Back at the Stix & Brix Home

Sunday, 24 April

We arrived from the OBX to our stix and brix home yesterday. Our projected 6-7 hours on the road turned into 10 hours of at times stop-and-go, stop-and-go driving, so I was in no mood to turn on the computer and post to the blog when we finally pulled into the driveway around 7:30p.

The drive was uneventful; it was the traffic that threw a wrench into our day. There was quite a bit of it from the moment we left the campground, but at least it was moving. Then, shortly after we hit I-64W, our trucker’s GPS sounded a heavy traffic alert and re-routed us to Route 460W. No problem; it added length to our trip, but again, the traffic was moving. All was going well until we hit I-95. This highway always has major traffic congestions unless you’re driving against traffic. Yesterday was no exception. The GPS once again sounded a heavy traffic warning, but once committed to I-95N, there were no good alternatives until we reached the junction and jumped onto Route 1 near Fredericksburg. It seemed to take us forever to get through the first couple of miles through the city, but after that it was smooth sailing with 55 mph (88 kph) speeds to our final turn-off onto SR 234N.

The red lines show our detours, which added about 20 miles to our original routing.

Lesson learned. If our travels include I-95 in the future, we won’t dally at the campground; we’ll leave early, early, early. Normally, we do that anyway, but knowing that a particularly hectic month of May is ahead of us, we found it difficult to leave the relaxing pace of our vacation behind.

Before putting the Phaeton to bed at the storage lot, we topped off the diesel at Fannon Petroleum Services. Their price of $3.94/gallon had not changed from the time we last filled up on 10 April, and was a heck of a lot better than the prices we saw in the OBX (ranging from $4.05 to $4.19). We ended up buying 72 gallons, which means we got 8.75 miles to the gallon on this trip. Not bad for a 40-foot beast with a toad following closely on its heels … (or should that be wheels).

As promised, I will be posting separate entries with photos of the places we explored. But as noted above, the days ahead promise to be quite hectic, so the blog entries may be a bit slow in coming. Have patience please :-) …

A Quiet Day Leads to “Nights in Rodanthe”

Friday, 22 April

It was another beautiful day in the OBX even if the temperature was on the cool side. We woke up to a breezy 54F (12C), and it stayed around that range throughout the day. At least the skies were blue and filled with sunshine.

Around 7:00a, we went for a 5-mile (8 km) stroll on the beach fronting the campground. When we set out on our walk, the beach was completely deserted. It was too early even for the birds that we usually see scavenging for tidbits in the sand. By the time we returned to the coach around 8:30a, we had company on the beach – mostly anglers casting their lines into the wickedly churning ocean … the roughest we’ve seen since our arrival a week ago.

The shoreline is trimmed with sea foam.

I was curious about all the sea foam we were seeing today, so when we returned to the coach, I did a bit of research. Here’s an excerpt from a Q&A that was published in The New York Times:

… “Like a bathtub full of bubbles, sea foam needs two ingredients,” said Dr. Elizabeth L. Venrick, a marine ecologist at the Scripps Institution of Oceanography in La Jolla, Calif., “something to decrease the surface tension of the water, like bubble bath, and something to froth it up, like water running into the tub.”

In the ocean, the “bubble bath” is usually dissolved organic material, she said, and strong surface winds or the breaking of waves on the beach stir up the water with air to make bubbles.

“The organic material comes from a number of sources, usually a concentration of biomass, like the phytoplankton bloom that causes red tide or a fish kill,” Dr. Venrick said. (A bloom is an increase in the numbers of some species or complex of species that then die or are eaten, releasing organic material.) The material can also come from sewer spills and other terrestrial runoff, she said.

In addition, there are a number of mechanisms that concentrate the foam, which is commonly blown up on the beach, for example. …

It's not just sea foam that the waves have brought ashore.

The main reason our walk was so long this morning was because I wanted to reach the Chicamacomico Life-Saving Station from the beach side to capture the buildings in the soft, morning light. Since there is an admission charged for the museum, I respected the no trespassing signs and still managed to get a couple of decent photos.

The buildings in the photo on the upper right are (from L to R): The 1911 Station;
the 1874 Station; the 1892 Cook House; and the 1907 Midgett House.

A quick note about the “wreck pole” in the pictures, it was used by the crew to hone their skills for the “Breeches Buoy” rescue. More on that when I post a separate entry about Chicamacomico.

The anglers are out to try their luck.

We debated going sightseeing after breakfast, but decided once again to stay home and relax. That turned out to be the right decision. Because we were at home, we were able to receive some documents that required our signature and fax them back without delay. Ain’t technology great! Of course, dealing with the paperwork meant cutting our afternoon stroll on the beach short, but as hard as the wind was blowing, that was probably for the best anyway.

