Sentinels on the Eastern Point
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| Montauk Point Lighthouse, first lit in 1797. |
Arriving in an aircraft above the hamlet of Montauk on the eastern end of Long Island, two distinguishing features are immediately apparent. The first is a lengthy oceanside strand of pristine beach that appears transplanted from the Outer Banks. Second is a pair of manmade sentinels that are products of very different eras and circumstances.
One is a Cold War relic, the last surviving example of a massive AN/FPS-35 long range radar. It is decades inactive and mounted high atop a featureless building at the former Camp Hero military base, a skeletal hand grasping skyward. The antenna was constructed in 1955 as part of the distant early warning network. Conspiracy theories about the military installation thrived in the later 20th century with whispers of unethical human and interdimensional experimentation that served as inspiration for the Netflix series Stranger Things.
The other sentinel is far older and vastly more romantic, the Montauk Point Lighthouse. First lit in 1797, it was commissioned by a public works act of the Second United States Congress under President George Washington and became the first lighthouse in New York. When I visited Montauk in 2022, this coastal beacon was undergoing significant refurbishment that concluded in 2023 with reinstallation of the 3-1/2 order Fresnel lens once housed in the lighthouse cab from 1903 to 1987. It remains the fourth oldest active lighthouse in the United States.
While the Cold War era sentinel is visibly deteriorated, the 18th century lighthouse at Montauk Point has experienced a 21st century rebirth. In deciding to visit Montauk in 2025, I identified three objectives for the day. First, I wanted to tour that beautifully restored lighthouse lit during the Washington administration. Second, I wanted to eat an overpriced lobster roll. (They're all overpriced, so perhaps that statement is redundant.) Finally, I planned to explore some of Camp Hero, now a state park.
Impressionistic Vistas
| Date | Aircraft | Route of Flight | Time (hrs) | Total (hrs) |
| 13 Sep 2025 | N21481 | SDC (Sodus, NY) - MTP (Montauk, NY) | 2.5 | 3046.1 |
Despite a clear, calm morning, the air nonetheless held just enough haze to soften the landscape below and to make it appear as though rendered by an impressionist painter's brush. Flight time to the Eastern Seaboard is roughly two hours, but with such beautiful terrain below, the time passed quickly.
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| Otisco Lake (foreground) and Skaneateles Lake (background). |
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| Sunbeams over Oneonta, NY. |
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| Catskill Mountains with the Ashokan Reservoir in the distance. |
Descent over Long Island Sound
Montauk occupies the easternmost point of Long Island and a direct flight there requires crossing about 10 nautical miles of Long Island Sound.
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| Mouth of the Connecticut River at the Atlantic Ocean. |
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| Orient Point on the North Fork of Long Island. |
In managing the descent over open water, I adjusted my course to fly past the mysterious Gardiner's Island that has been privately held since Lion Gardiner purchased it from Montaukett chief Wyandanch in 1639. In the distance, the eastern terminus of Long Island was visible, with Lake Montauk appearing as a void in the landscape.
Ships moored in the private harbor of Gardiner's Island suggest that people were on the island as I passed overhead.
In 1699, privateer Captain Kidd buried his treasure on Gardiner's Island, which was dug-up and introduced as evidence during his piracy trial in Boston the same year. Looking at these crossing turf runways, the notion of "X marks the spot" came to mind. More importantly, it looked like an excellent emergency landing site in the event of engine trouble while crossing Long Island Sound.
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| Looking westward along Long Island. |
The End
Once past Gardiner's Island and over Long Island, I turned eastbound toward Montauk.
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| Montauk, NY. |
Because it occupies the easternmost tip of Long Island, Montauk is often nicknamed "The End". Cue The Doors.
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| Montauk, NY with Lake Montauk to the northeast. |
Sentinels
Before turning toward the airport, I continued along the oceanside shore in hopes of catching a glimpse of Montauk's two sentinels.
