Michael Halminski Photography

The older one gets, the more nostalgic they become. I look back with a more appreciable perspective. My photographs shot years ago have a deeper meaning than when I first took them. Maybe that’s because the moments are gone and can never happen again. They become a window into the past.

Lately I’ve studied old photographs more than I’ve shot new ones. Some are technically flawed, but that doesn’t diminish the value much. I was young and learning the ropes of photography. Images and equipment improved over time, and subjects evolved.

When I moved here 45 years ago, I was the only photographer in town. That had results that I didn’t anticipate. Consequently, I shot nearly two hundred weddings and other social events. Yearning to be out in nature, it was work that I was never truly comfortable with.

In 1975 I was asked to take a picture of local women who worked at the restaurant at the Rodanthe Pier. It was the beginning of the tourist season and they were outfitted in their very best homemade dresses. As I recall, they are from left to right: Laura Scarborough, Thelma (can’t remember her last name), Mellie Edwards, Wilma O’Neal and Elizabeth Gray. They all wanted to have me make prints for them.

Midgett Day was a local event begun in 1972 to celebrate the heroism and lifesaving of the Midgett family, so renown in the annals of Coast Guard history. It was culminated with a memorial wreath thrown into the sea from Rodanthe Pier. The man in the blue jacket is Don Edwards, and the woman in white Maggie Smith, both members of the Midgett family. This was taken July 1978, and I think it was the final celebration of Midgett Day.

Don Edwards incidentally, was the one arranging most of my wedding and social jobs. The striking aspect of this photograph is the lack of oceanfront development south of the pier.

The vehicle that brought me here was a 1964 VW Microbus. I paid $900 for it in 1968, and it took me on a number of trips, including several to the Outer Banks. I outfitted it to modestly accommodate one or two people on overnight sojourns. It was in constant need of maintenance and tune-ups. Whenever it broke down, I knew how to fix it, including rebuilding the engine 3 times. It originally had a 1200 cc engine and ended up with a peppier 1600 “pancake engine”. With the tires deflated to 15 pounds, I could go anywhere on the beach. I drove it 15 years until the corrosive salt air took its toll. Mac Midgett hauled it away to his junk yard and I replaced it with a Datsun pick-up truck that also rusted away to the same junk yard.

Early March is known for stormy weather. Notorious  examples of this on the Outer Banks are the Ash Wednesday storm of 1962, the hundred mile an hour blizzard northeaster of 1980, and the 1993 white hurricane that brought substantial flooding.

This year back to back northeasters took yet another bite out of the island. Route 12 was highly compromised in several spots, and weather conditions were generally cold, windy and wet. Rather than documenting it with my camera, I spent much of that time painting the walls inside my studio.

At one point, I peered outside as rainy skies cleared about half an hour before sunset. Anticipating dramatic light, I took the hint to grab my Nikon and head to the beach. I was rewarded with a brilliantly lit sea under a colorful rainbow.

I had a 20mm lens to shoot a turbulent ocean framed by the rainbow.

I couldn’t resist shooting the ends with a 200mm lens.

The telephoto effect brought the seas closer for impact.

As the light dimmed, I caught one last glimpse.

With the perceived negative aspects of coastal storms, there are always some gifts that come with them.

Weather has always been a catalyst for my photography, so Cape Hatteras was a good place to spend life pursuing such a passion.

This winter’s events motivated me to shoot a few times, and get acquainted with a new mirrorless camera.

Our second snowfall in two weeks came on the 18th of January. It was drifty, amounting to perhaps 5 inches. The black needle rush in the marsh made a surreal scene as it poked through the whiteness.

Out on the beach the snow was whipped through the dunes.

Sand and snow mixed abstract patterns everywhere.

Vegetated areas behind the dunes caught most of the snow.

As air temperatures moderated over the cold water, a fog set in. I used a 45mm Leica lens on my Lumix camera to shoot the Bodie Island Lighthouse.

