All language subtitles for NOVA.S43E21.OperationLighthouseRescue.Eng

The Gay Head Light,
on Martha's Vineyard.

For 160 years,

it's warned sailors away
from deadly rocks.

It's not the rocks
that you can see;

it's the ones that you can't see
that's going to kill you.

A guiding light
in fair weather and foul.

But now, its very existence
hangs in the balance.

Here's the lighthouse
on the edge.

This is something
we've got to deal with.

Teetering on an eroding cliff,

it's in danger of sliding
into the sea.

Open the valve!

Now, a team of elite engineers

wages an epic battle
to save it.

Whoa!

If it falls down,
we're out of business!

Risking deadly storms
and brittle brickwork

to move the lighthouse inland
before it's too late.

When you're dealing

with these old buildings,
there's always surprises.

Here it comes!

You just have to be ready
for it.

Can they protect
this famous landmark

for generations to come?

Mother Nature has set a clock,

and it's been ticking louder
and louder and louder.

"Operation Lighthouse Rescue,"
right now on NOVA.

Major fuNARRATOR: NOVA is
proviMartha's Vineyard,ng...

an island seven miles
off the coast of Cape Cod.

Each summer, hundreds
of thousands flock here:

tourists, celebrities,
even presidents.

They're drawn by the island's
rugged beauty,

New England charm,
and rich maritime history.

In the town of Aquinnah,

at the remote western tip
of the island,

is a beautiful promontory
known as Gay Head.

Here, there is
a very special landmark

that has captured the hearts

of generations of islanders
and tourists alike:

the Gay Head Lighthouse.

It's been here for 160 years,
keeping fishermen out of danger.

My dad used the Gay Head Light
before me,

and my grandfather before him.

But now this iconic lighthouse
is in trouble herself.

She's about to fall
off the crumbling cliff.

It's not always sunny and calm
along this coastline.

Ocean storms can send
punishing waves and rain

pounding against these cliffs,
causing constant erosion,

putting this landmark
in jeopardy.

Built in 1856,
this working lighthouse

watches over what was once
America's busiest shipping lane.

In the 19th century,
tens of thousands of ships

passed between Cape Cod and
Martha's Vineyard every year.

The Gay Head Light
had the country's first

Native American keeper,
Charles W. Vanderhoop Senior.

He was a member
of the Aquinnah Wampanoag Tribe,

which has called
Martha's Vineyard home

for over 10,000 years.

His relatives still live here,

including charter fisherman
Buddy Vanderhoop.

He sails these waters every day.

Wiley, can you smell
any fish?

Another beautiful day
in paradise.

If Buddy's GPS goes down,
he relies on the Gay Head Light.

There are over 600 lighthouses
in America.

Each lighthouse has its own
signature markings,

light colors,
and rotation speed,

helping seafarers to distinguish
one lighthouse from another.

These characteristics are marked
on nautical charts.

The Gay Head beacon gives
one white and one red flash,

alternating
across a 15-second interval.

It has an elevation
of 175 feet above sea level

and can project its light
for 20 miles.

This information allows mariners
to locate their position

in relation to rocks, shallows,

and other dangers
identified on the chart.

If you're not careful,

you're going to sink your boat.

The Gay Head Light warns
of this lethal shoal,

called Moshup's Bridge
by the Aquinnah Wampanoag,

also known as "Devil's Bridge,"

hundreds of huge boulders
left behind as the cliff eroded.

There's one
of the big rocks here.

This is called Cook's Rock.

But there's another rock
right here

which is called the Camel Back.

That has eaten many a boat.

It's not the rocks
that you can see;

it's the ones that you can't see
that's going to kill you.

On a cold January night in 1884,

despite the warning provided
by the lighthouse,

the passenger vessel
SS City of Columbus

steered too close to the rocks
of Moshup's Bridge.

She ran aground and sank quickly
in rough seas

before anyone could
sound the whistle.

Two lifeboat crews
of Aquinnah Wampanoag

were part of the rescue mission,

but only 29 of the 132 aboard
were saved.

Without this lighthouse,

accidents like this
could be far more common.

