Category Archives: storms

Renewal

This is a time of renewal. Rather than celebrating Spring as a turn of the calendar page, I see Spring coming about in the natural world around me. I spend a lot of time in the wetland behind my house.  Specific plants and animals exist there, highly adapted to this aquatic and terrestrial environment. They are fascinating to watch, living in completely flooded conditions one day, and nearly dry the next.

This time of year, the marsh turns from brown to a rich green color. New growth sprouts from the muddy ground, giving way to new life.

Salicornia, commonly called glasswort is a fleshy, salt-tolerant plant that stores water and salt in its tissues. It springs up from the ground this time of year, growing throughout the Summer. As a young plant it is edible and tasty. I have had it in salads, no salt needed. By the time Fall arrives, it becomes a brilliant red.

Another sure sign of Spring is when the fiddler crabs emerge from their winter burrows.

On another front, this is a unique Spring in that our community is rebounding after a hurricane. Things are getting some state of normalcy. Some old things taken out, to be replaced by something new. Edward and William Hooper’s house was torn down 2 weeks ago. Now that was a tough one.

Things continue to change.

Miss Elsie’s Place

Two weeks ago Elsie Hooper’s house was torn down. It was a relic of a home. Her husband Les passed away several years ago. He had told his children when they were growing up, decades ago in that same building, that the original part of the house was well over a hundred years old.

On the morning of February 1, a demolition crew arrived, to take down the house that had survived a multitude of storms, and had sheltered generations of family. When Les and Elsie married, they bought the old house from a nearby property, and with the help of neighbors rolled it to the location where they would raise their family. I suspect much of the house was built with hand tools, and as years passed and the family grew, it was added on to accommodate them.

Elsie and her grand daughter Amanda, take a last look at the interior of a home that housed love and memories.

Hand hewn beams supported a floor in the original part of the home.

Two of Elsie’s children and granddaughter came to lend some emotional support for an ordeal that must have been very difficult.

Well into the demolition, I can only imagine what was going on in Miss Elsie’s thoughts. Her past hopes, dreams and memories going into a pile of rubble. The heartfelt values of any thing left are intangible and within her soul.

Amanda comforts her grandmother.

Elsie looks on with daughter Sharon, and son Jimmie. Nothing could prepare you for something like this, yet I was amazed at their resolve and strength.

A few things were saved, like this beam taken from a shipwreck.

Jimmie Hooper holds some of the hand carved wooden pegs that held the roof rafters together. He plans to make a coat rack with them, for the new home that he’ll build for his mother.

Miss Elsie combs the ground for anything that will give her good memories. Knowing my affinity for oyster shells, she dug some up from around the house and handed them to me. She mentioned that she and Les had shucked and eaten many big oysters there.

Elsie’s new house will be built on the same spot as the old home. The concrete walk ways from the old house were once part of the long-gone Gull Shoal Coast Guard Station. They will be reused for the new house.

Considering the predictions of rising sea level and potential of future storms, I would venture to say that this new home may not have quite the longevity as the old one.

Recovery

The post storm recovery has been a unique experience. In many ways, it’s much more stressful than the storm itself. Hurricane Irene feels like it was just last week, pummeling the villages of Rodanthe, Waves and Salvo. The time of day and the day of the week are remote concepts. It is not business as usual. For me personally, I have experienced emotional highs and lows. One moment I see the devastation of my neighbors’ flooded homes, and then next, I’m witnessing people coming together with incredible support.

Right after the storm, I D Midgett was reunited with his grand-daughter, Bryanna. Both of their homes were inundated with sound tide, and are unlivable. Neighbors have opened up their homes to accommodate them, while they rebuild.

The Volunteer Fire Departments have been instrumental in maintaining everyone’s safety. Hours after the storm’s exit, they were out doing things like checking leaking gas tanks, and later, righting headstones in family cemeteries. Here, Tom Murphy and Jim Shimpach discuss recovery with a rescue squad worker.

Tombstones lay flat on the ground at the ravaged cemetery in the Salvo Day Use Area.

Then there are the volunteers from communities to our south. They came in droves offering a tremendous amount of manpower, stripping houses of water damaged materials, furniture, appliances and cleaning up tons of debris. Russell, Mole and Wolfie (above) drove up from Buxton to lend a hand. They were at my house tearing down plywood underpinning and wet insulation. Then they went on helping many others in need, for several days.

The Salvation Army was here almost immediately, bringing in food and supplies so desperately needed. Not only that but they always greeted us with smiles and uplifting spirits.

The North Carolina Baptist Men brought in portable laundromats and hot showers. And with the Salvation Army scaling back, the Baptist Men are preparing our hot meals every day. Yesterday two of them drove up to my neighbor’s house and offered to spray the underside of her floor to kill any mold that had started. Then they came over to treat the underside of my house, and after that to my other neighbor’s house.

All these selfless people are heros in my book. I could go on and on. From the Dare County Health Department giving out tetanus shots, to Tilghman Gray bringing up a load of fresh bluefish and putting on the best fish fry ever.

The vegetation that would normally be green this time of year, has turned a golden brown from harsh salt spray.

The rack line in the marsh behind my house is deep in washed-up debris.

The landfill at the day use area is enormous, and many of the rental homes have not even been dealt with yet.

A pile of lost hopes and dreams continues to grow.

And the battle for the S-Curve continues to be waged.

Building a line of large sand bags is a first line of defense.

Will man ever be able to tame Hatteras Island?

Weather permitting, the sand dike gets higher and higher.

One load gets dumped, and another empty truck runs to Avon for more sand. They must have trucked over 3,000 loads by now.

Meanwhile at Mirlo Beach, the future looks mighty grim.


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.