Sign of Spring

On Hatteras, we have our expected signs of Spring. Snapping turtles emerge from the marsh, new plant growth sprouts, birds and fish migrating, not to mention the unstable weather changes taking place. But now as the Outer Banks becomes much more popular, another aspect has been added in the past several years…… bike week. The last one just ended this Easter.

I’m referring to motorcycles. In my formative years, motorcycles meant gangs, hell raisers, independent spirits and outcasts. I loved seeing them from our family car riding by. Something in my imagination wanted to be like Marlon Brando in The Wild Ones.

Bikers today are a completely different breed. They are more of a cross section of society. Doctors, lawyers, construction workers, and who knows what else comprise bikers of the new age. And I think some of the outcasts are even still there.

A year ago during bike week, I had a chance to ride the ferry to Ocracoke with a load of bikers, and it made for a fun photo op.

I hope you enjoyed the free ferry ride…

The Mojon

Harry Midgett was Irvin’s father. He was one of those locals that had the ocean in his blood. He was a commercial fisherman as long as I knew him. I remember him mostly through his boat called the Mojon.

Mojon sat at the creek in Rodanthe for two or three years. If he wasn’t out fishing in the sound, he was working on that old wooden trawler. I was fascinated with the array of fishing gear, lines, outriggers and nets. To my eye, the equipment looked chaotic. But to the fisherman that used it, each piece had a function, and putting it in order could turn chaos into a livelihood.

Irvin and Robin on Mojon at the Rodanthe Creek, 1977.

The deck of Mojon shot with my large format camera.

This shot was taken looking south, through the rigging of Mojon at the Rodanthe Creek. Collins and Belton Gray’s longhaul boats sit rafted across the harbor.

Harry Midgett in 1977.

Harry moved Mojon from Rodanthe to Ocracoke. He was down there shrimping. The boat was tied up at the Park Service docks. My recollection is that the dockage was free for two weeks at a time. At the end of that time, he’d untie her and depart for sea. Then he returned, and tied up for a couple more weeks. He and Mojon were quite a hit with tourists looking for some local color.

Harry eventually took Mojon into the Gulf of Mexico were he continued to fish until his passing 15 or so years ago.

Home Boys

Back in the seventies there was hardly anybody surfing the waves of Rodanthe. Nearly everyone coming to Hatteras Island to surf, drove right through Rodanthe, Waves and Salvo, and continued straight to the jetty at the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse. The waves at the lighthouse were refined and legendary. So it was a the premier, sought-after surf spot.

The waves of the tri-village area however, were mostly overlooked by the masses, so naturally they were less crowded. It became my home, and I began to surf with the locals that grew up there.

Back then, Asa Gray was one of the locals, and was still in high school. Known as “Buddy”, he also worked as a commercial fisherman. Being big in stature, his surfing was powerful, and he went for it. He knew the water, and was fearless, even in the big, crunchy shorebreak which has now made Rodanthe so popular on the surfing scene. Buddy doesn’t surf any more, but is still actively fishing and running his campground.

Buddy Gray on a nice right at the Salvo Shipwreck back around 1974.

Asa’s powerful style is seen in this backside off the lip at S-Curve in 1978.

Irvin Midgett was a home boy that surfed, and also a commercial fisherman. He was a smaller guy, but had a go-for-it style in the waves. He still surfs as a goofey foot, which means he’s a lefty. Irvin contnues fishing, and coincidentally also runs his own campground.

Irvin riding his Plastic Fantastic in 1977.

Irvin Midgett riding high on a nice glassy face just north of the Rodanthe pier.

more Home Boys later….

After the Blizzard

It’s amazing how snow changes this landscape. It usually doesn’t stay around long either. Now as I write this 4 days later, any remnant of snow is completely gone. Other than during the blizzard itself, there was only one day to photograph it, before most of it had melted.This is the view looking north from Ramp 23, south of Salvo. We had just dug a friend’s car out of the snow, only to find others getting stuck out on the beach. We yanked a big jacked up Tundra, that was buried to the axles in snow and soft sand.

The marsh behind my house became a winter wonderland.

The water temperature in Pamlico Sound dropped to 28, leaving a 6 inch layer of slush ice on the surface.

Meet Hairy. He’s 9 months old. This was his first snow.

As the sun began to set, I ventured out to finish my snow shots.

FINI….

White Out

Visitors to my Outer Banks studio frequently ask about snowfall at the beach. I tell them that it’s not unusual to have a significant snow event every 5 or 6 years. I’ve seen as much as a foot at a time, and it’s frequently accompanied by high winds. Our last big snow was in 2003, so the blizzard that we just experienced on Saturday came in timely fashion.

The local forecast was for us to expect 1 to 2 inches, but once it began to fall and thicken, I had a feeling that it would probably be more. Of course, my agenda then turns to making photographs during that time, but during white out, gale force conditions, it’s not so easy to see what you are shooting.