Category Archives: People

Chesapeake Bay Skipjacks

My fascination for oysters didn’t kick in until I moved to Hatteras Island. Starting out, times were tough financially, but it was a worthwhile tradeoff for the experiences in store for me. Back then you could walk the shore of the Pamlico Sound and get all the oysters you wanted for great meal. I remember picking them with Larry Midgett and some of the other locals, and it became one of my favorite things to do.

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Larry Midgett, Tim Merritt and “Big Leroy” picking some oysters in a creek in 1974. Today this creek on Hatteras Island doesn’t produce much anymore.

 

In the early 80’s, I began going to Easton, MD to participate in a photography exhibit at the popular Waterfowl Festival. During the show in 1981, an acquaintance that I knew through surfing the Delaware shore told me that he was dredging oysters on the Chesapeake Bay Skipjack, Stanley Norman. He invited me out for a sail, so once the festival was over, I took Trent Palmer up on his offer. The wind was light, and so was the oyster catching, but I knew right then that I wanted to spend some more time photographing the only commercial fishing boats in the United States still using sail power. The next day, I returned to Hatteras to resume my life there, still thinking about the skipjacks.

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Trent Palmer out on the bowsprit of Stanley Norman furling the jib in November of 1981.

 

Later that winter, Trent told me about a couple of boats that had openings for crew members. So I drove to Tilghman Island to see about working on a Chesapeake Bay Skipjack. My intention as a budding photographer was to shoot some of these historical workboats under sail. The only way I could do so, was to seek employment to pay my way. I was a little nervous at first, but once I stepped aboard the Virginia W in the predawn hours, I met Tim Stearns, the owner and captain of the 1902 built skipjack. He didn’t fit the mold of what I expected from a typical sea captain. From the very beginning, he was welcoming, kind, didn’t shout at the crew, and we became very good friends. I was also impressed that this young man of small stature had bought this rotten, derelict boat, and restored it nearly singlehandedly in about a years time. It became a very seaworthy workboat and had a new life once again.

 

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Virginia W in port at Tilghman Island rafted up to the Anna McGarvey as ice flows through Knapps Narrows. According to records at the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum, she was built in Oriole, Maryland in 1902, and is 44 feet in length.

 

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Captain Tim Stearns is at the helm of Virginia W near the mouth of the Choptank River.

 

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Me the “greenhorn” after a good day of working a muddy bottom. Tim asked me to hand him my camera to take this shot. Then I reciprocated and took his picture amid 120 bushels of oysters. We had a good hard working crew, and I dredged aboard Virginia W for the better part of 2 winters, always with my waterproof Nikonos camera close by to catch those magnificent boats sailing by.

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With the Chesapeake Bay Bridge behind us, I jumped out on the bowsprit of the Virginia W to make this photograph while we sailed into Annapolis. We spent the night on board there with 100 bushels on deck.

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Leigh Hunteman handles the bow line of  Virginia W to shovel out at the dock on Tilghman Island. Leigh later became the only female captain of a skipjack by running the Sigsbee.  

 

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The Stanley Norman was built in Salisbury, MD in 1902 and is 47 feet long at the waterline. Here owner/captain Ed Farley steers her over an oyster bed.

 

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Sigsbee at 47 feet was built at Deal Island in 1901. Here she pulls dredges under full sail, with Captain Wade Murphy at the helm.

 

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The skipjack Kathryn at 50 feet, was built in Crisfield, Maryland in 1901. Her bottom is planked fore and aft with rounded chines, rather than the typical herring bone, hard chined bottoms of most skipjacks. Here she flies by us pulling both dredges, 4 reefs in the mainsail, with captain and owner Russell Dize at the helm.

 

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After a day out on the water, Captain Darryl Larrimore guides the 42 foot Claude W. Somers back to port powered by the yawl boat. She was built in 1911. Part of the history of this skipjack is tragic. In 1977, she went to the bottom in a storm near Crisfield, taking all of the 6 crew with her.

 

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This stern view shows the Kathryn as she follows a path cut by a state ice-breaker in order to get back to port. The temperature was 10 degrees and the ice a foot thick. My feet were still cold despite felt-lined work boots and 2 pair of socks. This was one of the last days of my experience on Chesapeake Bay Skipjacks. Thus ended my career as an oysterman.

