Growing up in coastal New England, I ranked lighthouses on par with sunblock and snowplows — essential, ordinary, and totally lacking romance (my primary preoccupation). Only later did these storied structures, and their keepers, capture my imagination. What was it like to live at the edge of the world, guiding mariners to safety? To look out the window and see nothing but sea? When I met my partner and fell in love, my fantasy expanded: just the two of us, a cozy bed, and water, water everywhere, lulling us to sleep.
Last July, we were among the first-ever guests to experience an “Overnight at the Light” in the fully restored Greens Ledge Lighthouse, a mile off the coast of the village of Rowayton, in southwestern Connecticut. For one night, we savored the storybook beauty and seclusion of a historic landmark, 360-degree views of the water and shoreline, and the modern amenities of a hotel.
But first, lunch. Friends who live in the area urged us to try their favorite spot, the Rowayton Seafood Restaurant & Market, which is perched on the shore of the Five Mile River. The oysters and lobster rolls were so exceptional that we ordered a pair of steak sandwiches to bring to the lighthouse for dinner. Then we ambled down to the dock to meet our host, Tim Pettee, who helped us into his skiff and turned the bow southward.
Pettee is an investment advisor who lives in town. In 2016, when his teenage daughter learned that the federal government was auctioning off their own local icon — Greens Ledge Lighthouse has guided sailors since 1902 — she urged him to place a bid. He offered $150,000, and won. “Then I had to figure out what to do with it!” he said, laughing.
We brought our steak sandwiches and a cold bottle of Chardonnay out to watch the sunset; afterward, the darkness felt thick and ancient.
Listed by the National Register of Historic Places as “deteriorated” — just one rung above “ruins” — the building needed a lot of work. To raise funds, Pettee, his son, and several friends founded a nonprofit, the Greens Ledge Light Preservation Society. In 2023, after five years of meticulous restoration, they opened to the public, offering tours, private parties, and overnight stays.
As we neared the lighthouse, I marveled at the stark beauty of the freshly painted red-and-white tower rising from the sea. Pettee pointed out the patio and two observation decks, each furnished with picnic tables and Adirondack chairs. With two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a fully equipped kitchen, the lighthouse can sleep six. (It accommodates non-overnight parties of up to 50.) Docking the boat, Pettee explained how to lower and raise the gangplank and where to find the swim ladder and paddleboards.
Pettee also showed us the solar panels that provide power and the desalination system that makes seawater drinkable. Then he headed back to shore, saying he would fetch us the following morning.
We changed into our swimsuits, dove off the floating dock, and swam around for a while, then rinsed off in the outdoor shower. We brought our steak sandwiches and a cold bottle of Chardonnay out to watch the sunset; afterward, the darkness felt thick and ancient.
The next day, when Pettee came to retrieve us, I couldn’t decide which I’d preferred: drifting off to sleep to the sound of the waves, or waking to the early morning cries of seabirds. Or how, viewed from the bed, the sea and sky through the windows were as perfect and wild as a Mark Rothko painting.
A version of this story first appeared in the February 2024 issue of Travel + Leisure under the headline “That’s Lit.”