The title of this post, is an early name for a very well-known place on the Outer Banks of North Carolina, however most people wouldn't have a clue as to what it means or represents. Promontorium Tremendum, or dreadful promontory, was the name for Cape Lookout on many early maps depicting the North Carolina Coast (Schoenbaum, pg. 189). Being that a promontory is a mass of land adjacent to a body of water, it is easy to see why Cape Lookout was a dreadful one for 16th and 17th century mariners. Cape Lookout, which lies approximately 70 miles southwest of Cape Hatteras has an interesting history unknown to many, and is often over-shadowed by the more popular cape to the north (Cape Hatteras). With any luck, I will attempt to shed light onto the fascinating history and modern day topics that surround Cape Lookout, and what life has in store for it years into the future.
The dreadful promontory that is Cape Lookout first appeared on maps of the new world of America in 1585, when naturalist John White sailed the surrounding shores and created one of the first maps accurately detailing the Outer Banks of North Carolina. (Stick, pg. 308). Before the arrival of the white man, the lands adjacent to Cape Lookout, mainly Core Banks, were inhabited by the Coree Indians, who hunted and fished on the banks near the cape, although they mainly resided further inland, in a village named Cwareuuoc, several miles behind Core Banks. After the visit from John White in the 16th century, Cape Lookout remained largely distant from the focus of history on the Outer Banks, being used mainly be Spanish privateers, taking shelter in the cove accessible by what is now called Barden Inlet. The cove used by the Spanish however, was so desirable that it warranted a visit from the Governor at the time, Arthur Dobbs, who stated the cove was "the best, altho small of any harbour from Boston to Georgia" and even tried to get the Governors mansion built on the Cape. (Stick, pg.309). Of the bankers who did live in the area, many were engaged in sustenance living, typically relying on the ocean and sounds for food, shelter and survival. Many people, are surprised to find out that in the late 18th and early 19th century, whaling was a huge industry around Cape Lookout, generating a much more substantial income than the odd jobs many previously worked. The first major event to happen on the cape occured in March of 1804, when congress aprroved the construction of the first lighthouse on Cape Lookout, which was finished sometime around 1812. The modern day lighthouse that visitors see today is actually the second lighthouse to occupy the area, as the first one was decidedly too short, and did little good for weary mariners. During the War between the States, Cape Lookout was laregly unused, although the lighthouse did sustain some damage after a raid from Confederate troops (Stick, pgs. 309-310).
In the time following the Civil War, the Cape Lookout area (specifically Shackleford Banks) was home to one of the largest populations on the Outer Banks. Diamond City, located on Shackleford Banks. The community, named after the diamond patter of the lighthouse, grew steadily in the late 1800's, eventually boasting a population of over 500 people. Despite the haven in which they lived, the residents eventually evacuated thanks to Ma Nature. A series of devestating hurricanes, including the infamous 1899 hurricane, or San Ciriaco Hurricane, which ravished the banks, forcing the bankers to the "promised land" section of Morehead city and to the more tranquil lands of Harkers Island as well. Thanks to an act of congress some 87 years after the hurricane, the Cape Lookout National Seashore was established, forever preserving the 56 miles from Portsmouth Village to Shackleford Banks.
Today, the Cape Lookout Seashore remains much as it did when White first laid eyes on it in the late 16th century. The unspoiled beaches, dunes and ecosystems are truly a testimony to the power and processes of nature. In fact, Cape Lookout is one of the healthiest beaches in North Carolina, largely thanks to the fact that it was spared from the overdevelopment the plaugued and still plaiges much of the Outer Banks and surrounding Carteret County. Rather than serve as a mobile home park or seaside mecca, Cape Lookout and its seashore serves to bring visitors back to the days of long ago, when beaches and nature were untouched by man. As for the future of the state, it will remain forever changing, and through that, forever static. Barrier islands are always moving, always adapting to the natural forces that affect them. Islands migrate, rise, accrete and erode on a very short term basis. However, Cape Lookout will be able to carry out these processes at its leisure, as it has all of eternity at its disposal. As I look into the future, I would like to see the Seashore continue to serve as a mecca for the natural world, adventure and edcucation. I would like to see the lighthouse refurbished, so anyone can see the view that awaits at the top. I would like to see historic Portsmouth Villiage restored to the time of its hayday, so visitors can feel the spirit of communtiy which was once as abundant as the water that surrounded them. I would Cape Lookout and the Seashore to keep being everything that arracted me to it in several years ago. With the help of smart, evironmentally literate politicians, an active community and an egaging public, this is a goal which could very easily be accomplished.
