Flat Ranger, U-Boats, and Lighthouses

Monday, January 4, 2016

We would like to give you a snapshot of our work and living situation down here. It truly varies day to day. We work and live on Harkers Island which is a community of 1800 people and the Park is at the end of this island. If you drive any further, you would end up in Pamlico Sound. Our house is behind the park visitor center. A large gate is locked every night but fortunately we have a key so we can lock and unlock this huge steel gate which extends across the road to block people from driving into this area. We are the only people living out here now, but in the summer there are RV pads across the road from the house for about 6 vehicles. So it is very quiet out here. We face the sound which is about a 100 yards from our house.

This week we responded to letters from children who sent their flat rangers. This is a project for elementary age children to explore various parks and learn about them. The children design a flat ranger with their name on the ranger. Then as park staff we post this flat ranger in a variety of settings (3) and describe what they would be doing as a ranger. In this case the flat ranger would be leading a group of visitors on a tour to see the lighthouse. One day we had to take 12 pictures for three children and write a vignette for each picture and then forward that request to another park requested by the student.

In addition we actually are involved in some interpretive tours. On January 1^st there was a special New Years Day climb of the lighthouse. The trip was full; we had 42 people who climbed all 207 steps to the top of the lighthouse. Carol was perched at the landing which was at the 170 step which she called BCL, Breath Catching Landing. We were charged with greeting folks and helping to provide some interpretation. For example the original lighthouse keepers needed to haul either whale oil or kerosene up those 207 steps sometimes 2or 3 times a day to keep the lens light burning. The 5 gallon jugs weighed about 50 lbs. 

I was at the lightkeeper's house and explained the history of the area and also about the German U-boats. One major difference between lighthouses on the Great Lakes and those on the Eastern Seaboard is that on the Great Lakes you were dropped off in April or whenever the ice went out and not picked back up until November. Cape Lookout ferry service made this site much more accessible to the mainland and not so isolated.

As I stated earlier we knew information about the Civil War and have learned more about the campaigns in North Carolina but neither of us was aware of the German U-Boats lurking off the coast of the Outer Banks during World War 2. We were surprised to discover that they sank about 100 ships, a fact that the wartime government did not make public. They didn't want to “alarm citizens” so they did not tell them about their presence - hard to imagine the government keeping secrets! A coast guard ship sank a German U-boat about 10 miles from the lighthouse. They even captured some German POWs. On Saturday we took the ferry over to Ocracoke Island where there is a British Cemetery with specially noted grave markers for four British seamen because FDR asked help from Britain in the patroling of the waters off the Outer Banks.

To give a sense of our location - the park is on the island but to get to the other sites, you need a boat. Several staff members each have their own National Park Service boat to get around. The wild horses are on Shackleford Island, the lighthouse on Cape Lookout Island, Portsmouth Village is on another island, as well as Great Island and Long Island. All have volunteer housing in the summer. We are always on water either surrounded by it on our lawns, roads, or traveling on it to get to work assignments. We know the rhyme of the Ancient Mariner's line well: “Water, water, everywhere and not a drop to drink; water, water everywhere and all the boards did shrink!”

Here is Ms Carol and Steve our boss heading out to Cape Lookout.

A Half Century and a Full Century of Parks Carol's editorial

Wednesday, December 30

2016 marks the Centennial for the National Park Service, and coincidentally it is the 50^th anniversary of Cape Lookout National Seashore (CALO). On March 10, 1966, President Lyndon Johnson signed legislation creating CALO. In his remarks at that signing, he said,

A few months ago I stated that the clear water and the warm sandy beaches of our coastline are our Nation's real treasure, but I also observed that this kind of a treasure is not always secure. The question that many times faces us is: Will it be owned by a handful of the wealthy people, or will we preserve it for the pleasure of every American?

Will it be strewn with broken glass and rusting cans and commercialized beyond recognition, or will we leave a part of it as God created it and as man found it? 

 

On August 25, 1916, President Woodrow Wilson signed the act creating the National Park Service, a new federal bureau in the Department of the Interior responsible for protecting the 35 national parks and monuments then managed by the department and those yet to be established. This "Organic Act" states that

the Service thus established shall promote and regulate the use of the Federal areas known as national parks, monuments and reservations…by such means and measures as conform to the fundamental purpose of the said parks, monuments and reservations, which purpose is to conserve the scenery and the natural and historic objects and the wild life therein and to provide for the enjoyment of the same in such manner and by such means as will leave them unimpaired for the enjoyment of future generations.

Clearly the intent of the national parks, whether here at Cape Lookout National Seashore, or any other of the 400+ scattered across the United States, is to “conserve” the environment to ensure a legacy for future generations. The irony of it all is that parks are faced with major challenges in their efforts to meet that intent. For example, more and more Americans are flocking to our national parks. “The number of recreational visits to national parks in 2014 – a whopping 292.8 million – exceeded 2013's total by more than 19 million” (Winter, 2015, issue of National Parks, the magazine of the National Parks Conservation Association). While park attendance is soaring, and that's terrific, funding for parks continues to slow, reducing staff and maintenance.

