Category Archives: Outer Banks

Shad Boats

Since my early days on Hatteras Island, I’ve been drawn to remnants of the times past. Old wooden boats have been particularly fascinating. Some are still operating and some lay derelict or forgotten. One of my favorite designs is the shad boat.

They were first built in the 1870’s on Roanoke Island by George Washington Creef. Designed for local sound waters and commercial fishing hauls, demand for shad boats increased. So other regional boat builders began constructing their own versions.

On June 15, 1987 the North Carolina General Assembly adopted the Shad Boat as the official State historical boat of North Carolina.

On a 1992 visit to Wilmington, I saw a newly built replica sailing down the Cape Fear River.

When I took this shot in 1980 at the Beasley fish house in Colington, surviving shad boats had long since had their sails replaced with motors.

One day the same year, I photographed the Beasley crew long-hauling Pamlico Sound at Rodanthe. They caught 10,000 pounds of fish, and bailed them by hand into a boat called Old Shad.

The Rodanthe harbor was Beasley’s base of operations. That’s OLD SHAD on the left with REDFIN rafted up next to it.

Hatterasman Michael Peele uses his shad boat for pound net fishing. I took this photo in 1982. To this day, he still uses it.

About the same time, I had a job at Mike Scott’s Buxton Woods Boat Works where we restored Lee Peele’s old workboat. More recently built, it had a hull with hard chines rather than the more traditional rounded bottom. It was beefed up with a durable West System epoxy treatment.

On the Outer Banks it’s not unusual to see a boat in someone’s yard. In 1999 while riding my bicycle around Ocracoke, I admired this beautiful boat blocked up for maintenance.

Spring of 2000, I shot an assignment for CoastWatch Magazine, concerning the Museum of the Albermarle’s restoration of a 1904 Shad Boat. It was built by Alvirah Wright, a logger, decoy maker and boat builder from Camden County.

The restoration was extensive. All good wood was left intact, but most of the boat was replaced. Today the finished product sits in the lobby of the museum as a permanent exhibit. Before that, it had been in a Wright family relative’s yard, rotting away.

In 2002 the North Carolina Maritime Museum in Manteo had an 1883 George Washington Creef Shad Boat on display. It was used as a model to build a new boat with the same lines.

The new boat was built next to the 1883 boat.

Fully planked, it was made with scarce, aromatic Atlantic White Cedar, commonly referred to as juniper.

Just before it’s christening, I saw the new boat all finished except for the bottom paint.

When I first met John Herbert, he was one of the Rodanthe old-timers. I knew him as a friend, a former duck hunter and the Keeper of Ole Buck. He was also a cook at Chicamacomico Coast Guard Station during the 1918 Mirlo Rescue. He told me how they used to have sail boat races on the Pamlico Sound and most of the time he won with his shad boat. It was a bit smaller and faster than most, and must have been a grand sight under sail. In 1985, I marveled at it, high and dry in the marsh at Rodanthe.

 

 

 

Dorian

It’s hard to describe the feeling of having a hurricane, one of the most powerful forces in nature, spinning your way. Being affected numerous times, I can say that it doesn’t get any easier, and my sense of time becomes warped.  It’s nerve wracking, physically exhausting and roulette all rolled into one. Preparation is essential, and I often wonder how the old timers did it before advanced meteorological science. With Dorian we had a few days notice to secure property, evacuate or hunker down.

The beach that would normally be enjoyed by throngs of visitors was nearly empty after the evacuation order.

You’d be hard pressed to find a more idyllic tropical shore, yet two days later, Dorian would be passing through.

After I took my gallery sign down, the streets became deserted and rendered a surreal feeling.

Those choosing to ride it out use every spot of high ground in an effort to save their vehicles. Elevated parking spaces are limited and highly sought.

Six years ago we adopted two stray cats, and they had already been through three hurricanes. Now this one. We set them up in my gallery where a number of other items had to be stowed.

I made one last pass around town contemplating the event that was bearing down on us.

Early Friday morning, Dorian made landfall on Hatteras and before the power went out I made a screen shot of the eye over Cape Point. My barometer, some twenty miles north of the eye wall, dipped to 966 millibars. It was a relief for us, but not for those on Ocracoke and the southern villages of Hatteras Island.

After Dorian hit the point and sped offshore, the wind shifted from the northwest and blew the hardest with gusts of about 85 miles an hour. The tide rose from Pamlico Sound and resulted in a foot or two of seawater on the main road.

My house withstood another onslaught and I could hardly wait to remove the plywood from the windows.

As the water subsided, I realized we had escaped the wrath of Dorian, but those on Ocracoke and lower Hatteras Island will be picking up the pieces for quite a while.

