Unusual Circumstances
1772. Dangerously close to the Diamond Shoals off North Carolina’s Outer Banks, the sloop Thunderbolt, battered by a fierce storm and rough sea, catches fire from an overturned cook stove. All aboard scrambled to put out the flames while trying to keep from being tossed overboard. The shoals, sand dunes just below the water’s surface, reach out some 18 miles past Hatteras Point. Hundreds of ships have run aground here, miles from shore, to be pulverized by the relentless waves... and often, all aboard drown.
On this day, a terrified 17-year-old orphaned boy from St. Croix, on his way to an American education, is among those fighting to save the ship... he is Alexander Hamilton, who would get that education and become the first U. S. Secretary of the Treasury under President George Washington. Resting against the rails of the saved ship, he watches as the shoals recede away... and vows to do something so that others would not know such fear.
There was a reason ships were drawn near the shoals... wind-driven ships also relied on ocean current, which at times can move better than 40 mph. The Labrador Current sweeps down from the north and hugs this coast to about two miles off the beach. Beyond that is the Gulf Stream that moves up from the south toward the upper tier states. Often, it was faster for ships coming to Boston or New York from Europe to work their way south to catch the Gulf Stream than it was to come straight across the Atlantic. Even back in the day, folks in the shipping business knew that time is money. The confluence of the cold Labrador Current and the warm Gulf Stream also set up perfect conditions for violent storms and ocean swells. Add to that the shoals, which extended beyond sight of land amid that confluence, and many an unwary ship’s captain left “money” to shift among the sands of these underwater dunes. Only jetsam and flotsam found on the beaches along the Outer Banks gave evidence of the fate of the ship.
As Secretary of the Treasury, Hamilton finally has the power to make good on his vows, and the U. S. Lighthouse Service, and eventually the U. S. Coast Guard fall under the auspices of the Treasury Department. The first lighthouses along the east coast were functional, if just barely, and were not constructed to the exacting standards you see here... there’s something to be said of building your house on shifting sand, as many of the early lighthouses here in North Carolina toppled shortly after construction. Under the supervision of Dexter Stetson, Hatteras Lighthouse rose up 210 feet from a foundation of granite, rubble, and entire lengths of pine pushed to the bedrock... and stayed up, as it has since 1870. With a focal plane at 187 feet, its light could be seen for 28 miles, well before a ship reached the shoals at night. Its conical tower is painted in black and white spirals to make it distinctive from other local lighthouses.
After his success at Hatteras, Stetson turned his attention to Bodie Island. The name of the island is in contention, largely due to revisionist historians... the name is pronounced “body” and is likely an archaic form of that word. Legend has it the name comes because of bodies washing ashore after some ship found its resting place in the of the Graveyard of the Atlantic. According to some historians, however, the name comes from a family that once lived here, though that has never been proven... the legend may not be so legendary, as such things did happen. A lighthouse would save lives here too.
There were two lighthouses located here before the one you see here. The first one leaned toward the sea shortly after it was built. That was in the day before electrical power, so the lighthouse had to be tended to every day... could you imagine having to climb up a structure so unstable that it might topple any second, at least twice a day? Me neither. It failed and was replaced, but Confederate troops blew the second one up in 1861 during a series of skirmishes as Yankee troops descended on Fort Fisher. The third installment of Bodie Island Lighthouse projected light from its first order Fresnel lens for the first time in 1872. At a height of 165 feet, its beam can still be seen 21 miles out to sea.
Though built on a land that shifts with the wind and tide, Bodie Island Lighthouse has withstood hurricanes, nor’easters, floods, lightning, heat, and humidity, but 148 years of such conditions had taken its toll. After much determination, restoration of the lighthouse began in 2010. The last of the project was the installation of the refurbished Fresnel lens... after a re-lighting ceremony, the lighthouse was returned to service April 18, 2013. Seen here in morning light 11 years since, Bodie Island Lighthouse is still every bit the historical standout with its alternating bands of black and white.
Weather in the last week flooded roads and breached dune berms in the area… lucky me. It also provided unusual circumstances for me to shoot the lighthouse, magnificent as it has been for 152 years.
