Rooms with a View

With roughly a thousand inhabitants, Svaneke on the east coast of Bornholm is one of Denmark’s smallest towns, an idyll of half-timbered houses and cobbled streets, known for its liquorice, smoked herring, glassblowing, and a water tower designed by Jørn Utzon, the famed Danish architect who once astounded the world with the spectacular opera house setting sails in Sydney Harbour, like a huge vessel. On the outskirts of Svaneke, another prominent building is towering up, the imposing and venerable lighthouse.

On March 27, 1914, Louise & Helene of Newarp foundered just off the coast of Svaneke, a shipwreck caused by harsh onshore wind and dense fog. The Polish schooner went down with all hands. Grief and sorrow followed. Again, the urgent need of a beacon was highlighted. A few years later, the decision was taken; on a solid foundation of granite, a square shaped Nexø sandstone tower the hight of 18 metres was erected and crowned with a lantern of tempered glass and a balcony.

Let there be light! On January 15, 1920, at last, the beacon on Hullenakke was lit for the first time – a radiant burning Blaugas flame and third order 55 mm lens, a focal height of 20 metres, two flashes every 30th second, a range of 19 nautical miles, and two foghorn blasts every 60th second through darkness and mist.

In the past, the giant lighthouse of Pharos outside the port of Alexandria was considered one of the seven wonders of the Ancient World. Long before sonar, radar, plotter, and GPS, lighthouses and beacons guided ships on their journey over the oceans, warning seafarers of cliffs, reefs, and shoals. In a way, the lighthouse embodies the idea of a good will, like a friend and a saviour.

In 1947, Svaneke Lighthouse was electrified. In 2011, the light was turned off for good. The final decades, the operation was automated with the unmanned tower being monitored by Hammerodde, from the very beginning one of the lighthouses referred to in Swedish Radio’s daily shipping forecast, a chaplet of exotic and enigmatic names, more like a rite, a sermon, a blessing upon the Nordic coasts from Lerwick to Lightship Kemi, for ever and ever, amen.

Nowadays, Svaneke Lighthouse is a listed building. Surely, no one is better suited to steward this historical heritage than its present owners. To Jan and Pia, the premises were love at first sight. Since long, the couple lives in the old lighthouse keeper’s dwelling; their children grew up here. When the lighthouse was announced for sale, they were slightly concerned. The prospect of having strangers in our garden was a bit worrying, says Pia. They were eager to buy and made a bid. Today the tower is theirs, to have and to hold, to cherish and preserve.

Their lighthouse from the early 1920s appears to be an exponent of austere Nordic Classicism, typical of the period and evocative of an Italian High Renaissance campanile. Jan and Pia have now turned the tower into an exclusive and comfortable living for rent, providing recreation and solace in rooms with a view, particularly the bar on top in the lantern overlooking the majestic seascape of the south Baltic. Up here, the horizon, and what is beyond, can be contemplated over a cool drink.

Their tower accommodates three double rooms with a Bornholm Paradise granite cave bath, space for service and facilities, and as mentioned, the irresistible bar; the lantern is intact with a red roof top and wide-angle view; a 330 degrees unbroken panorama over Svaneke, the Baltic, and the rocky coast southwards. At ground level, the adjacent old machine house is equipped with a kitchen, a parlor, and a toilet, two terrific terraces facing the sea, and upstairs, the Master Suite offering a breathtaking scenery with Isle of Christian as a backdrop in the haze.

Our host and hostess are still left in the former lighthouse keeper's place, a charming red brick building with a steep roof. They recently decided to refurbish parts of the interior. Kvänum was singled out for the assignment, a privilege indeed. For the kitchen, Pia was very determined; she wished a frame door. Real Classic Broby proved to be the perfect match in a traditional, rural house from 1920.

Golden tiles of the kitchen nook wall catch a yellow tone from the lichens on the rocks outside the window and seem to reflect a sparking yellow, like a lightning, strikingly stylish along with colour Thunder of the door, an aesthetic clap. Or not? With a smile, Pia somewhat bluntly argues that a blue kitchen keeps flies away, as the saying goes in Denmark. It may well be the case, at least when it comes to Danish flies. But she cannot fool us. There is definitely more to it. The effect of the colours is instant and obvious, nothing here is unintended; it is just ravishing.

For the combined hall and laundry, they chose Broby Sol. Incidentally in tune with our antique Chinese cabinet in the adjoining bathroom, says Pia. She is too modest; it is more likely a question of intuition. Altogether, their décor is bold and beautiful, the atmosphere both elated and serene, in fact, reminding you of a classic shipping forecast predicting sudden shifts in weather.