A lone windsurfer and ...

... a slew of kite flyers take advantage of the strong winds.

Overall, it was a quiet day at home. The one time we ventured out was to get a treat from the only place serving hand dipped ice cream that has opened its doors for pre-season visitors. The place is next door to the campground, so we decided to walk over there. Along the way, however, we were given a tip that changed our plans. Mui grabbed the car and we drove the short distance to get pictures of Serendipity … better known as the Inn at Rodanthe. Yes, the same place featured in Nights in Rodanthe, the movie starring Richard Gere and Diane Lane.

made famous by a movie, I imagine this place is quite popular as a vacation rental.

Scenes from Nights in Rodanthe.
[photos courtesy of various sites on the web]

Serendipity was damaged by an honest-to-goodness storm in the summer of 2008 and was later condemned. In 2010, the property was saved from the wrecking ball. It was moved to a location a little further inland and restored by the new owners. (Center top photo shows the house the day that it was moved.)

If you haven’t seen it, Nights in Rodanthe is a nice romantic movie (perhaps a bit of a tear-jerker, too) … perfect for date night.

By the way … a bit of personal trivia. Rodanthe is the second place we’ve been to where there is a connection to Richard Gere. Coincidentally, we were on another camping trip … of a much different kind (don’t laugh when you see the pictures in the link provided) … when we visited the first place. Click here to read about our “blast from the past” from Fort Worden State Park where scenes for An Officer and a Gentleman were filmed.

And so, our vacation comes to a close. We drive home tomorrow, catch up on stix and brix chores on Sunday, and go back to work on Monday. We had a great time here in the OBX. We enjoyed exploring places of historic significance and strolling on a very small portion of the more than 70 miles (112+ km) of beaches that is the Cape Hatteras National Seashore. We look forward to someday returning here (in the off-season, of course) to visit the wildlife refuges and everything else we missed this time around.

Word of caution to future visitors … especially those driving relatively high-profile vehicles. Drive carefully and be aware of wildlife … feathered and furred. We’ve seen more dead birds and other unidentifiable creatures on and alongside the roads here than we have anywhere else in our travels. In particular, gulls and pelicans fly at near-vehicle levels around the bridge into (and out of) Pea Island National Wildlife Refuge. Bear in mind that we’re visitors to the land these creatures call home.

In the Spotlight: Before the Coasties ...

21 April 2011

... there were the Surfmen of the US Life-Saving Service.  We learned about these valiant men and the amazing rescues they were involved in during our afternoon visit to the Chicamacomico Life-Saving Station Historic Site and Museum.

Located in Rodanthe, just over a mile from Camp Hatteras, the site was close enough to walk to, but with the potential for rain in the air, we decided to drive.  After all, who wants to be loaded down with camera equipment and be caught in a deluge?  Not us!

As it turns out, the weather held off, except for a light drizzle.  By timing our visits to the buildings carefully, we managed to scamper from one to the other without getting wet.

We were greeted warmly by the docents at the front desk of the station-turned-museum.  When Mui showed them his USAF ID, they generously gave us the group rate of $5/person ($1/person discount).  The program of the day is included in the admission price, but since they are conducted during the summer months, we made do with a video documenting the history of Chicamacomico and then moved on to a self-guided tour.

illustration of the chicamacomico historic site and museum grounds (A) 1874 Station (B) Wreck Pole (C) 1892 Cook House (D) 1907 Midgett House (E) 1911 Cook House (F) 1911 Station (G) Stable (H) Tractor Shed (I) Small Boathouse [scanned from the museum brochure]

The US Life-Saving Service (USLSS) was founded in 1871 and was managed by the US Treasury Department.  Local men were hired and trained for one primary task: to rescue those in peril from the sea.  Their mission is underscored by the surfman’s motto as stated by a station keeper:

The book says ya gotta go out; it don’t say nothin’ ‘bout coming back!

In 1915, the USLSS merged with the US Revenue Cutter Service to form today's US Coast Guard.

Historic photographs from around the museum.

Left (top to bottom): the breeches buoy was used as late as the 1954 omar babun rescue. the 1874 station with the keeper on the far left; these stations also served as community centers and it was not uncommon to find locals visiting. the wreck of the captain john duke.

right (top to Bottom): the surfboat landing with shipwreck survivors; note the cork life jackets worn by the men. Cape Hatteras was dangerous for sailing ships, yet ships sailed near to get around the cape and to use the lighthouse as a landmark for the quickest route north or south.

