Category Archives: storms

Mirlo Beach Today

Two weeks ago I left Hatteras Island for a job in the Florida Keys. The road was washed out so Denise and I rode the ferry to Stumpy Point, a two hour transit to the mainland. It was blowing, and ferry service nearly shut down.

Goodbye Rodanthe!

View on the port side, with a Rodanthe bound ferry passing by.

Seas splash against the starboard side of the ferry.

Upon returning nine days later, we heard the 4×4 road was open, so we made our way south of Oregon Inlet, under police escort at 9 o’clock at night. With moderately brisk winds, the sea was rolling right up to our tire tracks, but we made it. I was amazed in the escalating deterioration of highway 12, compared to a few weeks earlier.

With another low pressure winding by today, I decided to have another look.

Mirlo’s broad side takes another beating.

A property owner’s defense seems fruitless.

The most photographed truck on the island lies abandoned.

The cottage on the right, Toes in the Sand, was the original house built on the oceanfront at Mirlo Beach in the late 80’s. Back then, it was called East Wind.

I just hope the electricity stays on.

A Walk Through Mirlo

Storms are unique experiences, and it’s a relief when they’re over. This time around, we had the luxury of having all our utilities in tact. Other than a little apprehension and loss of conceptual time, life here was not too bad.

The tide was down this morning, so we got the truck and drove north for a walk through Mirlo. I started taking pictures there over 35 years ago, long before the subdivision was developed. I’ve seen the road moved, destroyed and rebuilt multiple times. It has become a wonder and curiosity for me. I hardly ever get bored observing it. Walking it after a storm, I get feelings of deja vu.

It’s a battle of man against nature. Nature is winning and Mirlo Beach is washing away. The sign at the entrance to the subdivision reads: “Dare to Dream the Impossible Dream”.

An occupant of this house didn’t heed warnings, and had to be rescued during the storm. The hawser supplied by the rescuers is still tied in place.

Here is what’s left of the victim’s pick up truck.

This is Mirlo’s last stand.

Utility rooms under some Mirlo cottages were destroyed .

A leaner stands second in line from the north end.

The cottage on the very end was recently moved back and new piles installed. Ten feet of sand and renovations to the property were washed away. The house is condemned once again.

Pools at Mirlo Beach oceanfront are not a good idea.

The sign at Seagull Street succumbed to the ocean’s power.

Here’s that guy’s truck again. No free parking here.

Recovery will take some time. There’s miles of roadwork, and our only physical link to the mainland is by ferry, again. It’s an island and always will be.

Sandy Waves

Yesterday the hurricane surged sound tide, flooded our town and streets. We waited it out with our vehicles stowed on higher ground, unable to drive anywhere. My vehicle of choice became a pair of chest waders. I walked to the ocean front to take in the spectacle of hurricane surf. The center of the storm was passing to our northeast, and the winds were howling from a westerly direction.

The beach was strewn with debris. There were pieces of houses and decks.

And there were pieces of Rodanthe Pier. This is the end, complete with rod holders. Lumber is a precious commodity, and I wish I could take it home with me.

After seeing powerful storms for most of my life, I’m still in awe with the experience.

Hurricane Sandy

This has been one of the most unusual storms that I have been through. All seemed normal as Sandy came up offshore. We see lots of systems doing this. Northeast winds are fairly typical with those types of storms. Most of the time they recurve out to sea, and go away.

Last night as Sandy came more abreast of Hatteras, winds became more northerly. Then in passing further northward, we got the expected winds of north west and kicking in a little harder.

This morning the wind direction went more west. Coupled with high lunar tides, we began to see the waters of Pamlico Sound rising. By about 10am, the water was a little over a foot deep in the yard. At 11, I noticed a slight drop in the water depth.

Yesterday everyone picked spots of higher ground to park vehicles. It seemed most folks chose the parking lot at the strip mall in Waves.

The Pamlico Sound tide didn’t drop as much as I had expected, but I knew darn well it would get higher. It rained all day Sunday, with my rain gauge registering 9 inches.

Last night I brought in my friendly felines. Here Grey Guy relaxes with Big Foot. At 2 years old, this is their third hurricane.

The sound tide began coming in about 6 o’clock, and kept rising until 10 or so.

The water was all around my studio, and seemed to level off by 11am.

We heard a home at Mirlo Beach fell into the sea, but this won’t be the only loss, by a long shot.

I’m hopeful that this will be the extent of our dealing with Sandy, then we can begin putting our lives back together.

Under the Influence

It’s been exactly a year since hurricane Irene churned through Pamlico Sound. In the aftermath, things are generally back to normal, but I have to admit I’m more apprehensive than I used to be. The subtle reminders are all around us. I don’t want to deal with it again any time soon.

The bridge at the inlet forged by Irene, is the hallmark reminder of the storm.

A first time visitor from the midwest recently asked me about living here, surrounded by so much water. How do we deal with storms? Yet he noted the stunning beauty of these barrier islands. That’s what makes it so special.

Hatteras Island exists because of the elements, and is being transformed every day. I told him that it’s a tradeoff. One has to come with the other. That’s the price we pay to live here on the ocean.

I love this time of year. The high tourist season is coming to an end, and this is a time of tropical influence.

Clouds and sky dominate the scenery.