Category Archives: beach

Irene, the New Benchmark

Despite our well intentioned preparations, hurricane Irene took everyone in our villages by surprise. I knew we were going to have a significant storm surge from the Pamlico Sound, as in storms of the past, but not to the extent that we got. In 2003, Isabel brought in 18 inches of water on my property. Floyd in 1999 was 24 inches. Bonnie in 1998 had 26 inches. The March storm of 1993 flooded with 50 inches of tide, and Irene came in with a whopping 66 inches. According to some of the old timers, the storm of 1944 was a benchmark by which other storms were compared. Flooding back then was apparently somewhere between the March storm and Irene. Hurricane Irene brought in more storm surge from the sound than any storm for the last 75 years. It is now the new benchmark for soundside flooding in our villages on this part of Hatteras Island.

Boarded up, an all too familiar sight.

Pamlico Sound tide blown out upon Irene’s approach.

Tide coming in ahead of the wind shift.

Smoke on the water as the shifted southwest wind picks up, blowing 50 to 60.

During a lull, I ventured to the beach for a shot at the ocean.

It was pure chaos, and I had trouble making it back to the house.

Good thing I wore my chest waders. 3 feet of water had already entered my yard, and I had 5 cats to rescue from the rising water. The barometer had dipped to 964 millibars and in the end dumped 6 feet of sound tide around my house. The water had risen to within a fraction of an inch from coming inside. We were extremely lucky.

I took this screen shot of my computer, using a battery backup, right after the power went off.

The next morning after the storm, the yard was a mess with debris.

The tide had gone right up to my heat pumps, and then some.

This is highway 12 in front of my house after the storm. It was eerily quiet, warm and damp. I would soon find out that many residents did not fare as well as I did. The road down the island had also been washed out.

There were many homes damaged or lost.

And of course, the electricity was cut off.

Also as a result, the cottage Tailwinds eventually fell into the sea.

The road at Mirlo Beach was destroyed.

A leaner at Mirlo Beach.

Highway 12 at the S-Curve.

A new inlet had been cut at the S-Curve, exposing cypress stumps of a forest nearly a thousand years old.

The inlet is actually an outlet caused from the sound rushing into the sea.

Another outlet was carved through North Beach Campground in Rodanthe.

A motor home at North Beach.

Gerald O’Neal surveys the mess at his family-run campground.

The campground’s general store was inundated with sound tide.

Lance Midgett’s house is over 100 years old. This is the first time a tide from Pamlico Sound has gone inside. His cleanup and rebuilding will take a long time.

As residents take on the daunting effort of rebuilding, debris is piling up along highway 12.

Since the day after Irene left, the Salvation Army has been there to help those in need.

They are providing 3 hot meals every day,as well as lifting our spirits.

Now the ferry system is the only way on and off the island.

For days, trucks have been running around the clock to deliver sand from a borrow pit in Avon. NCDOT hopes to fill in the gap at S-Curve cut by the storm surge.

Pallets are moved into place to enable trucks to dump sand for a new roadway. In the meantime, huge swells from Hurricane Katia threaten the shoreline.

Do you think this is really going to work? This is a classic “man against nature” scenario.

Meanwhile the debris continues to pile up along highway 12. This is far from over.

Beach Rendezvous

About this time in 2004, the first tropical system of the season developed in the Atlantic off of northern Florida. As the depression moved northeast paralleling the coast, it was not expected to hit land. In fact, there was no call for an evacuation. As the storm moved erratically, just off the east coast, it was eventually upgraded to Tropical Storm Alex. Still there was no evacuation order.

Then about 75 miles off of Cape Fear, with deep convection building due to the warm Gulf Stream, the storm intensified as Hurricane Alex. Approaching the Outer Banks, Alex quickly developed into a category 2 hurricane with winds in excess of 100 miles an hour. By then it was too late for an evacuation. The center of circulation came within 10 miles of Cape Hatteras, with the western eye wall sweeping along Ocracoke Island.

As a result, there was considerable flooding and high winds on Ocracoke and southern Hatteras Island. Hundreds of vehicles, mostly tourist-owned, were destroyed by salt water intrusion. So visitors were stranded without transportation to get home. Hyde and Dare counties got caught looking on this one, and the damage could have been so much worse. Fortunately, Alex took a more eastward turn and did no further damage as it moved away, speeding off as a category 3 hurricane.

That was another close call.

In my hometown of Waves, the rain and tide combined to choke our streets with water, a minor inconvenience. Winds never reached hurricane force either. I ventured out to the beach and saw an unusual sight of thrill seeking tourists riding out the storm. I’ve lived here a long time, and have never seen anything like it before or since.

The scenery was an interesting juxtaposition, and I photographed from an elevated perch.

The waves were beautiful, and so were the people.

Everyone was having a good time.

And then something special began to happen.

A young couple in front of me were caught in a moment of bliss.

And I could only watch through my camera. It happened so quickly.

If I didn’t know any better, I would swear he had just proposed.

Nevertheless, I suddenly felt that I had witnessed something very genuine.

As another couple strolled by, I continued to photograph. The overall scene had been intriguing, and not something that would typify my beachscape photography.

By late afternoon I was on the beach again, experiencing more of what Alex had left behind.

Other than Hurricane Earl missing us by 85 miles in 2010, Alex was about the last time there was any hurricane action around here. So far, so good.

