Category Archives: commercial fishing, boat, pamilco sound, gillnetting

Commercial Fishing

Moving here decades ago, introduced me to a culture of commercial fishing. It was a livelihood that captured my attention. I spent lots of time watching newfound friends hauling in their catch, sometimes prolific, many times not. I hung out at the creek where locals kept their boats and packed fish. It became a passion for my photography.

Old wooden boats had beautiful lines, particularly the traditional shad boats, like these in the background of this 1985 photograph. I noticed the wooden workboats were being replaced by ones built of fiberglass.

Shooting this 1980 image, I was especially taken by four shad boats tied up at the Beasley fish house in Colington. I would see them frequently long hauling Pamlico Sound at Rodanthe. Originally designed to use sail power, most had been converted to using gasoline engines.

I revisited that same fish house two weeks ago. The shad boats were gone, the building in disrepair. Some fishing was still apparent but it was not the same. For me, the scene symbolized the decline of independent commercial fishing enterprises, and made me sad.

 

Looking Back

Nearly a lifetime ago I began searching for a better way of life. Out of school and more on my own, I was content, but the suburbs of DC was not where I wanted to be. Surfing had given me a taste of Hatteras Island and after some trips there, I was inextricably drawn back to the island. It was uncrowded, relatively undeveloped, and there were waves. An extended visit of 6 months turned into 50 years. Where did that time go? 

All along the way, I nurtured an interest in photography. I loved the environment, and culture. Before long those things embraced me and wouldn’t let go.

Nowadays I spend time evaluating and organizing what I’ve done as a photographer. There are lots of images… too many count.

A recent job got me digging in, editing and printing for a permanent display in our neighborhood Community Building. I made a photograph of some of those finished prints on my work table to see how they looked. Collectively it’s a record of the past. Documenting history was never my intent as I shot the surroundings, but time passing made it that way. 

I’m grateful for what the island has given me, the experience of finding my niche, and encountering a colorful cast of characters. It’s been a great run!

Soundside

My house sits on acreage bordering the Pamlico Sound. Much of it is salt marsh that blends into slightly elevated land with natural vegetation, including live oak, red cedar and yaupon holly. I built a home here and have lived on the property for 37 years.

The land was part of the Clarence E. Midgett estate and I have Midgett family members living all around me.

I’ve enjoyed this natural setting and history. Early on I admired a nearby grave. Banister Midyett’s headstone stands just a few feet over my north property line. He was born February 26, 1786 and died May 31, 1841 at the of age 55. He reportedly fathered 18 children. The name of Midgett has morphed into different spellings throughout history, but they all seem to be related. They must have been among the first Europeans to settle Hatteras Island as shipwreck survivors.

Another artifact close to my home is a disintegrating wooden skiff, tangled in overgrowth. There would be some captivating stories if it could talk. It likely belonged to I D Midgett, who passed recently at 92 years. He was a quintessential Hatterasman, making a living on the water as a ferry boat captain and commercial fisherman.

I D’s family built this structure to store fishing gear and as a place to bring in the daily catch. The past few years however, it’s seen very little use. As a local livelihood, commercial fishing has become an anachronism.

 

 

 

Avon Harbor

Local commercial fishing operations on Hatteras have always fascinated me. It’s the old school work ethic of harvesting from the sea that draws me in. Working on the water has been a cultural mainstay here for generations.

In 1996 I bought a Pentax medium format camera system. Using black and white or color negative film, the results surpassed 35mm work in the quality and sharpness of my darkroom prints.

That same year, I shot Avon Harbor when it still had a working waterfront.

Today most of that has nearly all disappeared.

Pound Nets

A pound net is a fish trap that corrals fish into a pen where they are kept alive. They swim in the enclosure until they can be bailed out. In 1977 some commercial fishing friends of mine were setting up a pound net. 

Eddie O’Neal, Ed Corley and Asa Gray were partners in this venture. They worked under the name Easy Money Fish Company, and constructed their net in an area of the Pamlico Sound, known as Scott’s Reef. 

On a calm day, I rode out with Ed to check it out. They weren’t catching much at the time, but I photographed the basic layout shooting Panatomic-X, a fine grained black and white film.

The fish follow a portion of the net called a lead, which channels them into a pound where they cannot escape.

They’re penned in until the fishermen come to get them. Any unwanted or protected species are then released alive into open waters. Despite the labor intensive work to set up, a pound net is an efficient way to catch fish.

Thirty-five years later I photographed another net near Ocracoke Island. With commercial fishing getting to be a more difficult livelihood, there doesn’t seem to be as many as there used to be.

Years ago, Eddie O’Neal (1982) and Ed Corley (1985) died in separate weather-related commercial fishing incidents. Asa Gray passed away in 2018 after many decades as a waterman. How those guys loved to fish!