This is why the Gay Head Light
is here:

to keep people away from this
part of the hydraulic landscape,

I guess you would call it.

She's a grand old gal,
and I love the Gay Head Light.

Today, the lighthouse keeper
is Richard Skidmore.

He was the first to realize
how close this community was

to losing this
precious landmark.

One day, I was walking
onto the property

and I saw 40 running feet
of fence missing.

Of course, I looked over
and there it was.

About two feet had eroded,
right at that cliff edge.

That was shocking,
and it really spoke to me.

Here's the lighthouse
on the edge.

This is something we've got
to deal with right about now.

The lighthouse stands
just 46 feet from the edge

of the eroding bluff.

A collapse could be
just a few bad storms away,

totally destroying
this historic structure.

It wouldn't be
the first building

to be consumed by the sea here.

On the neighboring island
of Nantucket,

erosion like this
has recently claimed six homes

that have collapsed
off the crumbling cliffs.

New England is regularly
battered by fierce nor'easters,

tropical storms,
and sometimes even hurricanes.

To rescue the light,

the islanders have come up
with a daring plan.

They'll attempt
to move it inland.

Mother Nature has set a clock,

and it's been ticking louder
and louder and louder.

And we've heard its call,

and we've rallied to save this
light before it was too late.

Once the structure is moved,

they will build up
a masonry foundation...

Building contractor Len Butler

has lived in the town
of Aquinnah

on Martha's Vineyard
for 45 years.

He's part of a community
that has worked tirelessly

to raise more than
three million dollars

needed to move
the Gay Head Light.

Hi, Stephanie!

Another member
has arrived.

We share an extreme passion.

This is an important work
that we're doing,

because if we don't do it,
no one else will.

Now that they've raised
the money,

the big question is,
how exactly do you move

a tall, fragile,
160-year-old brick tower

without destroying it
in the process?

It's a unique
and daunting challenge,

but one that this man,

Jerry Matyiko,
has faced many times.

You brought
the plumb bob out?

Yeah, I got
a plumb bob out.

Jerry is quite
an impressive guy.

He's a "no bones about it,

let's get down to business"
kind of guy.

Are you going to stand
in the way of my laser?

When he's in full swing,
just stay out of his way.

Balancing precision
and brute force,

instinctively knowing
when to use the scalpel

and when to use
the sledgehammer,

Jerry has made a name
for himself

at transporting
large structures.

Go ahead.

During his 50-year career,

he's moved more than
a thousand buildings,

muscling mansions,
carrying churches,

even relocating ancient relics.

We've moved more buildings
over a thousand tons

than anyone in the world.

Just like getting an operation,
you don't want a doctor

the first time
he ever operated on you;

you want somebody that did it
quite a few times.

Same way with the lighthouse.

If you want to spend
quality time with my dad,

you'd better be on a house
moving job site somewhere

because that's where he's at
most of the time.

At the age of 68, he still lives
and dies for this stuff.

Every move presents
a new puzzle.

Jerry works with engineers

to devise custom relocation
plans for each job.

One option for moving
the Gay Head Light

would be to number
every single one

of the hundred thousand bricks
in the structure,

creating a 3D map
of the building.

He could then dismantle
and move it brick-by-brick,

rebuilding the lighthouse
a safe distance inland.

This requires
very little machinery,

but takes a lot of time.

If you took
the whole building apart,

yes, you'd be here
for a couple of years--

if nothing else,
just cleaning the bricks.

A speedier option

would be to cut holes
in the lighthouse walls,

thread steel support beams
through the structure,

then use a crane to lift
the lighthouse in sections

over to a new location
further inland.

They could then
take out the beams

and patch up the holes.

This method is fast,

but cutting up
an historic brick structure

could cause irreparable damage.

Well, if you cut it in sections,

when you put it back together,

you either
won't match the bricks

or the mortar will not match.

You'd just make
a bunch of people mad.

So Jerry needs an option that's
both fast and minimizes damage.

We'll move

the whole thing at once.

Don't take it apart.

So here's the plan.

He's going to build a railroad
to move the lighthouse back.

Step one:
dig out a flat surface.

Then clear the soft clay,

exposing the structure's
granite foundation.