PR
Sources used-
Islands, Capes, and Sounds- The North Carolina Coast. 1982. Thomas J. Schoenbaum. Page 189.
The Outer Banks of North Carolina. 1958. David Stick. Pages 308-311.
Link to a great documentary concerning Cape Lookout National Seashore-
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=utDERYua404
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Old Quawk's Day
As the calendar draws nearer and nearer to spring, I thought it would be appropriate to discuss a not so well known tradition on the Outer Banks of North Carolina (more so the Southern Outer Banks). The day, almost exactly one month away, March 16th, is known locally as "Old Quawk's Day". The dubious holiday also symbolizes the equality of the sun and moon, as the vernal equinox draws near, in which the sun completes its journey back to the equator, only to make its way 23 and a half more degrees north over the course of the next three months. On this day, daylight and darkness vie equally for attention among us Earth dwellers, resulting in twelve hours of daylight, and twelve hours of darkness. What most people don't know however, its that March 16th, snuggled between the Ides of March and the Equinox, represents a day in which one should remain at home, thanks to the legend of the Old Quawk.
I first came across the legend of Old Quawk in Bob Simpson's When the Water Smokes: Tides and Seasons on a Wooden Boat, a book I highly recommend for anyone interested in the Crystal Coast/Carteret County or anyone with a hankering for the slow pace of yesteryear. According to Simpson, Old Quawk was a described as a "South American Indian" who ashed ashore during a storm in the 1880's. Local legend has it that Old Quawk as he would come to be known (for his voice that "the bankers could compare only to the voice of the black-crowned night heron" pg. 24), was somewhat of a wild card, yet over time, earned through hard work, the respect of the hardy banks people. As many who have spent a winter on the Outer Banks know, early March can be a volatile time, and this was no exception during the years of Old Quawk. Any sensible coastal folk, Simpson notes, know to stay away from the waters and the outdoors in general during this period, and essentially let nature take her course. However, Old Quawk, undaunted by the impending harsh weather, decided to venture out into the elements, in stern disagreement with local lore and the local people. The people of the banks urged him not to go, yet Old Quawk did not yield their warnings. The Old Quawk ventured out into the teeth of the storm and was never heard from again.
If there is one thing to draw from the story of Old Quawk, it is to always respect mother nature. Especially on the Outer Banks and surrounding islands and coastal plain, spring can be (and most often is) a time of great change in the area. The return of March symbolizes the return of the strong Carolina sun, which will remain prominent until the late days of October. The leap from winter to spring also signifies the revitalization or rebirth of life along the banks, and once again the area comes alive. Despite the warmth and sunshine that can kiss the banks in the spring, one must remember that it can also be a time of harsh weather, something Old Quawk found out the hard way. After a little further research, I sadly discovered that the prominence of Old Quawk has since disappeared, and isn't known by many bankers anymore. Whatever the case may be, I would not be surprised if the weather on March 16th around the central banks wasn't seventy and sunny.
PR
I first came across the legend of Old Quawk in Bob Simpson's When the Water Smokes: Tides and Seasons on a Wooden Boat, a book I highly recommend for anyone interested in the Crystal Coast/Carteret County or anyone with a hankering for the slow pace of yesteryear. According to Simpson, Old Quawk was a described as a "South American Indian" who ashed ashore during a storm in the 1880's. Local legend has it that Old Quawk as he would come to be known (for his voice that "the bankers could compare only to the voice of the black-crowned night heron" pg. 24), was somewhat of a wild card, yet over time, earned through hard work, the respect of the hardy banks people. As many who have spent a winter on the Outer Banks know, early March can be a volatile time, and this was no exception during the years of Old Quawk. Any sensible coastal folk, Simpson notes, know to stay away from the waters and the outdoors in general during this period, and essentially let nature take her course. However, Old Quawk, undaunted by the impending harsh weather, decided to venture out into the elements, in stern disagreement with local lore and the local people. The people of the banks urged him not to go, yet Old Quawk did not yield their warnings. The Old Quawk ventured out into the teeth of the storm and was never heard from again.
