Category Archives: Sea

Elusive Beachscapes

I’ve been struggling with photography most of my adult life. Don’t get me wrong. Making photographs has brought me a lot of satisfaction, not to mention a livelihood. But working to get better at any skill requires repetition and, pardon the pun, focus. From the very beginning, my approach was to be personally involved in the entire process from visualization, clicking the shutter, and ultimately hand-developing the print. I wasn’t formally educated as a photographer, but instead chose to deal with it on my own terms… teaching myself, getting inspired, going out and shooting, making mistakes, reshooting, printing…. making mistakes, printing again.

Take beachscapes for example. It’s a hit or miss. I can’t count the number of times that I’ve gone out in search of a great shot on the beach, only to be disappointed when editing later. Circumstances are never the same, never repeating. There are so many aspects in the equation…. the weather, the light, foreground and background, composition, not to mention the perspective that different lenses allow. It’s difficult, if not impossible to convey the reality that I feel, into a two-dimensional image. The scenery can be emotionally overwhelming. And all I can do is try to get as close as I can. It can’t be forced. It just has to happen.

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Dunes and Storm Surf is one of my favorite shots taken in 1982. I’ve frequently used this as a model for other attempts at stormy beachscapes, but I’ve never even come close to this kind of impact. Here I learned to compress the background wave energy into the foreground, using a small telephoto lens. In this case, it was a Nikkor 135mm lens and my preferred film, Kodachrome.

A second example of bringing the wave energy close to the viewer was shot from on top of a dune at the infamous “S-Curves” north of Rodanthe. This time, the wave was actually breaking close to the dunes, so I only needed my trusty, super sharp 55mm Micro-Nikkor to make this image. Again shot on Kodachrome, I have always loved the texture and color in the foreground. This image was made in 1984, when there was still a relatively natural dune line in place. It was only a few weeks later, I was shooting huge waves generated from Hurricane Josephine from this very same vantage point. Unbeknownst to me at the time, a big one struck the base of the dune, surged upward 15 feet and engulfed me and my Nikon F2 with sea water. The camera survived somehow, but the photomic meter and viewfinder had to be replaced. This image sold very well for me, and is called Sea Oats and Storm Surf .

Most of my beachscapes are horizontally composed, but sometimes it’s good to rotate the camera 90 degrees for a vertical shot. Successful verticals can be very strong visually, so it’s always worth a try. I call this image Sea Oats and Cold Front. It was taken in 1986 when I began to experiment with Fujichrome Velvia. I used a 28mm lens for this one.

In 1991, Hurricane Bob was heading up the coast. An evacuation was executed on Hatteras Island. As I recall, it was packing winds of nearly 120 mph, and I decided to ride this one out. As I drove north in the fleeing traffic to Pea Island, the sun was setting and the leading edge of the storm clouds was beginning to close in. The sky was spectacular. As I photographed this image, the cars on highway 12 were lined bumper to bumper trying to get off the island. The eye wall of Bob ended up passing us only about 15 miles offshore, and our winds gusted to 100. The folks in New England didn’t fare as well as we did. They got slammed. This one is called Before the Storm. It was taken using my 28mm Nikkor on an F3 body and Velvia film.

October Beach is one of my more serene beachscapes. It was taken in 2004 with no film. I had entered the digital photography age in 2003. After trying to master image processing for 30 years, I had to re-teach myself the basics of imaging once again.

summer-squall

On August 8 of 2005, I peered out of my studio to see some unusually interesting cloud formations moving in from the southeast. This is also a month when the tassels on the sea oats are fresh and new. Most of the out-take photos of this scene were shot as horizontals. However I remembered my rule of turning the camera to a vertical position, and liked what I saw. This is called Summer Squall.

It always helps to have a waterspout offshore. On the morning of August 23 of 2005, I stepped out on the deck of my studio/home in Waves and saw a column of water reaching into the sky. I’ve seen this before, but never in my many years living on Hatteras was it so well presented.

For my photograph to be successful, the image has to satisfy me, nothing more. I’ve tried replicating some favorite shots, and it usually doesn’t seem to work as well as the original model. So I keep trying, and eventually something good happens.

For many years in the darkroom, and now on a computer screen, I transfer that image to a print, still another “make or break” step in the process. If I didn’t make my own prints, I’d feel like I was short changing myself. I have to complete the entire process myself, in order to be the photographer that I am.

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.

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.

Another One Goes Down

I’ve been watching houses wash into the ocean for years, and it’s always an experience of power. Nothing is permanent near the surf zone. Back in the 70’s and 80’s , I lived in north Rodanthe for over 10 glorious years. Some of the best times of my life were spent there. Storms and shifting sands are a constant. The wind and waves, quite literally shape this place. And nothing stands in the way.

My good friend Joe Kierzkowski will usually give me a call when something of significance is happening. He got me at 4AM when the Bonner Bridge fell down in 1990. And this Sunday, at a more respectable hour, he phoned about a house that was beginning to lean into the ocean.

Denise and I got there just as high tide was peaking, and sure enough we were witnessing a big one ready to go down. The McMansion was built on a very dynamic beach only 5 or 6 years ago, complete with pool, jacuzzi and numerous other amenities. I wondered how many flat screen tv’s were inside. And here before our very eyes it’s all going into the ocean. Imagine that!

Every now and then, we could hear the sound of splitting lumber. At one point there was a loud crack when a wave hit. Then the building dropped to one side, another splitting sound and it leaned further. And finally dropping completely off the pilings, and resting on the beach…. all with 10 seconds.

Last night the building survived the following high tide, and is becoming quite a tourist attraction.

My Date with Tropical Storm Hanna

Like most residents of the Outer Banks, I keep an eye on tropical weather system development. This isn’t only due to to survival, but also because I relish these storms as photographic subjects. Recently, Hanna was no exception. Once again, we were fortunate to avoid a direct hit. My sister in Raleigh had more wind and rain than we did.

As the storm moved inland up into the piedmont region, we saw large seas and swirling clouds. Strong westerlies brought some minor flooding from the Pamlico Sound. By mid afternoon the skies brightened as my wife and I watched a dark band of rain move eastward over the ocean. The swells cleaned up, and remained strong. I went to work shooting beachscapes on Pea Island, accompanied by Denise.

Later that afternoon, the clouds and lighting conditions were setting up for another go. I returned to Pea Island for the end of the day. The ocean and sky were spectacular. After lots of exposures and experimenting with different shots that day, I felt pretty good.

Michael Halminski Photographer

Waves, North Carolina