Category Archives: storms

Emily

Each Summer my mind drifts to what a hurricane season might bring. It’s hard to describe the feeling when one’s bearing down. Different hurricanes can have similarities, but no two are exactly alike. As strength increases, so does the anxiety.   

Toward the end of August 1993, the fifth named storm, Emily was heading our way. On the 31st, it strengthened to category 3 with an eye about 50 miles wide, centered 25 miles to the east of Cape Hatteras. That put Buxton and Frisco in the eye wall. The unofficial highest wind gust there was reported to be 107 miles an hour, but I’d venture a guess from hearing locals, it must have been higher.

Boarding every window on my house, I hunkered down with Denise and close friend Tim Merritt. Tim had sent his wife, Karen and young son off island. I checked the barometer while getting a phone call from WTOP-TV in Washington, and gave an on-air live report. The barometer read 978 millibars. When the wind switched northwest, the water in Pamlico Sound rose quickly. There was flooding in Buxton and Frisco that almost never had that inundation before.

The next day after Emily passed, I drove south, noticing damage along the way.

The sound side of Buxton took the brunt, with around 10 feet of storm surge and high winds.

Near the Scott Boatyard, was a shattered mobile home court.

Live oaks were uprooted rather than broken.

In Buxton Woods the cleanup was ongoing. Cars were flooded and pines snapped like matchsticks.

Crews from NCDOT and Cape Hatteras EMC had their work cut out.

Rob and Susan West were stacking cords of wood.

I visited Mark Nash in Frisco. His wife Barbara evacuated with their daughter while he stayed home. His story, how the tide came in from Pamlico Sound when the wind switched, was harrowing. Standing inside with knee deep water rising, he put on his wetsuit and climbed out the bathroom window on the lee side of the house. The waterline came to the bottom of the window.

Perhaps one of the top five storms I’ve experienced, I’m not the only one grateful to have gotten through it.

 

 

Erin Intrigue

No two hurricanes are exactly the same. As destructive as they can be, they’re awe-inspiring. Over the years, I’ve experienced many. I’d rather not document devastation, but instead the natural display they can produce. Hurricanes are best seen from a distance.

Thanks to modern meteorology, the storm’s forecast was spot-on. With high predictions to stay offshore, we decided to hunker down at home. Depending on the level of anxiety, one can either board up or not. In this case, we didn’t. Our strongest wind maybe gusting to 50, occurred on the backside, after Erin passed Hatteras Island. Rainfall was negligible and my barometer bottomed out at 996 millibars.

The evening before the hurricane made its pass, I walked to the beach to take it all in.

I was rewarded with a sliver of color as the sun set behind me.

Vegetated dunes took a beating with sea oats and beach elder holding fast.

Adding to the show, impressive cloud formations twirled above.

Thanks to the positioning of a frontal system, the main core of Hurricane Erin missed us, recurving offshore.

It was a close call and the result could have been much different. A bullet dodged. And this is just the beginning of a new hurricane season!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Snow Job

The National Weather Service measured 8 inches of snow in Waves. It was relatively unusual, and it seems in the last 50 years, we’ve had a similar event about every 10 or 12 years. I’ve seen  snowfall amounts a couple times, as much as a foot deep.

This recent storm was fun and visually stimulating. Although blowing a gale, temperatures never dropped much below freezing. It was exhilarating to be the first person to make footprints toward the beach near my home.

Never whiteout conditions, the snowfall was moderate yet lasted nearly 20 hours.

The seas were lively, but the real show for me was the beach.

Wind-driven snow continued as I checked different vantage points.

The dunes can be a treasure trove of possibilities for a camera.

While the tendency is to shoot horizontally, vertical compositions can be just as effective.

What the environment has in store for its next show is anyones guess!

 

Out of Order

Since being constructed in the sixties, Rodanthe Pier has long been a vantage point during  storms. This image dates back to the Fall of 1999. After a series of poundings from the ocean, including Hurricane Dennis, much of the pier had collapsed. The pier house was completely destroyed. These gentlemen weren’t locals, but may have fished there at times.    

I don’t think pay phones exist around here any more and this particular one may have been one of the last vestiges of that technology. Needless to say, the pier was closed and the phone didn’t work. I can only imagine the many folks that used this telephone. Surfers called their buddies if the waves were good, or teenage girls huddled around it talking to friends.

Remnants of the original pier house was strewn all over the beach. Bobby and Dickie Ferrell had built it with cypress from their Currituck sawmill. The weathered siding was still beautiful. I salvaged many of those boards and saved them for projects around my house.

Much shorter than it used to be, that old pier has been rebuilt and repaired constantly. Not only has it been a fishing experience but a social one as well. Its battle with the sea continues.

Old Darkroom

In 1977, I moved from a rented mobile home in Salvo to a house in north Rodanthe. It was spacious and located on highway 12. It marked the start of a new life for me. I installed track lights in the living room, and painted my name on a sheet of plywood to post in the front yard. The best part was having a 14×16 utility room where I built a huge darkroom. I blacked out the windows and made a long sink with epoxy. I’d print any time, day or night. Since it had a window-mounted air conditioner, I occasionally slept there on hot summer nights.

That phase brought years of enjoyment honing my craft, surfing and meeting people. Rent was $150 a month. Visitors showed up to buy photographic prints, so it became a way life.

In March of 1980 there was a blizzard backed with hurricane force winds. I kept cozy burning driftwood in a wood stove. With Hurricane Gloria approaching in 1985, I made my only evacuation from the island. Upon returning I discovered some tide had come in the house and there were dead fish in the yard. I lived there 10 years until 1987 when I built my place in Waves.

Fast-forward to 2011, Hurricane Irene devastated our town with 10 feet of storm surge from the Sound. In the aftermath, I watched an excavator demolish the building that was once a big part of my life. There must have been 4 feet of water inside. I peered into the last room about to go down, my old darkroom!