Category Archives: Outer Banks

William and Edward

When I first moved to Hatteras Island, I noticed how special the locals were. Some families had lived on the island for generations, their ancestors arriving here as victims of shipwrecks. They were isolated and not affected by the outside world very much. I admired their simple, resourceful lives.

William and Edward Hooper were born and raised in Salvo. William worked in Norfolk for a while, but other than that, they were here all their lives. They were brothers and best friends. You would hardly ever see one without the other, and mentioning one almost always required mentioning the other. They were inseparable and the kindest people you’d ever meet.

Edward was widely known as the Postmaster of one of the smallest post offices in the country.

They were always hospitable when I visited them and would sometimes invite me for dinner.

One of my last visits was November of 2010. Eating at the kitchen table I noticed a window pane had fallen out and I volunteered to fix it.

When I returned the following day to work on it, they came out and stood under an old fig tree to chat with me. I asked if I could take their picture, and they said yes.

Little did I know that 9 months later, Hurricane Irene would sweep through and drastically change their lives. The flooded family homestead was no longer habitable so they were displaced to an assisted living facility.

Edward passed away a year and a half later and William 8 months after that.

They were 91 and 83 respectively.

I miss them a lot, and am reminded how things never remain the same on this beautiful barrier island that we call home.

Beautiful Skimmer

south point

I’ve always loved visiting the South Point of Ocracoke. It’s not only a great beach for hanging out, surfing or fishing, but also my favorite place to photograph shorebirds. The flat expanse and tidal influences make it a perfect habitat. The variety of birds is diverse and at times, large in numbers.

Last month relaxing on that same beach, I set up a long lens as Sanderlings and Red Knots foraged nearby.

tag team

Two of the Sanderlings played a territorial tag team match.

An Osprey hovered overhead ready to dive into its next meal.

Then a Black-Bellied Plover skittered in the wash, hardly ever stopping to pose.

Minutes later a Black Skimmer cruised by downwind about 20 yards, then turned and flew back upwind in a remarkable way. The quick, short wingbeats don’t touch the water. The extended lower mandible is designed to scoop up small fish. It’s fascinating to see, and even more rewarding when a camera is ready.

That beautiful Black Skimmer was the icing on my cake.

New Inlet

One of the first places I explored on Hatteras Island was New Inlet on Pea Island. The old remnant bridge that’s still there, was built after the storm of ’33 cut an inlet from sound to sea. As a result, traffic was interrupted on the sand road, so the state began construction of a bridge to span the troubled spot. The new inlet filled back in on it’s own, and the state halted construction before it was completed.

I used to walk out precariously on that deteriorating, unfinished bridge to catch hard crabs on baited strings. It wasn’t uncommon to come home with a few dozen nice ones. Since then, New Inlet has always brought me a feeling of wonder and tranquility.

I wasn’t the first one to get enjoyment there. Long before, there were fish camps where locals could hunt and fish for sustenance. It must have been a beautiful, bountiful outpost.

One of the first photographs that I made at New Inlet was taken in 1979 as I was testing a brand new 400mm Novoflex lens for the first time. I parked my truck on the shoulder of highway 12, stood in the bed and made 4 handheld, identical exposures to see how the lens worked. The shot later became a somewhat iconic image as the cover of Hatteras Journal, written by Jan DeBlieu.

I took a similar shot in 1982. John Herbert’s sail skiff, once again, served as a crucial element in the composition.

By January of 1985, the fish camp once owned by St. Clair Midgett had dropped from it’s foundation into the water. Later that same year, when Hurricane Gloria blasted through, it took what was left, completely away.

In May of 1985, I shot this smaller camp just northwest of St. Clair’s. It too was taken out by Gloria.

Winters Too

The cold weather has been particularly persistent this winter. Even the water temperature around us has dropped more than normal. Behind my house the icy sound was below 32° at times. Three days ago, we had our first snowfall. It lasted a good part of the day and was of a wet variety. It accumulated a couple inches and was pretty. It stuck to the trees in my yard, and I reflected how nice the live oak looked that I transplanted years ago from the old Coast Guard station at Chicamacomico.

Winters

Years ago, the thing that impressed me about Hatteras Island was how temperate the winters could be. The first few years after I moved here, I don’t think it ever went below freezing. I learned that the water surrounding the island acts as a heat sink and tends to keep temperatures more moderate, compared to those to the north and inland.

This year has not been one of those winters. The cold fronts have been colder, stormier and more frequent.

A series of storms took its toll on the Rodanthe Pier. Last week I could see that the end of the pier would soon collapse into the sea.

An hour after I made this shot, the pier became 75 feet shorter. The next day, the owners retrieved some of the timbers washed in on the beach and are resolved to rebuild it.

In the meantime, temperatures have plummeted and the Pamlico Sound froze overnight. The ice sculpted on the shoreline was a sight to behold. There were icicles on the marsh of all different shapes and sizes.

The sound was solid ice for hundreds of yards off shore.

When the waters freeze, the ducks come in wherever they can find open water. At a pond near my house, I found a variety including this Ring-Necked Duck.

A Pie-Billed Grebe was among the group.

There were about 50 Ruddy Ducks.

I was excited to see this Canvasback. It’s a sure sign that winter is far from over, and that it’ll only get colder.

Michael Halminski Photographer

Waves, North Carolina