as the system was automated, only one was needed. Mario‘s father Milan retired, unfortunately soon passed away, and Mario inherited the job. He has a son Adrian - the boy is 20 years old and studying, so it‘s hard to say whether the lighthouse keeper lineage will continue. The question is, however, how long there will be a need for a human hand in the oldest lighthouse.
Mario trained as a chef, and worked in that job for a while, but as he says, he was born at the lighthouse and it was his destiny. As a boy, he would visit the harbor lighthouses in the Umag area with his dad once a month, and climb this central - Savudrija one, controlling the light that was then powered by gas. Now it is powered by a battery.
- My working day starts around 7 o‘clock, and even earlier in winter. I check the lighthouse from outside, report to the boss in Pula, and after that, if there are no other plans, I do maintenance. The lighthouse is quite large, there is always work, usually janitorial jobs, repairs, routine maintenance. The lighthouse has cells and when it "sees" that it is getting dark, the main lights turn on. If the power goes out, we have a generator, and if the generator fails, there is a backup light. Until then, I am here to fix the fault - says Mario, adding that working at the lighthouse is not so much a job as a way of life because you become one with the object - you don‘t have annual leave, but you don‘t need it either.
Our lighthouses are managed by the state company Plovput, headquartered in Split, so lighthouse keepers are their employees.
Realistically, Mario shouldn‘t have to go to the top every day, but he says - if not for the lighthouse, then for himself, so he can be sure everything is working as it should. There are problems with power surges, lightning strikes, which can seriously disrupt the routine. We ask him if there is anything that still fascinates him after all these years.
Lightning rips out sockets
- There is. The lighthouse itself. The way they carved that stone to the millimeter, and I‘m not just talking about the tower, but also about this supporting structure, how they closed it to the millimeter, rounded it so that the whole tower rests on it, and fits perfectly. They didn‘t just care about the lighthouse being safe, but also how it looks. When the plaster is removed, you can see the stone, you can see how they made the scaffolding: they put beams in the holes to build the scaffolding, and then as they went further, they patched those holes - says Mario.
And what is bad?
- The bora is bad. Jugo is more dangerous. And the westerners coming from the sea. When a storm comes, we like lightning the most. It struck several times, ripped out sockets, burned equipment - he says.
And in your free time?
- In my free time, I‘m at the lighthouse – he says.
Mario also has a large orchard and vegetable garden, and a lawn he mows regularly. Is it better or worse for him or for the lighthouse keeper on the rock, it‘s hard to say. His colleagues work there for 15 days, then their shift comes and they go home. Mario is on the mainland, so there are no such shifts, but he is always at home. And there are many curious tourists to whom he must explain daily that climbing is not allowed.
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