Built in 1874, Chicamacomico was the first USLSS station in North Carolina.  It remained in service until it was decommissioned in 1954.  The name comes from the Algonquian family of languages and means, quite appropriately, “land of disappearing sands.”  (Best pronunciation guide I can find … Chic-a-ma-COM-i-co.)

The Chicamacomico Life-Saving Station Historic Site and Museum as seen from the beach.
Left to Right: The 1911 Station; the 1874 Station; the 1892 Cook House and water tank;
the 1907 Midgett House.
[taken the next morning; hence the clear, blue sky.]

We started our tour in the 1911 Station, which replaced the smaller 1874 station.  The building, which contains the majority of the exhibits, is still on its original foundation.  Although the station was designed for no more than 10 men, over 40 were stationed here during WWII.  Having been inside, cramped would be an understatement in describing the conditions at that time.

The 1911 Station with the Cook House to the right.  the bell is not original to the site;
it was removed and brought here from the Chesapeake Bay.

Before moving on from this building, we climbed the ship’s ladder from the second floor up to the tower.  A second story was added inside the tower to ensure that both the Atlantic Ocean and Pamlico Sound could be monitored.  A surfman was on watch 24/7, rotating in 4-hour shifts.  Nothing but binoculars, a chart book, and a podium-type desk was allowed in the tower.  In other words, nothing to distract the men from charting the safe passage of vessels traveling up and down the coast, and remaining alert to ships that might be in distress.

The steep ladder leads into the tower from which we can see the 1874 Station,
the 1892 Cook House, and beach homes overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.

Our second stop was at the 1907 Midgett House, which was brought to the site in 2005.  It was originally owned by the brother of Keeper John Allen Midgett Jr., one of several keepers that shared the surname.

Furnished with items appropriate to the period, the 1907 Midgett House is intended to
interpret daily life on Hatteras Island in the early 1900s.

A peek into life in the early 1900s.

Next we walked through the 1874 Station, which was converted to a boathouse in 1919.  The building has been moved five times; its original location is now under water.  Inside we found some fascinating rescue equipment, as well as Surfboat No. 1046, which was used in 1918 to rescue 42 people from the Mirlo, a British tanker that was torpedoed off shore.  (Rescue account here.)

The Gothic style 1874 Station and the wreck pole in the distance.

On the side facing the Atlantic Ocean, the 1874 station looks more like a boathouse.
In the open doorway, you can see a glimpse of Surfboat No. 1406.  Immediately to the
right is the 1892 cook house and water tank, and next to that is the 1907 Midgett house.

Left: Life Cars were used to rescue people from a wreck.
Right (Bottom): surfboat No. 1406 was used to rescue survivors from the mirlo.

(For those interested in how the life car worked [from signage at the museum]: it was hung unto the hawser [thick, heavy line] and sent to the wrecked ship.  Crew and passengers would climb into the hold, seal the hatch, and be hauled to shore by the surfmen.  Even after the breeches buoy was adopted, stations retained their life cars in the event a ship had an injured crewman or small children aboard.  Up to seven adults could fit into the life car.)

Have you heard of the breeches buoy rescue?  We had not until we visited Chicamacomico.  We were fascinated by what was described in the signage as a British-style rescue method.  The way I understand it, a Lyle gun was used to send a hawser from the shore to the wreck.  A wreck victim would then jump into the ‘breeches’, and suspended in the air, he would be pulled ashore by a pulley-block system.  Once ashore, the victim would ‘jump out of his breeches’, and the buoy would be sent back out to the ship to rescue another person.

Breeches Buoy Rescue Equipment with a photo of a mock-up showing how the rescue worked.

From the 1874 station we strolled over to the wreck pole at the far edge of the property.  The pole, which simulates the mast of a ship, was used by the station crew to hone their breeches buoy rescue skills.  They were allotted five minutes to have all their equipment in place and “rescue” a practice victim, usually a fellow surfman.  Sure, the beach cart was on wheels, but can you imagine how difficult it must have been to roll it through the sand to get it positioned before they could shoot the gun?

Collage of images showing the wreck pole and illustrations of how the breeches  buoy
setup was used in shipwreck rescues.  During the summer months, the US Coast Guard conducts
breeches buoy rescue drills at the station.  The photo in the bottom right
shows the drill team from Oregon Inlet.

It was due to the intense training the surfmen did at poles like this one that the USLSS
was able to come to the aid of 177,286 of 178,741 endangered souls.

We stand in awe of the men (and women) who put their lives at risk to save others from the perils of the sea — then and now.

If you’d like to see the full-size versions of the photos used in the collages, visit our online gallery.