If there is one thing to draw from the story of Old Quawk, it is to always respect mother nature. Especially on the Outer Banks and surrounding islands and coastal plain, spring can be (and most often is) a time of great change in the area. The return of March symbolizes the return of the strong Carolina sun, which will remain prominent until the late days of October. The leap from winter to spring also signifies the revitalization or rebirth of life along the banks, and once again the area comes alive. Despite the warmth and sunshine that can kiss the banks in the spring, one must remember that it can also be a time of harsh weather, something Old Quawk found out the hard way. After a little further research, I sadly discovered that the prominence of Old Quawk has since disappeared, and isn't known by many bankers anymore. Whatever the case may be, I would not be surprised if the weather on March 16th around the central banks wasn't seventy and sunny.
PR
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Down East- Where Time Stands Still
Since I started this blog a mere month ago I have been wanting to write about one of the most interesting places in coastal North Carolina. What originally inspired this post is my overall fascination with the area, where time seemingly comes to a halt, and life continues to proceed at a speed much slower than the surrounding 21st century world. Throughout the communities that makeup Down East, the way of life remains nearly unchanged from what it was a half century ago or more. Many still work the surrounding waters for a living, relying much on the natural resources that surround them to provide them with livelihood. In essence, Down East North Carolina is the ultimate sustenance community, working together with what surrounds them to survive.
So, given the above passage about Down East, the next logical step is to tell you where on Earth it is. According to some, the term Down East refers to anything in North Carolina that lies East of I-95. This broad geographic region however, is hardly what many people familiar with coastal North Carolina call Down East. To many locals, Down East is a vernacular term for what is generally thought to be the small communities Northeast of Beaufort such as Harkers Island, Stacy, Atlantic, Sea Level and many more towns that just barely make the map.
However, for what the area lacks in size, it more than makes up for in personality. To fully express the character of the region and its people, I call on the Carteret County nature writer Bob Simpson and his description of what and where Down East is and who Downeasters are from his book When the Water Smokes: Tides and Seasons on a Wooden Boat. This description, I believe, is one of the few descriptions of Down East (of which there are a surprising amount) which pays the area justice. It is as follows:
"We found Down East to be the section of North Carolina Down East of Beaufort, where folks still live in harmony with the sea. To be precise, a Downeaster is best defined as one who prefers salt fish (notably spots) for breakfast. But mostly it is a state of mind, where the people like wooden boats and build them in back yards beneath big live oak trees. It is where women are sensible enough to wear calico sunbonnets while out hoeing collards in a garden fenced with fishnet. It is where men still gather in the lee of an old shed, wearing rubber boots, to tell yarns as long as your arm and drink what they still call sodas. Down East is where you can see a black hunting dog dozing amid old decoys stacked carelessly beside a nethouse.
Down East Carolina is where rust-streaked skiffs rock easily, tethered to stakes in the shallows, while a soft wind ripples the sounds into hills and valleys of blues and greens and beyond is the yellow glare of sand and salt haze and sun. It is where gulls nosily follow trawlers and long haulers, their decks piled high with jumbles of nets. Its where the sharp scents of salt and marsh linger in the light, damp air. It is great stacks of crab pots and fish boxes lining the docks and kids pedaling their bicycles on sandy roads. Its men going barefoot all summer, tough-footed on shelly shores and grassy lawns, men who don't seem to mind getting up while the stars are bright to set a net or pick up a line of crab pots whose floats dot off across the sound to where horizon blends with rising sun.
Down East? Why, that's where the folks still walk along the roads at night to visit with friends sitting on porches, and gather every Sunday in church to sing together and pray together. Downeasters are the hard-working people who make up the backbone of the land, independent, strong, and proud, the salt of the earth. So whenever you visit the region located somewhere east of Beaufort, where you can watch the sun rise boldly from the sea, feel the sand between your toes, and inhale the pungence of fish and brine, of marsh and pine, you may, by watching closely, find a land of dreams that is no fantasy land, but Down East" (Pgs. 80-81).