The massive radar antenna at Camp Hero — now Camp Hero State Park — is easy to see from the air. I am embarrassed to admit that I did not see it the first time I flew over the eastern end of Long Island in 2022 and only discovered its existence while reviewing photos I took of the area, one of which unintentionally captured it.
From above, the former base is overgrown and the derelict radar facility visibly deteriorated.
I proceeded toward the Montauk Point Light that stands exposed on the easternmost bluff.
Erosion is a ubiquitous challenge for all ancient lighthouses built along North America's East Coast. (For clarity, "ancient" is used here in a relative American sort of way.) In many cases, treasured historic lighthouses have been moved away from encroaching precipices. Rather than relocate this lighthouse and its associated complex of buildings, the bluff was stabilized with a series of reed-trench terraces planted with grasses to anchor the soil in place, an invention by Giorgina Reid. A revetment of carefully placed armor stones — 125,000 tons of them — encircles the point to protect the bluff from battery by the relentless sea. On a calm day such as this, it is difficult to imagine that such a massive shield is necessary, but the Atlantic can grow incredibly violent when meteorologically riled.
Montauk Point Lighthouse is part of a complex of buildings. Most prominently, there is the 110.5 foot tall lighthouse tower itself. Left of the tower is the 1860 lighthouse keeper's house that was expanded in 1912, now a museum. The smaller white tower closer to the bluff is a Fire Control Tower added to the site in 1942. It was used to search for enemy submarines as part of the Eastern Coastal Defense Shield during World War II and observers in this concrete tower would have directed artillery fire from Battery 112 at adjacent Camp Hero. Between the lighthouse and the fire control tower is the single story 1897 fog horn building. Finally, the tiny structure at far left of frame is a storage building from the era when whale oil was still burned to illuminate the beacon.
The reddish-brown daymark band around Montauk Point Lighthouse was added in 1899 for ready identification of the tower by day. Since my first fly-over in 2022, all exterior surfaces have been repainted following extensive repairs to the lighthouse exterior structure.
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| Montauk Point Lighthouse as it appeared during restoration on 13 August 2022. |
A Quiet Frequency
Montauk Airport is on the sound side of the island and adjacent to the outlet channel of Lake Montauk. Unlike my first visit when airplane parking was challenging to find, the ramp was visibly empty and the frequency eerily quiet. I wondered if I somehow missed a closure NOTAM for the airport.
I circled counterclockwise around the airport to enter a left downwind for runway 6.
In the traffic pattern, I passed directly over the channel into Lake Montauk where Montauk's fishing fleet is based. Originally a freshwater lake, that changed in 1927 when the inlet was created to connect the lake to Block Island Sound.
I lined up on runway 6, remembering that my first landing at Montauk in 2022 was not one that I was particularly proud of. This time was much smoother.
"Piper that just landed, I'll meet you on the ramp for parking," came a voice over the radio. I was thankful for that voice, because it confirmed that the airport was open.
Once parked, I commented, "I was afraid that the airport was closed. I expected it to be busier."
"Naw," the lineman responded. "You're just early." It was 10:15 am.
What's Your Vector, Victor?
The last time I visited Montauk, I received a bill in the mail from Vector for the $40 landing fee. I tried to pay it online, but their website glitched and would not accept a credit card. As a result, I wrote a check for $40 and mailed it in. I am distrustful enough of the general public that I always send mail directly from the post office rather than my own mailbox. Nevertheless, that check was intercepted and amateurishly (though successfully) altered to pay out $10,000. This not only cleaned out my checking account, but overdrew it by several thousand dollars. An intrepid teller at my local branch was able to find the account in Pennsylvania where the money was deposited. Though the bank reimbursed me for the losses, they were slow to act on the teller's detective work and, by the time they got around to it, the money was gone. I was infuriated by this, not because there was any direct harm to me, but because who committed the fraud got away with it even though the bank was on to them. I have since been reluctant to write any new checks.
"Still using Vector?" I asked.