In the Spotlight: Lighthouses of the OBX

April 2011

We love to visit lighthouses. Whenever the opportunity presents itself, we seek out these beacons that are designed to guide seafarers safely through treacherous waters. We may not always climb to the top, but we certainly always enjoy them from the ground.

During this trip, we had the opportunity to see not one, but four lighthouses. Actually, we saw five, but I posted about the one in Manteo in a separate post already. (See the map to the right for the locations of the four lighthouses of the OBX.)

I could use my own words to summarize the information I gleaned from guidebooks and pamphlets we picked up during our week-long stay in the OBX. But why? The Insiders’ Guide: North Carolina’s Outer Banks has already done the job for me, so I’ll quote from the guide instead. (Let’s face it, I can use all the help I can get. I’m way behind on these posts and I need to get them done before our upcoming non-motorhome vacation in July.)

More than a dozen ships a day carried cargo and crew along Outer Banks waterways by the dawn of the 19th century. Schooners, sloops, sailboats, and new steamers all journeyed around the sounds and across the oceans, often dangerously close to the coast, in search of the ever-shifting and shoaling inlets.

At that time waterways were the country’s primary highways, and North Carolina’s barrier islands were part of most eastern routes.

The lighthouse at Cape Hatteras was one of the first OBX Beacons to be authorized.
today’s lighthouse is the third one to be illuminated on the original site;
more than 1,000,000 bricks were used in its construction.

Hurricanes and nor’easters took many boats by surprise, ending their voyages and hundreds of lives. Alexander Hamilton dubbed the ocean off the barrier islands “the Graveyard of the Atlantic” because its shoals became the burying grounds for so many ships. In an attempt to help seamen navigate the treacherous shoals, the federal government authorized the Banks’ first lighthouses in 1794: one at Cape Hatteras in the fishing village of Buxton and the other in Ocracoke’s harbor, on a half-mile-long, 60-mile wide pile of oyster shells dubbed Shell Castle Island. Shell Castle Lighthouse first illuminated the Atlantic in 1798. The Cape Hatteras beacon was finally erected in 1802. Two subsequent structures have sat on the same Buxton spot, but the Shell Castle beacon has long since succumbed to the sea.

The historic double keeper's quarters (assistant keepers' house; on the left) and the
principal keeper's house (on the right) were moved when the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse
was moved inland to its present-day location.

Ship captains complained that the early lighthouses were unreliable and too dim. Vessels continued to smash into the shoals. So in 1823 the federal government financed a 65-foot-high lighthouse on Ocracoke Island. Whitewashed with a glass tower set slightly askew on its top, it is the oldest (**) lighthouse still standing in North Carolina.

[** Signage at the lighthouse identified it as the second oldest in the state.]

Ocracoke lighthouse survived the Civil War with minimal damage. Confederate troops dismantled
the fourth-order Fresnel lens early on, but in 1864 Union forces re-installed it.
According to the recently uncovered original directive, the lighthouse was to have been painted
in alternating bands of red and white. The keeper's house is now a private residence

Officials raised the Cape Hatteras tower to 150 feet in 1854. Five years later two new Outer Banks beacons were built, at Cape Lookout and on Bodie Island, both of which were improved and rebuilt in later years.

On December 16, 1870 the third lighthouse at Cape Hatteras was illuminated. Standing 208 feet tall and using a multifaceted lens to refract its beam across miles of sea, this spiral striped structure is the tallest brick lighthouse in the world.

Pronounced “body,” bodie island lighthouse is closed for restoration.
Unfortunately all work has come to a screeching halt, we were told, due to lack of funds.
Whether funding will be provided in the 2012 fiscal year budget for the National Park Service is TBD.

the Lighthouse is more than ½-mile from the sea; it sits in the middle of a marsh teeming with birdlife.

Currituck Beach’s red brick beacon was the last major lighthouse to be built on the barrier island beaches. The 150-foot tower was completed in 1875. It watches over the Whalehead Club, near the western shores of Corolla. It is the only unpainted lighthouse on the Outer Banks.

Currituck Beach Lighthouse is the northernmost beacon on the OBX.

Glimpse of the lighthouse from the Whalehead Club (on the grounds of Currituck Heritage Park).

You might have noticed that each of the lighthouses featured here have a different paint scheme. This was done to help seafarers identify the beacons as they sailed along the coast. Another means for identifying the lighthouses was the cycle of the light — some were steady, others blinked on and off at different, pre-specified intervals.