Simpson's description of the area is unparalleled by any I have come across. He writes with what seems to be a true passion and admiration for the area, and it certainly is conveyed through his writing. Despite the hectic world that surrounds Down East, the towns that make up the region have always managed to hold true to their roots, not letting the outside world greatly impact them, for better or for worse. Being resistant to great change and influence from the modern world means that Down East is still a very isolated region, with no large supermarkets, stores, or many of the conveniences of modern life which us city dwellers have grown to see as the norm. Despite its perceived shortcomings, there is a mystique which surrounds the area, one that allows visitors to see the external Down East but only by living there can one discover the true Down East culture. What attracts me to Down East? Perhaps it is the simplicity of the names such as Sea Level or Atlantic, or the simplicity of lifestyle, which coming from a city I have always yearned to explore. Perhaps it is the symbiotic relationship that the people have with their environment. Downeasters are a people who make a living from their surroundings while still living within the natural constraints that the land and sea sets forth. Whatever it is that calls me to the region, I hope it remains unchanged for decades to come, as the world (specifically us city dwellers) occasionally needs to be reminded that havens such as Down East exist.
PR
Image link- http://www.downeasttour.com/images/IntroMap.jpg
Great site for exploring the Down East communities- http://downeasttour.com/
So, given the above passage about Down East, the next logical step is to tell you where on Earth it is. According to some, the term Down East refers to anything in North Carolina that lies East of I-95. This broad geographic region however, is hardly what many people familiar with coastal North Carolina call Down East. To many locals, Down East is a vernacular term for what is generally thought to be the small communities Northeast of Beaufort such as Harkers Island, Stacy, Atlantic, Sea Level and many more towns that just barely make the map.
 |
| Down East NC, shown as the portion Northeast of Bogue Banks, highlighted in blue. |
"We found Down East to be the section of North Carolina Down East of Beaufort, where folks still live in harmony with the sea. To be precise, a Downeaster is best defined as one who prefers salt fish (notably spots) for breakfast. But mostly it is a state of mind, where the people like wooden boats and build them in back yards beneath big live oak trees. It is where women are sensible enough to wear calico sunbonnets while out hoeing collards in a garden fenced with fishnet. It is where men still gather in the lee of an old shed, wearing rubber boots, to tell yarns as long as your arm and drink what they still call sodas. Down East is where you can see a black hunting dog dozing amid old decoys stacked carelessly beside a nethouse.
Down East Carolina is where rust-streaked skiffs rock easily, tethered to stakes in the shallows, while a soft wind ripples the sounds into hills and valleys of blues and greens and beyond is the yellow glare of sand and salt haze and sun. It is where gulls nosily follow trawlers and long haulers, their decks piled high with jumbles of nets. Its where the sharp scents of salt and marsh linger in the light, damp air. It is great stacks of crab pots and fish boxes lining the docks and kids pedaling their bicycles on sandy roads. Its men going barefoot all summer, tough-footed on shelly shores and grassy lawns, men who don't seem to mind getting up while the stars are bright to set a net or pick up a line of crab pots whose floats dot off across the sound to where horizon blends with rising sun.
Down East? Why, that's where the folks still walk along the roads at night to visit with friends sitting on porches, and gather every Sunday in church to sing together and pray together. Downeasters are the hard-working people who make up the backbone of the land, independent, strong, and proud, the salt of the earth. So whenever you visit the region located somewhere east of Beaufort, where you can watch the sun rise boldly from the sea, feel the sand between your toes, and inhale the pungence of fish and brine, of marsh and pine, you may, by watching closely, find a land of dreams that is no fantasy land, but Down East" (Pgs. 80-81).
Simpson's description of the area is unparalleled by any I have come across. He writes with what seems to be a true passion and admiration for the area, and it certainly is conveyed through his writing. Despite the hectic world that surrounds Down East, the towns that make up the region have always managed to hold true to their roots, not letting the outside world greatly impact them, for better or for worse. Being resistant to great change and influence from the modern world means that Down East is still a very isolated region, with no large supermarkets, stores, or many of the conveniences of modern life which us city dwellers have grown to see as the norm. Despite its perceived shortcomings, there is a mystique which surrounds the area, one that allows visitors to see the external Down East but only by living there can one discover the true Down East culture. What attracts me to Down East? Perhaps it is the simplicity of the names such as Sea Level or Atlantic, or the simplicity of lifestyle, which coming from a city I have always yearned to explore. Perhaps it is the symbiotic relationship that the people have with their environment. Downeasters are a people who make a living from their surroundings while still living within the natural constraints that the land and sea sets forth. Whatever it is that calls me to the region, I hope it remains unchanged for decades to come, as the world (specifically us city dwellers) occasionally needs to be reminded that havens such as Down East exist.