"Let me tell you something about Vector," the man — whom I now suspected to be the owner of the airport — said to me. "Vector does nothing to go after pilots who don't pay their invoices. And they take a chunk of each fee collected. So I don't use them anymore."
"If they don't go after people who don't pay their bill, what are you paying for?" I asked.
"Exactly."
A $40 landing fee still exists for Montauk, but it is paid directly to the airport on arrival. There is an additional $1.20 fee for credit card transactions, but I did not have enough cash with me to avoid that.
I think someone at the Montauk Airport had a few frustrating incidents with the plumbing.
Montauk might be the only airport I've visited where the aircraft and automotive parking fees are at parity.
Washington Administration Carryover
I hailed a local Surf Taxi for transportation to the Montauk Point Lighthouse.
The lighthouse is every bit as impressive from the ground as from the air. Admission to the lighthouse grounds, including the museum and the top of the lighthouse tower, was $15 for adults.
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| The Fire Control Tower and fog horn building. |
From the base of the lighthouse, views of Long Island's south shore are impressive.
In the distance, the decommissioned radar antenna at Camp Hero was dramatically visible high above the tree canopy.
The museum featured a number of examples of Fresnel lenses, technical drawings of the Montauk lighthouse, dioramas progressively showing the layout of the lighthouse complex and erosion of the bluff over the years, displays about the Montaukett Native American people, and memorabilia from past lighthouse keepers.
For example, this desk belonged to Jacob Hand, the first lighthouse keeper who served from 1796 through 1812.
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| Looking down the Montauk Point Lighthouse stairs. |
The bluffs and ocean are breathtaking when seen from the lighthouse.
This panorama was taken from a doorway just below the lantern room, looking westward across Long Island.
Visitors are only allowed to climb partway into the lantern room, most likely to prevent anyone from touching the precious working Fresnel lens situated there. From the lantern room, the Camp Hero radar dish is apparent on the horizon.
Finally, I beheld the 123 year old 3-1/2 order Fresnel lens in its natural habitat of the lantern room atop the massive tower. Even during the day, the Fresnel lens rotates. Fabricated in 1902 by Barbier, Bernard and Turenne in Paris, France, this bivalve Fresnel lens served atop the Montauk Point Lighthouse from 1903 until 1987 when it was decommissioned. Local residents are justifiably proud of their lighthouse and often complained that the replacement beacon was too dim. In November of 2023, the Fresnel lens was returned to its rightful place atop the Montauk beacon. It is part of a two year Coast Guard experiment to monitor how Fresnel lenses perform over time. Within the century old lens beats a modern heart: a SafeLight LED with a $16,000 price tag courtesy of the Coast Guard. Revolving at 6 rpm, the lighthouse "flashes" every five seconds and can be seen from 19 miles away even though the LED is only operated at 50% power.
I was shocked to learn that the original rotating base for this lens turned on a bearing of liquid mercury because no other substance with a lower coefficient of friction was known at the time. Having experienced how hot the lantern room gets on a sunny day (let alone when the beacon was actually lit), I wondered how much mercury was inhaled by keepers during their daily lens cleaning. Mercury is no longer in use here. For that matter, safety experts came for mercury thermometers in chemistry labs decades ago.
We Could Be Heroes, If Just for One Day
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| Former Camp Hero guard shack. |
From the lighthouse, I walked the short distance to Camp Hero State Park. Entering, I walked past the former guard shack that once controlled access to the base. I followed the Battery 112 trail through the woods to the shuttered military base as a way of accomplishing my daily hike.
Although the base is long decommissioned, there is no mistaking evidence of past military entrenchment.
Views from the oceanside bluffs are stunning, however. In some places, signs caution people to remain up to 25 feet from cliff edges because erosion has undermined many of the bluffs.
"Where's the kaboom? There's supposed to be an Earth-shattering kaboom!"
It is probably best to stick to the trails.