Build a massive steel platform
beneath its base

to support the building
and keep it level.

Using hydraulic jacks,
Jerry will lift the lighthouse,

supporting the building
on wooden blocks and steel beams

as it rises.

Next, he'll slide a set
of steel tracks underneath.

Rollers sandwiched

between the base
of the lighthouse and the rails

will help it slide.

A pair of giant pistons
will slowly push the lighthouse

along the steel rails
134 feet inland.

At the new footing,

the team will use the jacks
to lower the building down,

build up a new foundation,
and landscape the area.

At least, that's the plan.

But this move
to the new location

is not without its risks.

With the original architectural
plans nowhere to be found,

the building could hold secrets
that will make their job harder.

When you're dealing
with these old buildings,

there's always surprises,

and you just have to be ready
for it.

As if that weren't bad enough,
the weather also holds a threat.

Hurricane season
officially begins on June 1,

only three weeks away.

With climate change,
sea levels are rising faster

than any time
in the last 3,000 years.

These factors are likely
to speed erosion at Gay Head,

putting the lighthouse
literally on the edge.

The worst mover you could get
to move it is Mother Nature.

If she takes it over the cliff,

that's not the way
you want to go.

You want to go the other way.

To move the lighthouse
to safety,

first they have to free it
from the earth.

So they will attack the clay

beneath the building's
granite foundation blocks,

digging it out bit by bit.

As the earth comes out,

an interlocking grid
of 30 steel beams will slide in

to support the entire weight
of the lighthouse.

It may not look like it,

but this heavy labor
requires a delicate touch.

Otherwise,
the building could tilt.

It's probably
the most critical part

of the whole operation,
because you are taking away

what the original builders
had depended upon for support.

You have to be careful
not to tip the scale in any way,

because the result
would be disastrous.

We're totally going
underneath the lighthouse.

That's part of the job.

We try to treat it
like an old lady,

be nice to it.

You don't want
to ruffle her feathers.

There's little margin for error.

They don't want to over-excavate

before the first steel beam is
in position,

so it must be dug by hand.

Joe!

This job falls to Jerry's
trusted team of two:

Joey and Bush.

It is really tough.

It's physical.

It is physical.

It's like a machine.

Everybody is a certain part
of the machine.

Once everybody works together,
it continuously runs properly.

With more than 400 tons
of stonework above them,

as they excavate,

they must constantly shore up
the structure overhead

or risk a crushing cave-in.

They finally make it
through 20 feet of heavy clay.

I had never dug
that much dirt before, ever.

They can only dig away so much

before they must replace
the earth with steel.

It's very analogous

to threading a needle, so it's a
thick thread through a tiny eye.

You got maybe four inches

on each side of the beam.

Work safe, that's the big thing.

We keep preaching to the guys,
work safe.

Whoa!

It doesn't take

but a small mistake
to have a lot of trouble.

Is it not level yet?

I'm level!

If it falls down,

we're out of business!

How's the other side reading?

Is it leaning
the same way?

Yeah, they're both centered!

It takes two days
of hard digging and maneuvering

to get the critical first beam
in place.

Oh, once we got
that first beam in,

it was like you'd won a prize,

because you just want
to get it done

and move on to something else.

I mean, that was a physical job.

But there are 29 beams to go.

Choosing where
to relocate the lighthouse

means finding a place
that will be safe from erosion

for generations to come.

So Byron Stone,
from the U.S. Geological Survey,

has been studying
the soil composition here.

See a piece right here?

Oh, that's a huge block!

Huge block,

about to fail.

This will soon be down there
to join the other ones.

Don't jump!

No, no, okay.

Byron has studied the position
of the bluff edge

from maps made
between 1870 and 2012.

His analysis shows
how the cliffs here

have been dramatically eroded
over time.

Based on this information,
the bluffs could retreat

a further 125 feet
over the next hundred years.

The bluffs get eroded by waves
at the bottom

and by failure at the top.

And we also know

that's where there are
some groundwater springs.

We think that those springs

weaken the structure of the sand
beneath the bluff,

and that's what
undercuts

the steep bluff and sod
at the lighthouse.