My Nights in Rodanthe

 

I have spent a few thousand nights in Rodanthe. As a young man, fresh out of college, I relocated there from Northern Virginia, via Bethany Beach, Delaware where I had befriended a small group of surfers. From there I made surfing trips to Hatteras, only to disappoint myself by returning to the mundane life up north. I was at an age where I was trying to find myself. Hatteras Island seemed like a great place to do just that, and besides I could surf beautiful waves while I did my thinking.

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A perfect setup on a Rodanthe sand bar, compliments of hurricane Gabrielle.

In 1973, I moved into a small house with friends, Mike and Mary Jo, along with my best surfing buddy, Louie. Our landlords were Valton and Lovie Midgett. Close by, there was a great surfing break out on the “outside bar”. An old wrecked LST stabilized the bottom for the most consistent waves. The ride was much like surfing a point break. In those days, Rodanthe was relatively untouched by development, so a handful of us were the only ones there to enjoy the bounty. 

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Valton and Lovie Midgett’s house.

A few months later, Louie and I moved to a trailer in the adjacent town of Waves. We rented from a local man named Luke Midgett. His family roots were deeply planted there. Our trailer was in an open field at the oceanfront. We surfed our brains out, and worked odd jobs to pay our expenses, including rent of $150 a month, split 2 ways. It was a life close to the elements, and we loved it.  Today there’s nothing but rows of rental houses on the site. I lived there for almost 3 years until I relocated to Salvo, the town adjacent to Waves. 

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Luke’s Village

Moving from one trailer to another trailer, this next one was newer and bigger, so I reserved the largest bedroom for my first official darkroom. Thus began my humble living as a photographer, even though it was part time. I honed other skills like woodworking, commercial fishing, and waterfowl hunting to get by. All along, I was teaching myself to make color prints, doing some shows and exhibits. Things were definitely picking up. This time I rented from a lady named Barbara Midgett. To help defray living expenses, my good friend BJ moved in some time later.

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BJ chopping for our preferred mode of heating. Wood was an abundant fuel source. It washed in on the beach and all we needed to do was to collect it.

After another 3 years, I found a larger house to rent in north Rodanthe. It was 1978. In the front rooms, I built a big darkroom with a gallery space next to it, then placed a sign out front on highway 12. I was open for business. Rodanthe, Waves and Salvo still was experiencing very little development. But now I was somehow able to pay most of my way with photography, and I loved taking pictures, printing and hanging them. I also loved the local people that lived there. 

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The view from my bedroom window was the Chicamacomico Lifesaving Station, decommissioned in 1954.

My friend Robin, lived in a hundred year old house across the street. He hunted, fished and surfed much as I did. Mainstream America still had not discovered Rodanthe, Waves and Salvo. Life was good and uncrowded. We experienced storms, floods and big waves. A few surfing friends came down for visits. It was a simple, yet full and rewarding life. My photography gallery was working better and better, so I began “working” full time photographing the environment around me.

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Robin Gerald was my alter ego.

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Burgess Hooper always fished with Princess.

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Barton Decker at the original Hatteras Island Surf Shop, circa 1978.

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For about 5 years, I worked as a waterfowl hunting guide along side Burt Hooper. He learned the craft from his father, Ed. Here he ties off some of the 200 redhead duck decoys that I took 8 months to paint. It was gratifying to see dense flocks of waterfowl pitch in to these hunting rigs.

In 1985 I finally bought a piece of land from Miss Lillian Midgett. It was on the scenic Pamlico Sound side of the island. This is where I began plans to build my studio home. It was the beginning of the end of my nights in Rodanthe. But that is another chapter in my life.

Tribute to a Hatterasman

 

The first time I saw Nacie Peele was in an oil painting owned by a former employer, Alex Kotarides. Alex owned a waterfowl hunting club where I helped out in the maintenance and guiding chores. The large painting showed him mending a fishing net, and I would stand there transfixed with that image. It evoked a wonderful maritime quality and tranquility. I had heard nothing but good stories about Nacie. Ever since I moved to Hatteras Island, I was amazed at the commercial fishing way of life, and over the years, I’ve worked, using photography to document this vanishing lifestyle.