Not surprisingly, the complex of military buildings around the radar tower is completely fenced off from public access with lots of warning signs threatening dire consequences to entry.
Despite the obvious decay of the site, the enormous radar antenna is still quite impressive up close.
Culinary Fail
By this point in the day, I achieved two of my three objectives. I had explored the lighthouse and investigated Camp Hero. All that remained to complete the trifecta was an overpriced lobster roll. I called Surf Taxi for a ride to Gin Beach Cafe located across the street from the airport.
As we started our journey back toward the airport and the cafe, I asked the driver how long he had been driving taxis. "Little English," he explained. I spent the rest of the ride calling upon my very rusty high school Spanish to carry on a clumsy conversation with the driver.
I arrived at Gin Beach Cafe around 1:00 pm after rocking out with my taxi driver to Hotel California. "Old school," he exclaimed with a grin while deftly banging out the drum part on the minivan steering wheel. This guy was a lot of fun, language barrier aside. Unfortunately, the wait for food at Gin Beach Cafe was at least an hour and I had a schedule to keep. An overpriced lobster roll was not to be had in Montauk that day, at least not by me.
FOMO Flight Plans
Since my arrival in Montauk that morning, the ramp had filled significantly. I visited the restroom before taking flight, remembering not to inadvertently drop a lobster into the toilet per posted guidelines. I suppose the risk of that was low considering that I did not manage to get any lobster in Montauk that day.
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| Waiting to depart from runway 24 while a Bonanza lands at Montauk. |
On takeoff, I made a right turnout with a climbing clockwise turn over the eastern tip of Long Island to get one final look at the lighthouse and Camp Hero.
Here is where my day became more complicated. Two days earlier, after I developed my Montauk plan and become very attached to it, Tom asked if I wanted to join him and Ed in flying to Bradford Regional Airport (KBFD) that night for dinner at the excellent Runway Bar & Grill. Well, of course I did!
I wrestled with this before realizing that I could do both. After all, I have an airplane! I was unwilling to wait at the Gin Beach Cafe because dinner reservations in Pennsylvania were at 5:15 pm and the flight time was roughly three hours. Moreover, while Kristy did not have time to join me for the Montauk excursion, she was willing to join for dinner. Ed and Stacey agreed to fly her to dinner in their new Cherokee Six and I planned to meet them in Bradford on what would become a more roundabout flight home from Montauk.
Pennsylvania is a Long State
| Date | Aircraft | Route of Flight | Time (hrs) | Total (hrs) |
| 13 Sep 2025 | N21481 | MTP (Montauk, NY) - SNC (Chester, CT) - BFD (Bradford, PA) - SDC (Sodus, NY) | 4.9 | 3051.0 |
Despite the clear sunny sky over Montauk, transit across Long Island Sound was capped by a cloud layer at 3,500 feet.
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| Gardiner's Island. |
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| Plum Island with evidence of the low cloud layer near top of frame. |
At 3,000 feet, I noticed an ADS-B traffic target — another airplane — at my altitude on a converging course off my front right quarter. It was coming fast, but I could not acquire it visually. Seeing no sign of deviation from the other aircraft, I pulled Warrior 481 hard into a zoom-climb. This took me directly into the cloud layer, but that was a far safer option than a midair collision and there was no indication of traffic above me. The other aircraft zipped by underneath, its trajectory unaltered. After a deep cleansing breath, I descended back out of the layer and returned to my initial cruise altitude.
Did I bust legal VFR visibility and cloud clearance rules? Yes. Was it the right thing to do in a developing emergency? Absolutely.
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| Final approach, Chester Airport (SNC), runway 17. |
One of the downsides of Montauk Airport is a lack of services despite a significant landing fee. To fly from the easternmost point of New York State to Bradford in the northwest corner of Pennsylvania, I needed fuel. With none to be had on Montauk, I hopped across Long Island Sound and landed at Chester Airport in Connecticut (airport #292) for reasonably priced fuel at $5.50/gallon. While that may not sound reasonable to some, Chester sat within a triangle of towered airports (New Haven, Groton, and Hartford, CT) with fuel prices ranging from $7.38 to $7.60. Less spendy non-towered fields in the area were all in the $6+ dollar range except for Chester.