Our intent on this trip was to climb the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse. Bad planning on our part. We should have climbed Currituck when we had the chance; it was the first one we visited and there was no waiting to climb the 214 steps to the top. It turns out that Ocracoke was not open for climbing; the lines at Cape Hatteras were way too long (busloads of school kids on spring break); and of course, Bodie was closed for renovations. Oh well; we’ll have other opportunities to get up close and personal with the guiding lights that shine out into the inky darkness of night.

Before I end this post … an interesting aspect of the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse (aka America’s Lighthouse) is that it no longer stands where it was built. In 1999, to save the lighthouse from the encroaching sea, the beacon was moved 1,600 feet (488 m) inland to a position that puts it at the same distance it was to the sea when it was built in 1870. While at the lighthouse, we watched an interesting video documenting the move. What an achievement. A job well done.

The old sea wall near the original site of the Cape Hatteras lighthouse.

The original location, now 120 feet (37 m) from the water, is marked by a ring of granite foundation
blocks. the names of the 83 keepers who served at the lighthouse are engraved on the blocks.

From here to there … and a B&W look at today's lighthouse from where it once stood on the beach
(the historic photo inset was downloaded from the NPS website).

For more photographs of the lighthouses of the OBX, visit my online gallery here.

At Home in the OBX

Thursday, April 21

The weather forecasters were mostly wrong today.  There was no sign of the thunderstorms that they said would plague us all day.  Instead, we woke up to a pale sunrise that turned into blue skies with filmy white clouds.  At 7:00a, the temperature was 71F (21.5C).  Nice!  We debated exploring another part of the OBX, but that thought lasted just a few seconds.  In the end, we stayed home (for most of the day) and enjoyed our mobile beach house.

After breakfast, we went for a 2.5-mile (4 km) stroll on the beach fronting the campground.  There was barely a hint of breeze when we started out towards the Rodanthe Pier.  I was surprised at how few people were out on the beach at 8:30a … their loss.

Mui and a Laughing Gull have the same idea … to enjoy a gorgeous morning.

Left: I practice my “shooting into the sun skills.”
Right: Ephemeral footprints … it takes just one wave to wash them away.

A touch of color.

A deserted beach is my favorite kind of beach.

A willet roams the beach in search of something to nibble on.

Rodanthe Pier ... $10 to fish; $1 to walk ... we enjoyed it from a distance.

gifts from the sea … Mermaid’s Purse and Shells.
(A mermaid’s purse, also called devil’s purse, is a casing that surrounds the fertilized
eggs of some sharks, skates, and chimaeras.  The casings that wash up on beaches are
usually empty, the young fish having already hatched out.)

It took a minute or two for territorial rights to be established, but now these
laughing gulls are playing nice.

No, Mui's not practicing his ballet moves; he's returning the fish that the waves
crashing ashore deposited at our feet back to the ocean.
[look to the immediate right of the fish inset if you need proof]

By the time we returned to the campground, the wind had picked up and there was a definite drop in the temperature.  Mui had chores to do outside … namely, organizing the basement; I had chores to do inside … namely, doing a couple of loads of laundry.  (This trip has presented me with the first opportunity to use the washer and dryer in the coach.  Sure, it means less closet space in the bedroom, but I love, love, love the convenience.  I’m so glad the former owners of the coach exercised the option to have them installed.)

Mui’s having way too much fun with his basement chores.

After the chores were finished, Mui settled down to do some web browsing.  For me, it was time to bundle up against the wind and make myself comfortable outside with a good book.  Who cares if the wind was blowing hard, or the temperature was continuing to drop, or the rain clouds were gathering … not me.

There’s just enough sunshine to ward off the chill.

Around 3:00p, we gathered our cameras and hopped in the car to drive the mile or so to the Chicamacomico (try saying that three times fast) Life-Saving Station.  It started to sprinkle rain while we were exploring the collection of buildings at the historic site/museum, but that didn’t stop us from enjoying ourselves.  (As with the other places we explored on this trip, I will post separately about this most-interesting site.)

You might say that the life-saving service was the forerunner of the Coast Guard.

It was past 5:00p when we returned to the coach.  Our plans for another long stroll on the beach were shelved in the face of cooler temps … 56F (13C).  On its own, the temperature would not have bothered us, but the strong wind that cut through our layers was a different matter.  Chilled to the bone, we changed into comfort-attire, cranked up the heat, and called it a day.

These windsurfers are enjoying the strong winds. 

Not sure what we’ll be doing tomorrow.  The forecast is for a mostly cloudy, chilly day.  Staying home under those circumstances is awfully compelling.  On the other hand, tomorrow is our last day to explore the OBX before we break camp Saturday.  We’ll sleep on it tonight and come up with a plan tomorrow.