Ray McAllister - Hatteras Island: Keeper of The Outer Banks

Hatteras

Island

KEEPER

of the

OUTER

BANKS

Also by Ray McAllister

Wrightsville Beach: The Luminous Island

Topsail Island: Mayberry by the Sea

Reflections: Objects in Mirror Appear
Backwards, But Maybe Its Me

JOHN F. BLAIR, PUBLISHER

WINSTON-SALEM, NORTH CAROLINA

Copyright 2009 by Ray McAllister

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address John F. Blair, Publisher Subsidiary Rights Department, 1406 Plaza Drive, Winston-Salem, North Carolina 27103.

Manufactured in the United States of America

Cover image by Vicki McAllister

Map by Roy Wilhelm

Book design by Debra Long Hampton

Background photo on pages ii - iii, Carolina Power and Light Photograph Collection, North Carolina State Archives

Background photo on page v by Vicki McAllister

Background photo on pages vi - vii,U. S. Air Force

Background photo on pages viii - ix by Vicki McAllister

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

McAllister, Ray, 1952

Hatteras Island : keeper of the Outer Banks / by Ray McAllister.

p. cm.

Includes bibliographical references and index.

ISBN 978-0-89587-364-4 (hardcover : alk. paper)ISBN 978-0-89587-363-7

(pbk. : alk. paper) 1. Hatteras Island (N.C.)History. I. Title.

F262.096M34 2009

975.61dc22

2009004629

www.blairpub.com

For Ryan

CONTENTS

O ur first year, we went to the wrong place.

It was so good that we kept going back.

This was September 1982, after Labor Day, when we labored our way down North Carolina Highway 12 past the crowded islandopolis of Kitty Hawk, Kill Devil Hills, and Nags Head, which was where most sensible people from Richmond stopped on North Carolinas Outer Banks. Back then, going even that far was a four-hour drive. But I had seen Nags Head a decade earlier and liked it better the way it had been, so we kept going onto Hatteras Island. Vicki and I and our infant daughter, Lindsay, accompanied by a collapsible playpen, were headed to an Outer Banks unencumbered by fast-food restaurants, shopping centers, and motel chains.

What lay ahead, we werent quite sure. We drove down the narrow highway in the dark for another hour and a half, usually between lines of sand dunes that made it seem a slalom course, looking for an inexpensive motel near the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse. The lighthouse was the only spot we knew of. We drove almost to the end of the island, finally reaching little Hatteras Village. We stopped at the Sea Gull Motel and checked in for the night.

In the morning, we discovered the lighthouse was in the village of Buxton, 15 miles behind us. Three towns, in fact, were closer to it than was Hatteras Village.

We stayed nonetheless, willing to forgive the island that small deceit. The island reciprocated generously. September on Hatteras Island is a glorious time. The weather and the water retain summers warmth. Prices have dropped from the peak season, and crowds have dwindled now that school has startednot that the island is ever really crowded.

We went back the next year and the next and the next. September on Hatteras is absolutely gloriousunless a hurricane or a noreaster is coming, of course, in which case it is absolute hell.

One year, we did get caught at the Sea Gull in a tropical storm. The electricity went out. The world crashed down around us. A Hatteras storm in the middle of the night is sheer terror. The next morning, the little-used island road was filled with people leaving.

But that was the exception. Cares wash away on Hatteras. Wristwatches lose their function. Each September morning for four years, we would walk across the main roadscarcely having to look, so infrequently were cars comingto a breakfast spot called The Lightship Restaurant. We might find two other couples there. We might find no one. Likewise, we had the beach and the few shops almost to ourselves. Hatteras visitors were more apt to be fishermen than tourists that time of year.

We always stayed at the Sea Gull. By then, our son, Ryan, had been born. If we were going to arrive late, the motel people would tape the room key to the office door. The allure of Hatteras was always the same. The allure was nothing. Adventures on the island were fewa trip to the lighthouse, buying T-shirts, a cookout on the beach, afternoon storms. Oh, and I once had to yank Lindsay from the surf so forcefully her arm was in a sling for several days. The Hatteras undertow is not to be trifled with.

We left the island before our younger daughter, Jamie, was born. Lindsay had started school, and Septembers on Hatteras were no longer an option. The realization brought sadness.

But the island remained on our minds. In 1990, I wrote a column about Hatteras for the Richmond Times-Dispatch. A dredge, buffeted during a heavy storm, had knocked out the bridge to the island. I called down to the Sea Gull to talk to one of the owners, Katie Oden, who said Outer Banks people were used to that sort of thing. The people down here, I dont want to say its not an inconvenience, because it is, but its not something youre not at all ready for, Katie said, using up her share of negatives.

Thirteen years later, I called the Sea Gull for another column and reached Katie again. This time, Hurricane Isabel had devastated Hatteras. The Sea Gull itself was national news. Part of the motel had been deposited across the street, part was sitting in the middle of the main highway, and Rooms 5 through 10 had simply been demolished.

But Marci, the daughter of Katie and Jeff Oden, was the main concern. She had been trapped inside the motel as chest-high water blocked the doors. Finally, the ocean smashed through a window and carried her into a motel garage. She got into the attic. Her parents prayed. We were absolutely positive that she didnt make it. She was trapped, Katie said over the phone. Our prayers were answered. Jeff and a neighbor waded to the motel with a surfboard to steady themselves. Jeff carried his exhausted daughter to safety.

Katie Oden said the damage was estimated at $3 million and the motel would not reopen. That was no easy decision for the two. Katie had been on the island for 30 years at that point, and Jeff was a seventh-generation Hatterasman.

But there is something in the Hatteras spirit. More than two decades after we had last seen the island, Vicki and I returned. We were looking to do a follow-up book to earlier ones on Topsail Island and Wrightsville Beach, and we had no doubt where we would go. We took that long drive down Hatterasand came upon the Sea Gull again. Some of the destroyed portion had been rebuilt. The motel was open. On the wall was a framed front page of the Norfolk Virginian-Pilot featuring Isabels wrath upon the Sea Gull.

To say Hatteras is unchanged would be lying. It has changed. But it has changed littlefar less than most other resortsand it has kept its soul. That may be more natures doing than mans. Man wins many contests elsewhere, but here, on Hatteras Island, put your money on nature.