The Liberty Memorial

Last year when Denise and I visited relatives in Kansas City, Missouri, we were treated with a great tour of downtown. There were so many interesting things to do and see.

One of the finest museums that I’ve ever visited is prominent in the landscape. The National World War I Museum was opened in 1926 and features a 265 foot stone spire as a tribute to those that served in the First World War.

One can spend days, weeks or longer going through the complex. Our second day visit was on a rainy morning and as we went in, I was attracted by the glass ceiling over the lobby entrance, so I went back out in the drizzle and made two exposures over the wet glass panels. One was vertical and another horizontal. They were quick, handheld shots with my current camera of choice, a Lumix mirrorless body with interchangeable lenses.

One of the most prestigious local art shows here is the annual Frank Stick Memorial Art Show hosted by the Dare County Arts Council. It began 41 years ago and I’ve entered a piece in nearly every one.

This year I decided to print the above mentioned photograph and apply an age old photo technique. I remembered experimenting with solarized prints in my darkroom around 1980 and the results were usually surreal and unpredictable.

Tones are often reversed resembling a negative. Photoshop made this easy to accomplish and turned a drab day into one looming and dramatic. I entered a 16×20 print and was given an Excellence Award. There were over a hundred entries and ribbons for me have been rare in this venue.

This year’s show was poignant in that it was dedicated to my friend and prolific Nags Head artist Glenn Eure who passed away last September at the age of 86. He was a well-known and gifted artist. A Purple Heart recipient, he served combat tours in Korea and Viet Nam. I think he would have liked my print entitled TRIBUTE IN KC.

The inscription on the monument reads: IN HONOR OF THOSE THAT SERVED IN THE WORLD WAR IN DEFENSE OF LIBERTY AND OUR COUNTRY

Forty One on the Outer Banks

Recently I read how George Bush, as a young Navy pilot, would see the Hatteras lighthouse from the air during flight school training out of Norfolk.

It made me recall our forty-first president returning years later as a visitor in 1997, then in 1998 for the rededication of the Wright Brothers Monument.

In the Fall of 97 I had a chance to meet him fishing at Harkers Island. The Core Sound is a fisherman’s paradise and President Bush arranged to go with Sam Sellars, a guide who would take him fly fishing for false albacore.

Before getting underway, Sam demonstrated some new tackle for the former president.

After an hour of tedious casting, the president finally hooked up near the Cape Lookout Lighthouse.

Of course, Sam and the president were elated when he boated a nice one, and released it.

The weather deteriorated with some passing rain squalls, but the president still managed to pull in a few more. At one point he noticed a styrofoam cup floating by and directed Sam toward it. President Bush then leaned over and plucked it from the water. That little gesture really impressed me.

The following May, President Bush flew in to Manteo Airport and was greeted by local resident Andy Griffith and his wife Cindy. I was given the responsibility to take pictures for the First Flight Commision, and rode with them to the Wright Brothers Monument for the rededication ceremony.

There were other dignitaries present, including our State Senator Marc Basnight.

Senator Basnight and astronaut Buzz Aldrin were seated together on stage as speakers addressed a large audience.

The highlight was hearing President George H. W. Bush deliver the keynote speech.

The event culminated with relighting the beacon atop the monument and a spectacular fireworks display. It was the first time the beacon was shown bright since being cut off during the Second World War.

Dogs Gone Fishing

One of the best things one can experience is companionship. As pets, dogs are cherished and devoted to their owners. Years ago when I became associated with locals that fished commercially, I noticed a number of them taking dogs out on the water.

The harbor at Rodanthe was a pretty busy place back then. There were gill-netters, crabbers and long haulers working out of that spot, better known locally as The Creek. In the Summer of 1980, brothers Collins and Belton Gray ran their long haul rig out of Rodanthe. In this photo Belton, Sr and son Belton, Jr contemplate after packing out their day’s catch. I don’t recall the name of their black lab standing on the bow.

Dale Midgett ran the fish house and packed out the daily catches for Jimmy Austin Seafood Company with his loyal companion, Titus.

Another fishing friend of mine was Roger Woolyhan. He worked out of The Creek and had just begun a career in commercial fishing after moving here from Delaware in the 70’s. He bought an old wooden skiff and learned to hang his nets. I went fishing with him a number of times and got one of my favorite shots in Spring of 1977.