Beach Walker

Charley was a minimal hurricane that went up the Pamlico Sound in August of 1986. Hatteras Island was evacuated and the sound tide rose to a moderately high level. It wasn’t devastating at all. But like many storms it gave me an opportunity to shoot a series of photographs, hoping to get at least one that might be memorable for me.

As Charley passed, I hit the Rodanthe oceanfront to encounter a strolling beachcomber. He didn’t notice me and I waited for a good set of waves to record a moment in passing.

A Legacy of Bravery

Moving to Rodanthe decades ago, I noticed how common the name Midgett was. Businesses were owned by Midgetts or their descendants. My first 3 landlords were Midgetts, and ultimately the property that I bought to build my house, was purchased from the Clarence Midgett family. Many of my friends have had, or descended from families with, that same last name. It’s believed that the first Midgett to arrive here in the 1600’s was likely a shipwreck survivor.

The family is engrained in local history. Many enlisted in the early US Lifesaving Service, and later the Coast Guard. Heroic deeds of the Midgetts on the Outer Banks have been well- documented. Most renowned is the Mirlo Rescue of 1918 led by John Allen Midgett, Jr. from Chicamacomico Station.  For this act of valor, Midgett and his 5-man crew were awarded prestigious Gold Lifesaving Medals and Grand Crosses of the American Cross of Honor. In 1921, the British government bestowed Gold Lifesaving Medals to the men as well as a silver cup to Keeper Midgett from the Board of Trade.

In 1971, to honor the former keeper at Chicamacomico, a 378-foot Hero-class Coast Guard Cutter was launched, named John Allen Midgett, Jr. Since then it has served the varied missions of the modern day Coast Guard. It continues to do so, currently using the name,  John Midgett.

Earlier this month a new US Coast Guard Cutter was docked at Nauticus in Norfolk for a pre- commissioning ceremony. Midgett descendants and friends were invited to tour the newly christened John Allen Midgett, Jr. At 418 feet, it’s a Legend-class cutter whose mission is maritime homeland security, law enforcement, marine safety, environmental protection and national defense. It is the successor to the first Midgett Cutter and is to be based in Honolulu where it will be commissioned next month.

Everything about the John Allen Midgett, Jr. is strictly business.

A 57 millimeter gun turret sits on the foredeck.

Gunner’s Mate Patrick Reinholz displayed a mounted machine gun and took questions on the port side.

Maritime Enforcement Specialists Francisco Rubio (in front) and Michael Midgette explained their roles and weaponry. Midgette, originally from Manteo, is a descendent. There have been several spelling variations of the Midgett name going back to common ancestry.

The stern launch held one of two cutter boats. This is the 35-foot Long Range Interceptor.

A state-of-the-art control panel on the bridge reminded me of a powerfully sophisticated video game.

Captain Alan McCabe addressed visiting guests and crew on the ship’s helicopter pad.

The ship’s Sponsor is Jazania O’Neal, granddaughter of Captain John Allen Midgett, Jr. She initialed the keel plate as the  John Allen Midgett, Jr. was being built. Jonna Midgette is Jazania’s daughter and Matron of Honor. They will travel to Hawaii for the commissioning.

From the bridge, I photographed the assembled family descendants and crew. At 98 years old, the eldest was Lovie Midgett of Rodanthe. She attended the commissioning of the original Cutter in 1972.

Despite the new Cutter’s actual namesake, it is a tribute to all Midgetts with connections to the Coast Guard, as well as all Outer Bankers who take pride in local history and lifesaving.

Touring the ship was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

 

 

Belle Swell

The first week of August 1976, as a tropical system was approaching Hatteras, I was living in a flimsy mobile home behind the dunes in Salvo. By the 8th, the storm had developed into a major hurricane with winds peaking at 120 mph. Hurricane Belle was the first storm, since I’d moved to Hatteras Island, that had people suddenly evacuating.

My neighbors, Johnny and Linda Hooper, welcomed me into their brick home where I spent the night as the center passed within 60 miles offshore. The next day as Belle sped northward, winds shifted more westerly as huge swells poured ashore. Conditions were favorable for some great surf.

With a board and photography equipment in the microbus, I headed to the lighthouse, the only spot to handle such radical conditions. It was tumultuous and defied my skill as a surfer. Not many were able to paddle out past the giant breaking waves. Discouraged surfers washed in on the beach and only watched. Not many were successful in making waves at all.

From the dunes I took a few pictures with a 650mm Century lens attached to a tripod-mounted Nikon.  The best ride I saw was when Terry Metts of Frisco, dropped in on, what some would call, a solid ten-footer. Tall and lanky, he was barely halfway down the face and it was still well over his head. He had the skill, stamina and the board to pull it off. Brian Jones also a Frisco surfer, lay prone on the face of the wave, hoping for the best, while another paddler punched through the cresting lip. It was chaotic with constant, relentless swells. By the end of the day, Belle swells were pretty much gone.