The geology
beneath the lighthouse

is absolutely critical

to the long-term survival
of the building.

Rain and spring water

pools to either side
of the lighthouse

and works its way out
through the bluff,

causing most of the erosion.

Fortunately, a watertight spur
of red clay

runs directly
underneath the lighthouse,

providing some protection.

So they must move the lighthouse
back in line with the red clay

by 134 feet.

This should give
150 years of protection

from the eroding bluffs.

They cannot move it back
much further.

If the lighthouse is too far
from the coast,

ships close in
won't be able to see it.

Ensuring the lighthouse
stands tall during the move,

engineers are working out

how to shore up the building's
brittle brickwork.

Okay, that's good.

132.493.

They're most worried
about two critical weak spots:

its walls and foundations.

They may not be strong enough
to survive the move.

There is a weak level

between the watch level
and the lantern level.

Not many years after it was
originally constructed,

there was a gale--
200-mile-an-hour winds--

that shifted
the cast iron lantern.

It cracked the masonry below.

In a sense of panic,
a secondary wall was built

outside of the original wall
to reinforce that structure.

The bricks of the outer
support wall

and original inner wall
were never interwoven.

They are independent
of one another.

Water becomes trapped
between the walls.

Repeated freezing and thawing

has gradually weakened
the watch level.

We've got some fungus
growing here.

I'm not sure what kind
of mushrooms these are.

I think they're
lighthouse mushrooms.

I'm not going to try eating them
or anything like that.

But they are an indication

of a moisture condition
that exists.

The double wall means they are
moving two watch levels at once,

a lighthouse
within a lighthouse.

If they lift
without bracing these walls,

it could cause them
to slide away from each other.

The tower could shift.

And there's another problem.

At the base, two layers
of massive granite blocks

make up the foundation.

As the building's 400-ton weight
is transferred to the beams,

these blocks could spread.

This could destabilize
the structure

and trigger a collapse.

So to bolster the brickwork,

they must build
a supporting corset

around the walls
of the upper level,

and they must run steel cables
around the base

to hold the foundation stones
in a rigid embrace.

Together, these will hold
the lighthouse firm

as the team lifts and moves it.

We're trying to maintain

a compressed circle, which will
keep the integrity of this wall.

Try to get a nice
even response

out of these cables,

make sure they're
tensioned up equally.

Okay, that should do it.

Now Joe must tighten
six steel cables

around the foundation stones,

taking care to maintain even
pressure all the way around.

Because these are
segmented pieces,

we don't want them separating
or shifting in any way,

so we'll tighten them up
nice and snug

and keep them all together.

But the real challenge
lies ahead:

raising the lighthouse
and rolling it inland

without it falling apart.

If they can pull it off, this
will be the second lighthouse

to be saved from the cliffs
here at Gay Head.

An earlier wooden structure
built in 1799

had to be hauled away
from the crumbling bluffs

by a team of oxen in 1844.

The current brick lighthouse
replaced it in 1856.

It was built to house

a brand new,
world changing technology:

the Fresnel lens.

It won the Paris Exposition

of 1855 before it was
sent over here,

and it won that gold medal

as the highest form
of technology of its time.

The new lens magnified
and focused the light

to be visible to ships
as far from land as possible,

and in the worst
weather conditions.

The mechanism itself has
1,008 leaded glass prisms

all focused to make a flame then
cast out for 18 to 20 miles.

It was just a tremendous thing.

Even more impressive
considering the light

was just a single flame
fueled by whale oil.

Maintaining the lighthouse was
a serious, 24-hour-a-day job.

Charles Vanderhoop Junior,

son of the first Native American
lighthouse keeper,

recalled his father's dedication
in a rare audio recording.

My father used to be keeper
of the Gay Head Light.

They used to go
and wipe off the windows

on the outside every day.

You got to stand on the railing,
you're way up high.

A lot of work involved.

The lens
and the thing it turned on

weighed roughly two tons.

To show you
how well balanced it was,

you could push it around
with a finger.

Two tons!

In 1951,

Aquinnah became the last
community in Massachusetts

to be electrified.

