Original subtitles

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.

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