Joan had always dreamed of adventure. Not just a weekend getaway or a school field trip—she wanted something real. So when her parents planned a road trip through Michigan, including a stop at Beacon Bay to see the oldest lighthouse on Lake Huron, Joan could hardly wait. Their friend Mrs. Oswald came along too, but Joan was the only kid.

After a long day of driving, they arrived just before sunset. “Let’s wait until morning to visit the lighthouse,” Joan’s dad said. “We’ll all enjoy it more after some rest.”

“But we’re right here,” Joan protested. “It’ll be dark soon!”

“Exactly,” her mom said with a smile. “We’ll have better light tomorrow.”

Joan huffed but didn’t argue. From the front porch of their little rental cottage, she could see the tall lighthouse in the distance, standing like a watchful giant on the cliff’s edge. Her dad had said it was over 150 years old and that on a clear day, you could see all the way across the lake from the top.

That night, Joan lay in bed thinking about the lighthouse’s spiral staircase and the panoramic view from the top. She imagined climbing higher than anyone else, standing alone in the wind. But her thoughts turned uneasy, and when she finally drifted off, she dreamed of being stuck at the edge of the top, too dizzy to move.

The next morning, Joan woke to sunshine pouring through the curtains.

“Want to go see the lighthouse with us?” her dad asked, peeking into her room.

“Already dressed,” Joan said, grabbing her hoodie.

They walked together down the gravel path, past cedar trees and wildflowers, to where the red-brick lighthouse stood tall. A park ranger greeted them inside. “You can climb to the viewing deck,” she said, “but the very top is closed for repairs right now.”

“That’s okay,” Joan’s mom said. “We’ll take whatever view we can get.”

Inside, the lighthouse was cool and dim. The old iron stairs creaked as they climbed, spiraling up the tower. From the middle platform, they could see the sparkling lake and the scattered rooftops of the town.

Joan glanced at a brochure in her hand. It described the upper catwalk—a narrow balcony that circled the lantern room at the very top. The text said, “On clear days, visitors at the top can see the curve of the Earth along the horizon.”

Joan looked up.

A second staircase branched off from the landing, marked with a simple sign: RESTRICTED: UNDER REPAIR.

Her parents and Mrs. Oswald were busy admiring the view. The rope barrier was tied loosely.

Just a peek, she told herself.

Joan ducked under the rope and climbed quietly. The staircase narrowed. It was darker here, and spiderwebs clung to the corners. The air smelled of dust and sea breeze. Still, she kept going. At last, light shone through a crack above.

She stepped out—and froze.

She was on the roof of the lighthouse.

The catwalk circled the top without a railing on one side. The view was breathtaking. Blue water stretched endlessly. The wind tugged at her hair and hoodie.

Joan took one step forward—then stopped.

The ground felt far away. Her stomach flipped. The wind howled. She looked down, just for a second—and the world spun.

She clutched the tower wall. It was smooth and too high to grip.

A voice in her head whispered, Back away. Just back away.

But her feet wouldn’t move.

She pressed her cheek to the cool bricks, breathing fast. Her legs trembled. What was I thinking?

Then—voices.

“Joan?” her mom called. “Where’d she go?”

A few seconds later, footsteps echoed behind her. “Joan!” Mrs. Oswald appeared at the doorway. “What are you doing up here?”

Joan didn’t turn. “I—I can’t move,” she whispered. “Please help me.”

Without a word, Mrs. Oswald stepped onto the platform and gently took Joan’s hand.

“Close your eyes,” she said. “We’ll go slow.”

Joan nodded, eyes shut tight, and followed her back inside.

At the bottom, her dad hugged her. “Are you okay?”

Joan gave a shaky smile. “Yeah. Just maybe not a solo explorer yet.”

Her mom smoothed Joan’s hair. “You were brave to ask for help.”

Mrs. Oswald laughed. “And next time, maybe we’ll all climb together—no detours.”

Joan grinned. “Deal. But only if we get ice cream after.”

_{“Joan’s Climb” by Nina D. Smith, published by Bright Bunny Books © 2025. Retelling of “Joan’s Adventures” by Katharine S. Macquoid from Stories Jilly: Stories New: Stories Strange & Stories True originally published in 1889.}

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“Joan’s Climb”  is intended for students in grades 4–6, offering relatable themes of curiosity, independence, and courage in a safe and age-appropriate adventure.