And the next year,
the flame was doused

when a modern lamp
replaced the Fresnel lens.

But most key parts
of the structure are much older

and present their own
challenges.

In particular, the 17 and a half
tons of cast-iron staircase,

whose deck and center column
are about to lose the support

provided by the ground below.

If that was left unsupported,

it most likely
would come crashing down

during the move
and bring the building with it.

The historic spiral staircase
is made up of 55 steps

and three heavy
cast-iron floors.

They are welded
into a center column

supported by a massive
granite block.

As the team digs the earth
from underneath the foundation,

this column
will become unsupported.

The heavy ironwork
could drop out.

So they must build
giant support beams

into the lighthouse

to prop up the center column
for the move.

They must also tie the lower
stairs tightly together

with steel cables.

The beams and cables
should hold the staircase firm

as the team lifts and moves
the lighthouse.

We've tensioned this up,
and the stairs are hanging

on this rigging
that we've got in place.

We want to keep everything
just as it was built.

The iron innards
of the lighthouse

are locked in place
and ready for the move.

Jerry can now remove the block
underneath the center column

to make space
for the last steel beams.

We're going to try
to drop it down

between the beams.

We want to have it
under super control,

so we don't have no problems.

One more time,
it's getting ready to come!

It's getting ready,
here it comes!

I love my job.

Hold on, Jerry!

All 400 tons of brickwork
and cast iron

are now completely free
from the earth.

It's my lighthouse now because
it's sitting on my equipment.

We'll give it back
to the islanders

at the end of next week.

It takes a further three days
to insert the rest of the steel.

Jerry must stay on schedule
to complete the move

before the risk of storms
increases.

At the same time,
a team of archaeologists

works alongside the engineers

to preserve any artifacts
they recover.

The archaeology is going
to give everyone involved

a little snapshot
into what daily life was like

here at the lighthouse.

Alongside fragments of pottery
and fossilized clams,

the archaeologists have made
some surprising discoveries.

This is one of the most
exciting things that we've found

at the lighthouse.

This is a clay smoking pipe.

It probably dates
to the late 19th century.

The bowl itself is a man's hand,
probably imported from England.

We assume that this
may have been used

by the lighthouse keeper,
smoking his pipe outside,

perhaps looking out
at the ocean,

and it's just
a really neat find for us.

Over its 160 year-long history,

the lighthouse
has shared the cliffs

with many other structures,
now long gone.

There have been
two keepers' houses,

a number of storage buildings,
a few wood houses,

a garage, a barn,

and then during World War II,
there was an observation tower

to keep an eye on what was
going on out on the coastline.

Although no trace of
the observation tower remains,

an armored bunker that was once
perched on the cliff

to spot German U-boats

has since fallen down
to the base.

The bunker may have led
to some misleading conclusions

about another small artifact.

When we first saw it pop up
in the screen,

the first reaction
upon seeing this pin was that

it was some type
of Nazi propaganda.

But in fact, it has
a very different history.

It's not a swastika.

It's a Native design

as a piece of commemorative
jewelry or costume jewelry

that was manufactured sometime
in the first three decades

of the 20th century,

and the design was known
as the whirling log motif.

It's possible that
this could have been sold

at one of the shops
up at the cliffs.

Martha's Vineyard is known
to the Aquinnah Wampanoag Tribe

as "Noepe."

Since the 19th century,

the community has been part
of the tourism industry here,

selling souvenirs
and operating restaurants.

Today, the shops
next to the Gay Head Light

are all owned and run

by Aquinnah Wampanoag
tribal members.

$18.95, please.

There you go.

Thank you so much!

This is our ancestral home.

We are probably one
of the few tribes

in the United State Nations

that has not been relocated,
has not been moved.

We have always been here.

Our creation story tells us
that Moshup brought us here.

Oral tradition describes
the Wampanoag leader,

a giant called "Moshup"

who created Noepe
and the surrounding islands.

At that time,
the whales were very plentiful,

so he would catch the whales
to feed to our people,

and he would smash it
against the clay cliffs,

and the blood from the whales
colored our clay cliffs

the deep, deep red.

Today, the colorful cliffs
and the Gay Head Light

draw tourists
from all over the world.