White Out

Visitors to my Outer Banks studio frequently ask about snowfall at the beach. I tell them that it’s not unusual to have a significant snow event every 5 or 6 years. I’ve seen as much as a foot at a time, and it’s frequently accompanied by high winds. Our last big snow was in 2003, so the blizzard that we just experienced on Saturday came in timely fashion.

The local forecast was for us to expect 1 to 2 inches, but once it began to fall and thicken, I had a feeling that it would probably be more. Of course, my agenda then turns to making photographs during that time, but during white out, gale force conditions, it’s not so easy to see what you are shooting.

The dunes at Pea Island.

Highway 12 looking south in front of my studio.

The driveway to my shop.

Free refrigeration.

The family car next morning. We ended up with about 8 inches.

Look for more after-storm images soon.

Grand Finale for 2010

Even during a winter storm, Hatteras Island is a peaceful place to be during the holidays. Over the years, I’ve gone to visit my family in Virginia most of the time. But when I first moved to Rodanthe in 1973, I spent my first Christmas here, away from the family.

Back then there weren’t nearly as many residents as there are now, and the place seemed empty and desolate during the holidays. That Christmas morning 37 years ago, I remember sitting alone on the porch of Valton Midgett’s 2 bedroom rental cottage during a big winter storm. Over the dune tops, I could see huge ocean swells rolling in, and a fierce northwest wind blowing spray off the wave tops, into dark and ominous skies. That image is burned in my mind, and I took no photographs. It was a defining, blissful moment for me.

Although things have changed since then, this Christmas was similar. A lot of locals left to be with loved-ones, and highway 12 was virtually empty and silent. At no other time of year can this be experienced, although hurricane evacuations can come close.

With this recent winter storm in the forecast, I was hoping to see a big snow event here. But all we had was less than a inch of rain, and a light dusting of snow, not enough to blanket the ground.

There were bitter winds coming off the Pamlico Sound. Tides were well above normal, enough to allow sea water to dribble across highway 12 at the S-Curve. With no beach there now, the “renourished” dune line built there by NCDOT is all but gone again.

I took this photograph from my truck as I drove past the dune at the S-Curve on highway 12.

The old decommissioned Coast Guard Station at Oregon Inlet awaits its uncertain fate. It has been restored and stabilized by the State of North Carolina.

This is the site of a borrow pit at Oregon Inlet, where NCDOT has excavated sand to rebuild dune systems along highway 12.

Those that live here mark storms as a calendar. We associate our memories with certain storms in the past. Even though this one had minor impact for us, it was significant as all storms are.

Each one changes this dynamic barrier island in some way. The beaches and dunes shift about as a result of moving wind and water. The dunes and highway, like many man made artifacts here, are hanging by a thread. None of it is permanent.

Soul Surfers

My interest in surfing began in the 60’s, when I saw a Surfer Magazine for the first time. Even though it took me a few more years to actually ride a wave, I was hooked on the beauty and nature of surfing.

As a young college student, I knew it was time to jump ship when I found myself in chemistry class with a copy of Surfer wedged into my textbook. I left and moved to the beach. That was a turning point for me, and life’s path was narrowed down to where it would lead me today.

Louie getting ready for a paddle at the Shoals in Rodanthe, 1974. Back then nearly everyone surfed at the Lighthouse, and bypassed our villages.

I drifted into a network of friends that were also absorbed in the surfing culture. To us, it wasn’t a sport at all, but an almost spiritual way of life. Living carefree and day to day, we were essentially dropouts from what was typical America. Most of us weren’t looking for the two-car garage and the white picket fence dreams of most of our contemporaries. Waves were the most important thing, at times super-ceding jobs and even girl friends.

About 1968, I met Gary Revel at South Side, Indian River Inlet. His surfing took on a dynamic quality. He was among my new found surfing companions and could have easily gone into professional levels, but chose not to. We became life-long friends and still keep in touch. This photo of him cutting back at South Side was taken over 40 years ago, when I was just beginning to hone my photography skills.

Louie Batzler at South Side circa 1970. We surfed and traveled together for many years. As a trained brick mason, he found us construction jobs that provided our income.

Mark Foo was a very young kid, but hung around the older surfers. He was very driven and loved surfing more than anything. He used to wake me up for dawn patrol by tossing pebbles at my bedroom window. He could be a pest at times. Mark went on to the Hawaiian Islands, became a world renown big wave rider, and a highly successful entrepreneur. In 1994, he tragically lost his life while surfing Maverick’s in California.

The gang at Barton Decker’s surf shop circa 1974.

Summer of 1975, we gave these two hitch-hiking surfers a ride, while driving to Cape Hatteras Lighthouse for a big north swell.

Mike Langowski, known as the Polock, rode his long boards even after board designs got shorter. 1977 photo taken at the lighthouse.

Dave Elliot and Jeff Ray checking the waves in the village of Waves. That was the first order of the day, to dictate what you did with your time. No waves, then you do something else, like go fishing or work on your broken down car. Dave was a stylish surfer, especially longboarding. Jeff was also a competent and well-traveled surfer. He later introduced me to Costa Rica in 1982.

Robin, Bryant, Brent and Roger all pitch in to sand a hot coat on a board that I shaped for Roger. We lived in 2 trailers on the oceanfront in Waves. Little did we realize that there would be million dollar beach houses on this property 35 years later…. nor did we care.

Brent Clark on a beautiful Pea Island wave in 1974. This secret spot had a hard bottom well offshore. From the beach, the waves looked much smaller than they actually were. It was a really long paddle, several hundred yards out, and broke like a reef point for about five years. It had some of the largest and best shaped waves that I ever rode, and only about 10 people knew about it.