On the other side of Oregon Inlet, I stopped at the 1897-built Coast Guard Station. The environment there has been so unstable that it was decommissioned in 1988 due to encroaching seas. The Coast Guard then relocated to a new complex north of Oregon Inlet. The old building has since become a popular subject for artists and photographers. The state of North Carolina restored the dilapidated exterior and has yet to decide its fate.

I recently made my last haul of oysters for the season. They’ve died off and have been over harvested, now scarcer than ever. It took me hours to fill a bucket. Hopefully they’ll rebound and come back.

The 2018 new year came in with a cyclone. It had been nice and peaceful with the holiday season coming to a close, and everyone began bracing for a well-forecast storm.

On the evening of the 2nd it started with about 2 inches of rain, then turned to snow by 4 in the morning. By that time the barometer had plunged to 976 millibars. I don’t think I had seen that since hurricane Emily grazed by in 1993. Gusts were measured in the mid-70’s from the northwest. My house shook. We were in the middle of one of our rare blizzards. Temperatures dropped into the low 20’s then high teens at night.

The warm up before the storm came at Eric and Val Stump’s New Years Eve party. A few snowflakes dropped as did the temperature.

Eric did a great job roasting some crab slough oysters.

Then on the morning of the 3rd, I saw my truck sprayed with icy snow.

The yard became a frozen winter wonderland.

My business banner had been blown away and it’s mast bent.

After snowing 3 inches, it was 25° and blowing a gale.

Oyster gloves were frozen to the clothes line.

My bathroom window had some interesting ice patterns on it.

Bundled up for the coldest conditions, I explored the Salvo Day Use Area.

The Rodanthe Pier pilings were plastered on the northwest sides.

Meanwhile the oyster shoot for Old Christmas had begun. It was low 20’s with a stiff northerly wind.

Everyone was gathering on the lee side of the Community Building, unless they were shooting.

A festive reunion for family and friends, Joey Jr. (left) celebrates with Tom Wiley and Joey O’Neal Sr.

I couldn’t resist shooting my long-time friends Brent Midgett, Willy Smith, and Larry Midgett.

To the victor of the oyster shoot go the spoils. Better eat ’em quick before they freeze.

Emily prepares to shoot as her dad Tom Wiley looks on. As is a proud family tradition here, she serves in the U.S. Coast Guard.

Larry Midgett was helping his daughter Tanya, get ready for her turn to shoot. Tanya is also following in the U.S. Coast Guard tradition, and currently stationed at Hatteras Inlet.

There was always someone waiting to shoot.

Even the young ones got in on the act. Camouflage was everywhere.

The next day frigid temperatures continued. It was 17° at night, and the sound froze out even further, as far as I could see.

From a second story deck, I couldn’t see any open water, only a duck blind on the horizon.

Behind my house the sound was solid. I heard some kids in Salvo rode their bikes on it.

Jon Brown and I marveled at the spectacle. It happens, but not often.

This time of year, as chilly weather sets in, my mind always wanders to a pastime I’ve enjoyed for decades. That is the craving for and the collection of oysters. In my  opinion, the Pamlico Sound produces the best tasting oysters found just about anywhere.

Commercially they are harvested either by using a dredge or tongs. Since I’m a recreational user, I hand pick mine from the inshore shallows.

At times I’d collect and carry them in a burlap bag. Other times I’d shuck to a container as I collected, leaving the shells where I found them. When I bought a kayak, my method of “fishing” became paddling and collecting. It was much easier and I still return the spent shells back from where they came.

My 12 foot kayak can haul a bushel or so.

The other day I found a half bushel of nice ones. At 6 and 8 inches long, the two biggest ones on top are genetically strong. My catch and release philosophy is to plant them in my oyster garden for spawning next Summer.

The 8 inch oyster was impressive and I found it stuck in a muddy creek bottom with the top 2 inches sticking out.

I shucked this fat one for an old friend.

Ready to satisfy, these are beauties. The one on the right has a resident pea crab. They live as a parasite in the shell with the oyster yet are considered a local delicacy. The colder the water gets, the better the quality and flavor!

Have a Merry Christmas.