So many people come
into the store here

and say that
this is on their bucket list.

I think it would be
very difficult to survive

without the lighthouse.

But in order to survive,
this move must succeed.

Come on down!

Nice and easy!

Jerry is gearing up

to tackle
the next big challenge.

It's the final step before
actually moving the building.

They must lift it straight up,

creating a four-foot clearance
to make room for the tracks

that will guide it
to the new site.

Jerry has built 16 jacks
into the steelwork

to lift the building.

A powerful motor
will force hydraulic oil,

under extreme pressure,
down reinforced hoses.

The pressurized oil
will extend the jacks,

raising the steel beams
and lighthouse.

It's just like jacking up a car
to change a tire.

They will use wooden blocks
and extra steel

to prop the building up
as they lift it

until there is enough space
to slide in the tracks.

All the steelwork,
together with the structure,

now weighs over 400 tons,

so the load on Jerry's machinery
will be immense.

Okay, pressuring up on five!

The lift is about to happen.

Okay, guys, Gay Head Lighthouse
is coming up!

This is a custom-built machine.

Jerry can use it to control
groups of jacks,

or he can direct it
to exert a unified force

across all of the jacks,

distributing the load evenly
to prevent tilting.

Two feet up, two to go.

Keep jacking.

Just keep jacking.

Right now,

the lighthouse is
completely off the ground.

It is being held up
by hydraulic fluid.

But as they reach
the halfway stage of the lift,

the operation suddenly grinds
to a halt.

Something stopped.

See if you've got a leak
in there anywhere.

Check the driveshaft.

I think there went
my Wednesday schedule.

As soon as you start bragging
you're doing good,

then it bites you in the butt!

After refilling the oil,
cleaning the filter...

We're hoping that's
the culprit right there.

...and taking the engine apart,

the team finds the problem,
and it's serious.

There's a shear pin in there,
and the shear pin has sheared.

It's broke

and it's not allowing the engine
to spin the hydraulic motor.

And you can't buy this shear pin

at an automotive store.

Some simple little item
like this,

a three- or four-dollar item,

is holding up the whole show
right now.

Simple, but not common.

It could take days
to find a replacement.

A long hold-up
will increase the chances

of this epic rescue operation
being derailed by a storm.

Jerry has just one option.

I've got a lot of friends
in the house moving business.

I'm going to go borrow
a machine.

Bobby, my machine died.

If you get this, give me a call.

Yeah, we're calling in favors.

You could sit back and wait,
but that puts you in last place.

Hey, George!

Any way I could borrow
a jack machine?

You could take a picture
of your machine

jacking the lighthouse up,
how's that?

I won't even charge you!

After racking up his phone bill,
Jerry gets lucky.

Can't let one monkey
stop the show.

We're going to get
a jack machine.

The replacement jacking machine
arrives the next morning,

but it's far
from the latest model.

This is probably built
in the '50s,

so it's got some age.

It's older than I am.

No, it's not older than I am
either, forget that.

Their plans could be
seriously disrupted

if this machine
isn't up to the job.

With some trepidation,
Jerry starts it up.

This one's got
eight and a quarter.

Eight and a quarter?

Slowly but surely...

To make sure the structure
doesn't lean, Joey and Bush

build up wooden blocks
beneath the rising lighthouse.

You just got to maintain
a steady pace and don't think

about the pain and heartaches
you're going to have later.

They're discovering
that this machine

is far slower than Jerry's.

It takes longer than expected
to raise the lighthouse

the full four feet into the air.

But after the glitch
with Jerry's machine...

Catch him off, boys,
catch him off!

...it's a huge relief.

We get a laser,
I think we're high enough,

as high as that building's going
for the next hundred years.

This is a huge moment.

This is historic.

I've got to pinch myself today.

I don't know
where the champagne went,

but a beer
will have to do.

But Jerry can't afford
to celebrate for long.

Joey, can you hear me?

Finally, after
almost three weeks,

they've reached
the most complex stage

of this rescue operation...

The move itself.

This is all about precision.

It's important this lighthouse

sits in the center
of its new footing

and at the correct elevation.