Unusual Circumstances
1772. Dangerously close to the Diamond Shoals off North Carolina’s Outer Banks, the sloop Thunderbolt, battered by a fierce storm and rough sea, catches fire from an overturned cook stove. All aboard scrambled to put out the flames while trying to keep from being tossed overboard. The shoals, sand dunes just below the water’s surface, reach out some 18 miles past Hatteras Point. Hundreds of ships have run aground here, miles from shore, to be pulverized by the relentless waves... and often, all aboard drown.
On this day, a terrified 17-year-old orphaned boy from St. Croix, on his way to an American education, is among those fighting to save the ship... he is Alexander Hamilton, who would get that education and become the first U. S. Secretary of the Treasury under President George Washington. Resting against the rails of the saved ship, he watches as the shoals recede away... and vows to do something so that others would not know such fear.
There was a reason ships were drawn near the shoals... wind-driven ships also relied on ocean current, which at times can move better than 40 mph. The Labrador Current sweeps down from the north and hugs this coast to about two miles off the beach. Beyond that is the Gulf Stream that moves up from the south toward the upper tier states. Often, it was faster for ships coming to Boston or New York from Europe to work their way south to catch the Gulf Stream than it was to come straight across the Atlantic. Even back in the day, folks in the shipping business knew that time is money. The confluence of the cold Labrador Current and the warm Gulf Stream also set up perfect conditions for violent storms and ocean swells. Add to that the shoals, which extended beyond sight of land amid that confluence, and many an unwary ship’s captain left “money” to shift among the sands of these underwater dunes. Only jetsam and flotsam found on the beaches along the Outer Banks gave evidence of the fate of the ship.
As Secretary of the Treasury, Hamilton finally has the power to make good on his vows, and the U. S. Lighthouse Service, and eventually the U. S. Coast Guard fall under the auspices of the Treasury Department. The first lighthouses along the east coast were functional, if just barely, and were not constructed to the exacting standards you see here... there’s something to be said of building your house on shifting sand, as many of the early lighthouses here in North Carolina toppled shortly after construction. Under the supervision of Dexter Stetson, Hatteras Lighthouse rose up 210 feet from a foundation of granite, rubble, and entire lengths of pine pushed to the bedrock... and stayed up, as it has since 1870. With a focal plane at 187 feet, its light could be seen for 28 miles, well before a ship reached the shoals at night. Its conical tower is painted in black and white spirals to make it distinctive from other local lighthouses.
After his success at Hatteras, Stetson turned his attention to Bodie Island. The name of the island is in contention, largely due to revisionist historians... the name is pronounced “body” and is likely an archaic form of that word. Legend has it the name comes because of bodies washing ashore after some ship found its resting place in the of the Graveyard of the Atlantic. According to some historians, however, the name comes from a family that once lived here, though that has never been proven... the legend may not be so legendary, as such things did happen. A lighthouse would save lives here too.
There were two lighthouses located here before the one you see here. The first one leaned toward the sea shortly after it was built. That was in the day before electrical power, so the lighthouse had to be tended to every day... could you imagine having to climb up a structure so unstable that it might topple any second, at least twice a day? Me neither. It failed and was replaced, but Confederate troops blew the second one up in 1861 during a series of skirmishes as Yankee troops descended on Fort Fisher. The third installment of Bodie Island Lighthouse projected light from its first order Fresnel lens for the first time in 1872. At a height of 165 feet, its beam can still be seen 21 miles out to sea.
Though built on a land that shifts with the wind and tide, Bodie Island Lighthouse has withstood hurricanes, nor’easters, floods, lightning, heat, and humidity, but 148 years of such conditions had taken its toll. After much determination, restoration of the lighthouse began in 2010. The last of the project was the installation of the refurbished Fresnel lens... after a re-lighting ceremony, the lighthouse was returned to service April 18, 2013. Seen here in morning light 11 years since, Bodie Island Lighthouse is still every bit the historical standout with its alternating bands of black and white.
Weather in the last week flooded roads and breached dune berms in the area… lucky me. It also provided unusual circumstances for me to shoot the lighthouse, magnificent as it has been for 152 years.