PR
Image link- http://www.downeasttour.com/images/IntroMap.jpg
Great site for exploring the Down East communities- http://downeasttour.com/
Sunday, February 3, 2013
The Outer Banks- "Restless Ribbons of Sand"
The above title, originally coined in a report by Dr. Charles Peterson of UNC in a U.S. Department of the Interior publication on barrier islands (Pilkey et al., 1998), has come through time to represent many aspects of the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Over time, the term has come to relate to various features of the banks such as its most literal meaning concerning the morphology and aeolian processes of the banks, but lending itself as well to interpretations such as isolation, development, and even equality. The extremely unique geography and geology of the Outer Banks has allowed for a place unto itself, resulting in a culture and physicality that are as equally unique. This post will examine how the geography of the "Restless Ribbon of Sand" that is the Outer Banks influenced the past and still affects us well into the 21st century.
The Outer Banks is called a "Restless Ribbon of Sand" for a reason. Its thin surface area gives it the appearance of a piece of ribbon, a piece which stretches for over 160 miles down the shore of the mid-Atlantic coastline. This narrow piece of land goes hand in hand with the first interpretation listed above, isolation. At its greatest width, the Outer Banks are a staggering 55 miles from the shores of the inner coast. This distance spans over the vast inland sea, which early explorer Giovanni da Verrazzano thought to be the Pacific Ocean, but is what we now know to be Pamlico Sound. This isolation from the mainland has led the Outer Banks to develop their own unique culture, social norms, and even a distinct dialect known as the hoi toider (high tider) accent still spoken on the banks today (http://www.ncsu.edu/linguistics/videoplayer.php?vidcode=21.8). Perhaps the greatest social norm that was unique to the banks during the Civil War and through the early 20th century was the treatment of African-Americans. Unlike the largely racist and slavery stricken mainland, the people of the Outer Banks seemed not to care what color a persons skin was, but rather what type of person they were. Following the Civil War, Roanoke Island became home to one of the earliest all black settlements in America. The "Freedmen's Colony" as it was called became a lively and prosperous place, home to dozens of African-American families seeking a new life in post-Civil War America. The tradition of equality continued into the 20th century with the formation of the Pea Island Life Saving Service, the only all black life saving service in America. The Pea Island men were known up and down the banks as being the most well prepared station on the banks, earning them respect in a time when it was not easily earned.
Aside from social constructs, the unique location, geology and topography combine to form an interesting case when it comes to development on the Outer Banks. The isolation provided by the numerous sounds of Eastern North Carolina was the first problem when development began on the banks in the late 19th-early 20th century. Steamships were the only way to get to the banks, a problem greatly realized by many early visitors including Wilbur and Orville Wright, who made the dangerous journey for three straight years from 1900 to 1903. Now, in the 21st century, the isolation issue has been solved with bridges and ferries, yet development still remains an issue. Homes are built upon pieces of real estate that are constantly shifting and at the mercy of the wind, waves, and rain. Despite the drawbacks of building on sand that is indeed "restless", people still pay top dollar for these homes. However, when storms such as the recent Hurricane Sandy come ashore, these people are the first to cry foul, seemingly awestruck that their home succumbed to the natural effects of the storm. It's like living near an airport and complaining about the noise. Aside from building on land subject to erosion, overwash and other barrier island dynamics, another problem the Outer Banks is plagued with is over-development. The increasing number of people who want to make the banks the permanent or temporary home is without a doubt a double edged sword, one that is very very sharp. It is completely understandable that everyone wants a view of the beach from the window, however, this want is very unlikely and could be very costly in the long (or near) future. What most people seem not to understand is that barrier islands migrate landward in response to sea-level rise, no matter what type of insurance or how much money a person may have. This inevitable reality leads to house that can only be viewed as temporary, as it will most likely be gone or need serious remodeling in as little as a decade. With increasing amounts of people moving to the beach, problems such as sewage issues, water supplies, and unsafe development may lead the mayors of the towns along the banks to hang signs that read "no vacancy" to warn tourists upon entering their town.
It is clear that the isolation of the banks has yielded a large range of results. Whether it be cultures and dialects native to the banks, civil liberties and rights uncommon in such a southern parallel of latitude, or severe cases of over development, this "restless ribbon of sand" that millions of people have grown to love has certainly fostered numerous characteristics that are truly unique to such as small area on this planet. The geography and geology of the banks has fostered brilliance such as the first flight of Wilbur and Orville Wright but such incompetence such as the over development of barrier islands that can only withstand so much. As we move into the future we must remember that the land we love so much is indeed restless and will not stop moving no matter how much we plead. We must remember that we are subject to the same forces as the island. We must remember that we are forced to move where the island moves. We must remember that it is the islands of the Outer Banks we love. We must remember that they (the islands) have limits that we are marching ever closer to. We must remember to think about the banks and how they will react in the future to what we think is right in the present.