This is the best location,
both in terms of geology

and to make the lighthouse
visible to ships.

In order to position
the lighthouse,

they use lasers and plumb bobs
to align the tracks.

Hold up, Jerry!

Precision is important

because the littlest
out of alignment

could cause it
to go left or right,

and we would be off
the center mark.

Everything is set
for the big move.

This is the plan.

The team has placed
small steel rollers

between the rails
and the steel platform.

The rollers
will help ease the lighthouse

smoothly along the tracks.

Two giant pistons
at the rear

will thrust the building
forward, retract,

and thrust again.

Once the lighthouse has traveled
along a length of track,

the crew will leapfrog the rails

around to the front
of the building,

extending the steel railway
to the new site.

This ingenious concept

of sliding massive buildings
intact along steel rails

dates back over a hundred years.

A builder from Pittsburgh
named John Eichleay Junior

refined a series
of trailblazing techniques

that house movers like Jerry
Matyiko still draw on today.

Eichleay masterminded

perhaps the most audacious
house move in history.

When the owner of a huge mansion
in Pittsburgh

wanted it moved out of the path
of a new railway line,

Eichleay proposed lifting
the 800-ton structure

to the top of the 160-foot cliff
right behind.

He used 300 hand-operated
screw jacks to lift the mansion,

propping it up on 20,000 blocks
of wood as it rose.

They used rollers
to move the structure back,

recycling the blocks and rails.

The mansion
crept up the cliff face

at the stately pace
of seven inches an hour.

Amazingly, they reached the top
of the cliff in just 100 days.

Sadly, the mansion burned down
ten years later.

Jerry will now use
the same technique

to slide the Gay Head Lighthouse
away from the cliff

and onto its new home.

8:00 a.m.

The day of the big move.

This is the critical maneuver
the whole community

has been working towards
for three years.

It's coming to a new home,

but it's in the same
neighborhood.

A better neighborhood!

It's a great, great feeling.

We first started
thinking about it

more than five years ago,
and we're almost there.

But Jerry's anxious
about the dangers ahead.

Old buildings aren't designed
to be moved.

This lighthouse certainly
wasn't meant to be moved.

It blows my mind
that you can get

this amount of weight balanced
on these teeter-totters.

It's pick-up sticks
for big boys.

There's just one last
critical element of preparation.

Plain old soap bar.

The soap will help reduce
the friction as we're rolling.

Even though they're moving
the building only 134 feet,

it will take at least 48 hours

of intense activity
to get the job done.

Zone one's locked off!

Jerry pressurizes the pistons,
and they're off.

Rock and roll!

We're moving!

She's rolling!

The Gay Head Light
is finally moving away

from the eroding cliffs,
but at a snail's pace.

We're working
on the first stroke out,

moving very well.

Over 400 tons
of steel and masonry

roll down the tracks
at four inches a minute.

Who's got the longest stroke?

Twenty-six inch!

Twenty-six?

What've you got?

One inch!

Okay.

Unclamp it.

The team completes
the first stage.

Five feet down, 129 to go.

They must now retract
the pistons

and clamp them in place
for the next push.

We're moving!

Inch by inch, the lighthouse
slowly creeps inland.

Jerry's son Gabe
knows that the team

must be vigilant at all times.

The slightest oversight
could cause the tower to topple.

If you have a problem

and somebody doesn't catch it,
or there's an issue,

there's a possible
catastrophic failure.

I want to know if y'all
see any of them rollers

leaning or anything.

It takes ahole day
to move 50 feet.

But as they pick up the pace,
they hit a major problem.

Yeah, it's moving,
just real slow.

Something's not plumbed right.

Yeah, we're looking at it
right now.

Jerry applies
more hydraulic pressure

to the oil in the hoses,
but a blockage somewhere

stops the fluid
from flowing to the pistons

and pushing
the lighthouse forward.

Hundreds of feet of hoses

connected to dozens of
individual valves and fittings

make up his system.

Okay, we got a bad
connection here.

Hunting down the blockage

is like looking for a needle
in a haystack.

Here it is, right here!

Whoever's in charge up here
is screwing up.

