Arthur’s Passing, the Video

Time looses meaning in the middle of a storm. I felt disoriented and way out of my norm.

Sleep was marginal. I got up several times to look out a window or check the barometer. The pressure dropped and winds accelerated, and for a brief time it fell out dramatically. Then it switched more westerly and picked up to hurricane force again, the Pamlico Sound rising 8 feet in what seemed only minutes.

I went to check on things, heading to the gallery door, in the lee of what seemed like a jet engine next to the house. Power lines were sparking like stars in the sky (upper left corner in video). The water came in very fast, bringing in a tide of vegetation and mud.

Click link below for video clip. It was shot at 4:45 not 5:30 as mentioned.

 

2014-07-04 04_45_30-2 – Medium

To be continued…

Jim Cantore Sighting

I’ve never had a 4th of July celebration quite like this year. It came with a big bang. Hurricane Arthur was a little too much, too soon. Winds began to really wail at around 2 in the morning, and by 4 or so they were approaching, possibly exceeding 100 mph. I drifted in and out of sleep, winds buffeting the roof over my head.

The wind fell out briefly then switched back to hurricane force, pushing the Pamlico Sound waters across our vulnerable village. My barometer read 978 millibars and gradually began to rise around 5:00 or so.

Midgett Way

At dawn Arthur revealed her wrath. It was a wind and storm surge flooding event, and I knew from experience this would make for an arduous clean up. I’ll continue this blog after I’ve had time to pick up the pieces and regain my composure.

broadcast

The day after the storm, Denise and I went to the Waves Market for a sandwich from their Deli. The Weather Channel was out front preparing for a broadcast. I spoke to an assistant as meteorologist Jim Cantore walked up to say hello. Denise came over and said she had placed our order at the Deli. Jim replied that he’d just eaten there and that “their sandwiches are phenomenal”. That’s an endorsement we agree with.

Cantori

We spoke of storm surges and flooding.  Cantore added that this time the hurricane’s speed of movement was our friend. I couldn’t agree more with him. It made the effects much less than it could have been.

To Be Continued…

 

New Spat in Town

A friend of mine once made the observation that tourists, hot weather and mosquitoes get here at about the same time each year. That acquaintance was John Gillikin of Buxton. He’s no longer with us, but you have to admit his tongue in cheek statement is pretty true. When I have more time, I’ll have to tell you a little bit about Gillikin. He was one of the more colorful characters of Hatteras Island and deserving of remembrance.

Getting back to this time of year when all those things happen, I need to throw in another item… new oysters. They’re called spat, and as the rising water temperatures of the sound hit around 70, oysters here begin to spawn. Male and female oysters emit sperm and egg into the water and wherever they meet, an eyed larvae is the result. It swims in search of substrate to attach and grow. Mortalities are high and those that find attachment, develop a shell and begin their life cycle as a true oyster.

Last week I found 8 new ones on my research tiles out in Pamlico Sound. About a half inch in size, they were just weeks old, perhaps 4 or 5. That was about the time the water temperature was spiking from the low 50’s in mid April to upper 70’s by the end of May.

spat                                                                                                                                   Oyster spat is set on substrate along with calcareous worm tubes.

tubes Similar spat information is collected by dozens of volunteers up and down the North Carolina coast, and goes into a research program with the Benthic Lab at UNCW.

There’s no doubt that we’re hitting our peak season. With plenty of vacationers, the heat and a few mosquitos, the oysters should be spawning for the while.

Indigo

Lately I find myself shooting close to home. There’s a lot of nature on my piece of the island, and I like it that way. Birds fly in to roost or feed in the trees. During migration you never know what will arrive.

About two weeks ago, there was a thump on the window, and I knew an unfortunate bird had flown into the reflection of deceiving glass. It’s a common problem.

I always want to help revive the victim unless the collision is fatal. Most of the time the birds are stunned and after a short respite, they’re able to fly off. This time I was blown away when the accident involved a male indigo bunting.

Preferring more inland habitat, they are rare in our seaside village, but not unheard of.

swirl The bunting was dazed and I set up a 105 micro nikkor for a few close ups.

beak Interestingly, I’ve read their plumage is really black, but because of the way the feathers are structured, they reflect as a brilliant blue in sunlight.

bunting Before long he came to and flew away.

Oregon Inlet

We hear a lot about Oregon Inlet, and the bridge spanning it. Nowadays you can hardly talk about one without mentioning the other. It’s nothing new and has been an issue for a long time.

When I first came here, driving over that beautifully curved bridge across the inlet was an awesome experience, the vistas remarkable. It was sort of an environmental work of art that served a purpose, getting to and from Hatteras Island. I would eventually learn that it was a bit more than that.

trawlers

In April of 1977, while driving to Nags Head, I watched 4 trawlers coming in through the well-marked channel. There was no traffic and I had just gone over the peak of the bridge. I stopped overlooking Bodie Island spit, got out and took one shot with a 400mm lens on a fairly new Nikon F2.

aerial

In January of 1985, we had a severe cold snap. Temperatures were low enough to freeze portions of the Pamlico Sound. I was so impressed that I hired a pilot to take me up and shoot the ice flows from above. We ascended to 7,000 feet, and the view was spectacular.

bailey boy

December of that same year, I was shooting a story on commercial fishing for Outer Banks Magazine. Arrangements were made for me to spend 3 days on a trawler from Wanchese, where Captain Terry Saunders welcomed me aboard the “Richard Wayne”. There were 2 days of fair weather, but when a northeaster set in on the third day, the boats decided to come in early. Crossing the bar at the mouth of the inlet was rough, and Captain Stevie Daniels maneuvered “Bailey Boy”  through, right behind us.

station

I flew during a northeaster in 1989 and made shots along Hatteras Island. There was no jetty in place at the inlet yet, and the Coast Guard Station was beginning to wash away. At the time, they were abandoning the station and moving to a newly built facility on the north side, next to the Oregon Inlet Fishing Center.

bridge

No recollections of Oregon Inlet would be complete without mentioning the October 1990 incident of a dredge taking out 400 feet of Bonner Bridge. I made this shot that December riding the ferry across the inlet when repairs were being made.

aerial '05

On an overcast September day in 2005, I went airborne with a videographer shooting a documentary on rising sea level. The section of the bridge that was taken out in 1990 is noticeable as a darker shade of gray in the pavement.

Irene

Hurricane Irene radically reshaped Oregon Inlet in 2011.

The only inlet on the east coast facing northeast, Oregon Inlet was originally formed in 1846. Since then, it has migrated over 2 miles south. Watching the area change and shift over the years continues to be fascinating. It’s a display of man’s engineering prowess in the face of some of nature’s most powerful forces. It’s also very expensive.