Some years later, I was shooting a magazine assignment involving Michael Peele fishing his pound net. It was a pretty day, and the fishing not particularly great. But I got my pictures, and we headed back to shore. On the way in, we spotted another fisherman working a pound net. It was Michael’s uncle Nacie, and we went over to check his catch. I was excited that this man at nearly 80 years old was still out in his skiff, pulling nets. I remember thinking to myself, here he is, a quintessential Hatterasman, the real thing. I made several more shots, and we went in.

Ever since then, I’d stop in to visit Mr. Nacie occasionally. He always remembered my name and had such a gentle, welcoming demeanor. His stories told of an interesting life, from surviving a torpedoed ship in the war, hauling in hundreds of boxes of fish from a pound net, and building boats. He did eventually stop fishing in his mid-80’s, but was still sharp and tended a magnificent vegetable garden.

  

Nacie passed away peacefully on January 16 not many yards away from the spot where he was born. He was 89 years of age.

 

Old Christmas

I don’t know of any place where there is a celebration quite like Old Christmas in Rodanthe. The exact origin seems to be a little sketchy, but one thing is for sure, it’s been a long-standing tradition, passed down from one generation to the next, for over a hundred years and probably much more. Before the booming tourist industry, Rodanthe was an isolated village, and the locals were slow to change. It is thought that the celebration of Old Christmas was carried over when England switched from the Julian to the the Gregorian calendar in the 1700’s. That took the celebration of Christmas Day from January 5th to December 25th.

Years ago the celebration in Rodanthe involved residents going from one end of town to the other, making music, merriment, visiting neighbors and dressed in costume. Today it’s evolved and is celebrated on the first, but sometimes second, Saturday in January. It takes place at the old schoolhouse that was converted into a community building. It is not a religious celebration, but a time to be with others.

There’s nothing quite like oysters to bring coastal folks together, so festivities start in the afternoon with an oyster shoot. Participants fire a shotgun at a target. Whoever gets a shot closest to the bulls-eye, wins a bag of oysters. This goes on for hours and everyone, young and old alike, has a great time. There’s oyster shucking, reminiscing, and a little drinking, not necessarily in that order.

In the meantime, some of the best cooks in town are preparing a homemade supper in the kitchen. Stewed chicken with pie-bread is the traditional favorite. About the time the oyster shoot ends, supper is ready, a band arrives and the merriment continues on into the evening.

Bushels of oysters are roasted over a fire and shoveled onto wooden tables, where folks can indulge to their heart’s content. All the while, the band is playing and people are dancing and carrying on.

The high point of the celebration comes around nine o’clock with the arrival of Old Buck. Legend has it that Old Buck, a wild steer, lives in Trent Woods (Frisco) and visits Rodanthe every Old Christmas. John Edgar Herbert is Old Buck’s current caretaker, a job passed down to him from his father. John Edgar and Old Buck enter the hall and meander around the dance floor, bumping into things and people in the way. Children are excited. Adults are jubilant. Old Buck gets petted and sometimes spanked. It’s a beautiful thing. As quickly as he came, Old Buck is gone….. for another year.

Carey’s Garden

Last Spring my best friend, Robin, had several of us over for dinner and drinks. It’s not at all unusual to be socializing in this special house. Now the only thing different is that Robin’s wife, Carey, is no longer with us, as she once was. Carey, a dear friend to many, passed away last August after a 2 year battle with cancer. Carey was many things…. a devoted Family Nurse Practitioner, caregiver, wife, friend, gardener, not to mention her ability to bring people together…. celebrating life.

That Spring day as we gathered, the setting sun emitted a wondrous light, I thought about shooting a beautiful landscape out on the beach. But as I stood in that yard with my friend April, the landscape magically appeared in Carey’s garden….. where she had nurtured it for so many years. Despite her absence, as its caretaker for several months, the garden took on a beautiful and breathtaking quality. Splotches of color burst out in floral displays. There’s a turtle, a dog and some whimsical snails gracing the block wall that she built. Even the chair under a magnificent eucalyptus tree that she planted, invited one to sit and admire this creation.

In her memory, a scholarship fund was established to help those islanders that endeavor to follow Carey’s care giving path. At a recent fund raiser attended by hundreds in our community, this image of Carey’s Garden brought in a high bid of $400. After the auction many expressed an interest in having their own print of Carey’s Garden. Due to this demand, I am offering limited edition, signed copies for $200, of which $100 will be donated to the scholarship fund. All prints are made using archival paper and ink. Matting, shipping and sales tax when applicable are extra.