The lines are connected
with threads,

the threads are tightened
with wrenches,

so it's a human process,
so sometimes what happens is

if something gets in there
and blocks the flow,

you have pressure relief valves
that are made

to relieve themselves
at a certain pressure,

that something's
not quite hooked up right.

Finding the fault

has eaten up valuable time.

Okay, let's give it a try!

They're approaching
the halfway mark.

To continue, they must now
pick up the rear set of tracks

and set them
in front of the lighthouse.

Lock your zones off, Joe!

Zone two's locked off.

We're good.

It's rolling!

It's moving!

There she goes.

It takes almost 40 hours

to make it to the edge
of the new footing.

This is our final push.

We only have a ltle
over 20 feet more to go.

The team is nearly there,

but they cannot afford
to lose focus.

They must hit their mark.

I'm going to keep my eye
on that plumb bob,

and when we get over that nail,
I'm going to yell "Stop!"

And at that point,
the eagle has landed.

I'm a lighthouse groupie,
yes, indeed.

I'm a very big fan.

I've visited
over 400 lighthouses.

There are some that are
very, very special,

and Gay Head is one of them,
so I had to be here.

This light shined in my windows
every night.

I went to sleep with it
every night.

And coming back
and watching this move

is just pretty incredible.

We got 15 more feet to go!

Pull, heave, pull!

Things can screw up
at the last minute.

That's when you want to be
extra careful.

Everybody gets lax,
not watching.

All the joking's over then.

Rollers look okay?

Yeah, they're going
pretty straight.

We're only
about three feet away.

Three little feet!

Two feet!

Finally, the team
is about to discover

if they will hit their target.

20 inches!

The dead center of the footing.

Five!

Four!

Three!

Two!

One little inch!

All right, Jerry!

Stop!

They've positioned
the lighthouse

directly over the new footing.

We're there, everybody,
we're there!

And it's perfectly aligned.

But the job's not done.

The lighthouse
is still four feet

above its final elevation.

And right on cue,

the first storm of the season
threatens to roll in.

Oh my God!

One hellacious storm
is on its way.

The exposed steelwork
turns the tower

into a giant lightning rod.

It's crucial
they ground the building

to avoid a lightning strike
that could injure the crew.

Quickly, they release
the pressure on the jacks...

Open the valve!

All right, Joey, now!

...gradually lowering
the 400-ton structure.

Coming down to seven!

There!

Okay, two, three,
so we're good this way.

You seven, Bush?

Yeah!

Coming down to eight.

2.1, two degrees this way.

Coming down to two!

One more inch, we'll be home.

We're there!

We're right on elevation!

I'm the man!

The team has completed
their mission,

and the storm passes
to the north of the island.

We are right over the spot

of the new home
of the lighthouse,

where it will stand
for another 160 years or longer!

Now that's the hydraulic
pressure I like!

To the Gay Head Light!

Long live the light!

Victory is too sweet.

I'll be soon to go home.

Over the next nine weeks,
they build support walls

between the foundations
and the base of the lighthouse,

remove all the steel,
and fill in the move path.

They can now landscape
the whole area.

The lighthouse was here.

Now we are 180 feet
from the danger of the cliff.

And if we have to move it again,
by God, we'll move it again.

Final task: switch on the light

just as hurricane season
gets underway.

During bad weather like this

is when ships really need us,
so it's very fitting

that we should be relighting in
this kind of inclement weather.

It's only with the help
of many, many, many people

that this magnificent move
got accomplished.

Very pleased.

Oh, this community.

It was just so much fun
working for these people.

They just were overwhelming.

Four, three, two, one!

It's taken
over three million dollars,

800 blocks of wood,
ten tons of steel,

and some ingenious engineering.

But the historic Gay Head Light
is saved.

We didn't want to just move
a nice building

as a tourist attraction;
we wanted to keep its function,

because that is a part
of the fabric of our town.

And we are going to keep it
shining for mariners

for generations to come.

A deadly Nazi weapon.

This NOVA program
is available on DVD.

To order, visit shopPBS.org,
or call 1-800-PLAY-PBS.

NOVA is also available
for download on iTunes.