Chester is laid out in a compact linear configuration and parking space around the fuel pump is tight. I taxied close and manually pushed the airplane backward into a position for fueling where it would not block taxiway traffic. Folks at Chester were friendly and I was greeted warmly by those I encountered.
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| Working around clouds just south of the Catskill Mountains. |
Clouds en route presented unexpected navigational challenges by floating around in places where they were not forecast to be. In hindsight, I should have filed an instrument flight plan for this leg, but was in a hurry to meet the reservation time. I was willing to eat some crow and request a pop up, but the New Tork Approach frequency was simply too busy. When I finally succeeded in reaching them, I was told to contact Boston Center instead. I never successfully got through to Center and, even if I had, they probably would have refused my request due to workload. I was left to manage the consequences of my poor planning on my own.
Eventually, I wound my way around the intervening clouds near the Huguenot VOR and was receiving radar advisories from ATC by the time I reached Wilkes-Barre, PA. Uplinked weather indicated rain between Bradford and Rochester and I wondered if Ed and Tom would abort our dinner plans. Their aircraft did not show up as traffic via ADS-B (there was a NOTAM for unreliable traffic information in that region), but I had adequate cellular service to track Tom's airplane on FlightAware. Clearly still bound for Bradford, he was evidently unfazed by the weather. I continued on.
Can You Hear Me Now?
As someone who habitually transits Pennsylvania across its shorter north-south axis, the east to west flight truly was a slog against a headwind that reduced groundspeed to roughly 110 knots. When I was handed off to Cleveland Center by Elmira, I was pleased to hear both Ed and Tom on frequency. I made four attempts at two way communication with Cleveland Center. Though I could hear Center, they could not hear me. Worried that I had a radio issue, I tried transmitting on both radios and finally made contact on the fourth try.
Deviations around clouds in eastern New York delayed my arrival to Bradford and I landed 15 minutes behind the others, who were already seated and waiting for me in the Runway Bar & Grill. I thoroughly enjoyed my trip to Montauk, but arrived for dinner fatigued by the three hour flight from Chester to Bradford.
Tell me again why I thought this was a good idea?
"Hi everyone," I said when I reached the table.
"I'm sorry, we can't acknowledge you until you've said hello at least three more times," replied Stacey, cleverly mocking Cleveland Center. It was good to see my friends and that was why the whole venture was a good idea.
"By the way, we could hear you every time you called. The problem was not on your end." Good to know.
While reviewing the menu, my day came full circle in an unexpected way. One of the specials was crab legs — a lot of them. While I did not achieve my objective of an overpriced lobster roll on Montauk, I still enjoyed some crustacean deliciousness hundreds of miles inland from the eastern seaboard. I consider that a well-met goal with extra credit for being ridiculously convoluted.
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| Tom’s Cherokee, Ed’s Six, and Warrior 481 on the ramp at Bradford. |
We enjoyed excellent dinners and friendly banter before returning to a ramp dampened by an earlier rain shower. We departed at dusk for a beautiful, calm flight home over a shadowed world where ground fog floated among the valleys of northwest Pennsylvania. Kristy and I were led homeward by the lights of Tom’s and Ed's aircraft flashing against the dark sky as we flew third in trail.
As I added entries to my logbook, I was struck by the day's diverse experiences. I flew a total of 7.4 hours that included a rejuvenating solo trip to explore an unfamiliar historic place, a new airport, a dinner flight with friends to one of our favorite airport diners, and a nighttime flight with my wife. Sprinkle in some (correction, a huge pile of) seafood and a beautiful lighthouse and the whole adventure summed to a perfect day.
Minus the near mid-air, of course.
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