PR
The Outer Banks is called a "Restless Ribbon of Sand" for a reason. Its thin surface area gives it the appearance of a piece of ribbon, a piece which stretches for over 160 miles down the shore of the mid-Atlantic coastline. This narrow piece of land goes hand in hand with the first interpretation listed above, isolation. At its greatest width, the Outer Banks are a staggering 55 miles from the shores of the inner coast. This distance spans over the vast inland sea, which early explorer Giovanni da Verrazzano thought to be the Pacific Ocean, but is what we now know to be Pamlico Sound. This isolation from the mainland has led the Outer Banks to develop their own unique culture, social norms, and even a distinct dialect known as the hoi toider (high tider) accent still spoken on the banks today (http://www.ncsu.edu/linguistics/videoplayer.php?vidcode=21.8). Perhaps the greatest social norm that was unique to the banks during the Civil War and through the early 20th century was the treatment of African-Americans. Unlike the largely racist and slavery stricken mainland, the people of the Outer Banks seemed not to care what color a persons skin was, but rather what type of person they were. Following the Civil War, Roanoke Island became home to one of the earliest all black settlements in America. The "Freedmen's Colony" as it was called became a lively and prosperous place, home to dozens of African-American families seeking a new life in post-Civil War America. The tradition of equality continued into the 20th century with the formation of the Pea Island Life Saving Service, the only all black life saving service in America. The Pea Island men were known up and down the banks as being the most well prepared station on the banks, earning them respect in a time when it was not easily earned.
Aside from social constructs, the unique location, geology and topography combine to form an interesting case when it comes to development on the Outer Banks. The isolation provided by the numerous sounds of Eastern North Carolina was the first problem when development began on the banks in the late 19th-early 20th century. Steamships were the only way to get to the banks, a problem greatly realized by many early visitors including Wilbur and Orville Wright, who made the dangerous journey for three straight years from 1900 to 1903. Now, in the 21st century, the isolation issue has been solved with bridges and ferries, yet development still remains an issue. Homes are built upon pieces of real estate that are constantly shifting and at the mercy of the wind, waves, and rain. Despite the drawbacks of building on sand that is indeed "restless", people still pay top dollar for these homes. However, when storms such as the recent Hurricane Sandy come ashore, these people are the first to cry foul, seemingly awestruck that their home succumbed to the natural effects of the storm. It's like living near an airport and complaining about the noise. Aside from building on land subject to erosion, overwash and other barrier island dynamics, another problem the Outer Banks is plagued with is over-development. The increasing number of people who want to make the banks the permanent or temporary home is without a doubt a double edged sword, one that is very very sharp. It is completely understandable that everyone wants a view of the beach from the window, however, this want is very unlikely and could be very costly in the long (or near) future. What most people seem not to understand is that barrier islands migrate landward in response to sea-level rise, no matter what type of insurance or how much money a person may have. This inevitable reality leads to house that can only be viewed as temporary, as it will most likely be gone or need serious remodeling in as little as a decade. With increasing amounts of people moving to the beach, problems such as sewage issues, water supplies, and unsafe development may lead the mayors of the towns along the banks to hang signs that read "no vacancy" to warn tourists upon entering their town.
It is clear that the isolation of the banks has yielded a large range of results. Whether it be cultures and dialects native to the banks, civil liberties and rights uncommon in such a southern parallel of latitude, or severe cases of over development, this "restless ribbon of sand" that millions of people have grown to love has certainly fostered numerous characteristics that are truly unique to such as small area on this planet. The geography and geology of the banks has fostered brilliance such as the first flight of Wilbur and Orville Wright but such incompetence such as the over development of barrier islands that can only withstand so much. As we move into the future we must remember that the land we love so much is indeed restless and will not stop moving no matter how much we plead. We must remember that we are subject to the same forces as the island. We must remember that we are forced to move where the island moves. We must remember that it is the islands of the Outer Banks we love. We must remember that they (the islands) have limits that we are marching ever closer to. We must remember to think about the banks and how they will react in the future to what we think is right in the present.
PR
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