His female black lab was named Moose. She went everywhere with him fishing, surfing or shopping. It made no difference to her, as long as she was close.

By 1987 after I had finished building my home in Waves, a regular visitor was a young boy named Brian Midgett. He and his extended family lived on property adjacent to mine, and still do. My Chesapeake Bay Retriver named Boca loved Brian and they frequently played in the creek behind his grandparents’ place. Boca always wanted to be in the water.

Boca was a big, beautiful Chessie and I took him whenever I foraged the sound for oysters. When he found a terrapin trapped in this abandoned crab pot, we released the poor struggling critter.

Another creek in Salvo belonged to Burgess Hooper. He was born, raised and fished there all his life. With his wife Zanovah, they owned property and rental units. I used to help him on maintenance and building projects. We were pretty close and he loved his canine companion, Princess. She fished with him every time he went out on the Pamlico Sound.

Burgess was an old school Hatterasman and still fished with traditional cotton nets.

Princess anticipating catches from the bow, had sea legs. She was truly a man’s best friend… unconditionally!

Two Storms One Tide

As Florence changed course and battered other portions of North Carolina, many here thought that we’d escaped its power. In the meantime, torrential rain flooded inland rivers that would eventually feed into the sounds along the coast.

For the three weeks after Florence, I noticed a salinity drop and a higher tide level in Pamlico Sound behind my house. In fact it was 2 feet higher than normal, and stayed that way as Hurricane Michael steamed into the gulf coast of Florida.

When Michael’s path steered more to the west with winds of about 50, our prospects were looking better, although I recalled other storms taking a similar course, pushing the sound waters eastward. I expected tide so prepared for some rise. By eight o’clock on the night of the 11th the wind began shifting southwest and picking up. My barometer read 990 millibars and then the water began coming in. It rose until after midnight, and was 3 feet deep in the yard. Then as fast as it came up, it receded by early morning.

My house has another water line notch on it.

By sunup most of the water had drained off, but Route 12 still had issues with standing water.

Driving through it is hazardous to your vehicle’s health.

Driving through the tide is even worse when you navigate on the deeper side of the road at a higher rate of speed. That was a nice new truck!

The stories of stranded and flooded vehicles were numerous. To compound matters there was no evacuation order. The campgrounds were a mess. Flotsam and jetsam were everywhere within the water’s reach.

Cisterns next to my house have waterlines to show the flood depth. Being filled with fresh water, they tend to float as the more dense seawater gets deeper. The tank on the right was only three quarters full and came up a foot off the ground.

By my count, this was the 4th highest tide that I’ve seen here in 45 years. It was 32 inches below Irene, our highest with a ten foot storm surge. Right in between at 16 inches below Irene, there’s Arthur 2014 and the March storm of 93.

I’m always amazed at the resiliency of the salt marsh, particularly after a flood.

A rack line of debris shows forces at work. In six months it will be completely decomposed with tall thriving marsh grasses in its place.

The wetland looks healthier for it and flourishes come drought or high water. This section is composed of mostly black needle rush, sometimes called juncus grass. In adverse conditions it provides great shoreline protection for my property. It’s also a desirable habitat for clapper rails and seaside sparrows.

About the size of a dime, the marsh aster is still beautiful after being inundated with wind, waves and sea water.

Florence

A week ago I sat at the Tiki-Ti bar in Los Angeles watching a bartender making tropical drinks, like Hurricanes.

Today I’m sitting in my house in the fringes of Hurricane Florence. What a difference. Real hurricanes spawn emotions like no other. Preparation is tedious and keeping updated on the storm essential. But at some point one must cross the line of either staying or evacuating. It’s a serious decision to make. Based on all the information I could process on Florence, I decided to stay.

Yesterday was gorgeous with big puffy clouds and building surf.

Today is much different as weather rapidly deteriorates.

Highway 12 has no traffic and almost everyone’s gone.

At noon the eye of Florence was right below Cape Hatteras and moving in on Wilmington.

By the end of the day, strong winds from the east had lowered the Pamlico Sound behind my place by about 4 feet.

Overnight was wet and windy, though not extremely so. Barometric pressure never went below 1008 millibars. The bullet dodged us. Next morning the first place to look is Rodanthe Pier. It always was the go-to spot and still is. I hope this isn’t last legs for our local hangout. It’s a constant maintenance pit.