Two years ago, I rented an apartment on Queens Quay because its windows faced Lake Ontario. I still live there. I often sit by the window, watch the water, and let my mind wander. Daydreaming has always given me pleasure, though it can also be painful. I can spend so long imagining a place that I forget I could go there.
The Toronto Islands are part of my view. For two years, I watched ferries carry people across the harbour and kept meaning to board one. Then one summer ended, and another was nearly over.
On Sunday, I stood at the waterfront looking toward the islands. I was thinking how unfortunate it was that I had let another summer pass when I heard bagpipes. For a moment, I thought the music came from across the water. It felt as though the islands, tired of waiting for me, had called out.
I turned around and saw the musicians: Toronto firefighters in dark jackets and red tartan kilts. I followed them to a memorial ceremony near the harbour. Fourteen names were being added to the city’s honour roll for fallen firefighters. One of the pipers passed close by, and I could see the effort it took to play while walking. I had heard the music before I knew what it meant.
I stayed for a while, then looked back at the islands. For two years, I had treated the crossing as something I could do whenever I wanted. Now I was standing at a ceremony for people whose lives had ended. The thought was simple, perhaps even selfish: life was short. Why was I still postponing a ferry ride? I went to the terminal.
The crossing was brief. On the island, I rented a bicycle and rode past old houses, stopping to see the church.
At times I thought of nothing beyond the path ahead. I was happy to be there. The city had become a view across the water, just as the islands had always been a view from my apartment.
Then I reached the Gibraltar Point Lighthouse.
I searched for the name of its first keeper. John Paul Radelmüller had come to York after a long journey from Germany through Britain and Nova Scotia. Appointed in 1809, he tended the lamp and watched for approaching vessels, including during the War of 1812. In January 1815, he was killed. Two soldiers were tried for his murder and acquitted. The trial proceedings have not survived. As the years passed, stories spread that his ghost still wandered near the tower.
I looked at the lighthouse windows. Perhaps, I thought, he had been the one calling me across the water. It was the sort of idea I might have invented while daydreaming at home. Yet the keeper himself had been real. So had the nights he spent watching the lake, while people aboard the boats depended on a light they might never think to thank him for.
I turned toward Toronto. From the island, the waterfront looked peaceful. Somewhere along that shore, I had heard the bagpipes that morning. I had come here for the pleasure of an afternoon away from the city, but the ceremony had stayed with me. The keeper and the firefighters lived two centuries apart, yet both had looked out for others. I stood beside the old tower, thinking of the fourteen names and all the names I would never know.
If you’re interested in the history of the Toronto Islands, I recommend reading this book. I recently had the pleasure of meeting Jim, and I’ll be writing more about his work soon.
In the belowe video, Jim reads an excerpt from his book.
In James Joyce’s short story “The Dead,” a song brings back Gretta’s memory of Michael Furey, a young man who died long ago. I wondered if the bagpipes had done something similar to me. I had heard them while looking toward the islands, and their music had drawn me across the water to this tower. Perhaps, in my own daydreaming way, I had come to meet the ghost of its first keeper.
The bagpipes had made me think about the time I had left. From the island, I found myself looking back at the people who helped make ordinary days possible.
I took the ferry home and searched the waterfront for my apartment. I am grateful to Radelmüller for the light he kept for others, and to the firefighters who answer when strangers need help. I only hope the first keeper’s ghost stayed on the island. I already have enough nightmares without finding a lighthouse keeper in my living room.
YF, September 28, 2026
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