We see these effects on a day to day basis. But CALO staff, as staff at each of the parks we have worked, continue to work hard to ensure a good visit for all - “conserving” the environment to ensure a legacy for the future. Visit a national park this centenary year of 2016.

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A Day of Horsing Around

Monday, December 21

We had an incredible opportunity today to spend five hours on the Shackleford Banks, reached only by ferry, with Dr. Sue, the CAPO vet for the feral and wild horses living on the Banks. Our assignment was to collect fresh poop from various mares for pregnancy testing. Three scoops of poop per mare, with seven sealed bags by the time we finished.

Genetic research shows evidence of Spanish ancestry in the herd of 114. How? Why? Many theories abound, but no one is available to tell that story in fact. Within the herd of 114 there are about 25 harems (one stallion, one or more mares and their young) and 7 bachelor bands. Each dominant “alpha” stallion guards one harem, and based on observation over time, the harem population changes. The alpha stallion herds and protects his harem from other stallions or other dangers.

These horses are wild, neither fed nor watered by the Park. Plenty of fresh water and grazing vegetation is available all over the island. The task at hand for today was first to find the horses, observe them to identify them and then watch for a rising tail and falling poop. Timing became a factor in this work because the alpha stallion will on occasion mark the poop, thus invalidating any collected specimen. In the collection process, we watched carefully to stay safe from the stallion and other mares in the vicinity. Finding the poop once it's deposited isn't as easy as it sounds. We tried to stay at least 50 feet from the horses at all times and had to wait until it was safe to move in with a plastic bag. By the time we got to the spot we had to look carefully – first find it and then be sure it was the fresh one – kind of soft and a bit squishy, truth be told.

Dr. Sue left Carol and me to track certain mares while she went off in another direction to track a different one. At another time Dr. Sue and I went off, leaving Carol with two mares to monitor. In the meanwhile, those two had a bit of a tiff (the mares Carol was watching) over access to a fresh water hole. When the younger one got to close, the older one instigated a bit of a face fight so the younger strolled away. But she was impatient and returned, at which point the older one simply moved to block all access to the water hole.  Pictures are posted below.

The first shot is a rather typical Shackleford picture - a couple of the horses hanging out on the dunes.  The other three are of Carol on her way to collect poop, collecting three specimens, and on her way back to join Hillary and Dr. Sue - that's the middle one, I guess.  The top shot of those three could be entitled "Now where is that poop?" and the bottom one "Getting it"

After that set of activities was completed we happened along a mare in heat trot off in the direction of one of the bachelor stallions who had called to her. The alpha heard and came trotting out of the bushes at full speed to stop this engagement. He nipped at and reared the bachelor and then chased him out of his turf. Alpha Stallion returned to his mare and herded her back into the harem. What a sight!

A great book for those intersted in wild horses is Nobody's Horses: The Dramatic Rescue of the Wild Herd of White Sands by Don Hoglund.

"Ribbons of Sand"

Friday, December 18

“When I die I would like to become part of the salt marsh. Return me to these waters, to the gr asses and the tidelands, where there is no such thing as death, only the cycles sof life. Make my marker a lush stand of cordgrass. Watch it wave in the breeze, observe how it catches the light, and think of me.”

These words narrated by Meryl Streep and written by Curtis J. Badger in Salt Tide, his memoir and narrative on the last unspoiled barrier island ecosystem in the eastern United States, introduce the Cape Lookout Visitors Center film “Ribbons of Sand” and succinctly capture a sense of our daily 360 degree horizon. We are surrounded by waters and waves, grasses and sand dunes. Off in the distance on all sides we see the islands.

Hillary stands on a section of the beach just down from the black and white diamond patterned Cape Lookout Lighthouse. Instead of a snow fence, the sand fence has been erected to reduce the erosion from the powerful winds that lambast the beaches from all sides. A twenty minute powerboat ride delivered us to this island, and Carol marched all the way to the top of the lighthouse, 207 steps up. The view from the top is spectacular, 360 degrees including Shackleford Island to see the ponies, all the way to neighboring towns of Beaufort and Morehead City.

We are in a maritime culture, not "southern" in the classic sense of the word.  Someone said this is much more like the maritime regions of northeastern United States.  But this is OLD.  Dates can be found  since the 1500s of Spanish days.  The ports have been defensive and offensive sites including Civil War and World War II where about 100 boats were sunk of Fort Macon.  Cape Lookout Island, on which the lighthouse stands was a military base as late as World War II.  

Saturday night's visit to the Tyron Palace in New Bern, NC, only reinforced the "old-ness" of this area.  The palace was the home for the Carolinas governor, appointed by the King of England and built in the 1770s.  Even though parts were destroyed by fire, the entire three block area stands in tribute to the first colonial governors.  All this was going on down here while the fur trade industry was in its heyday in Grand Portage.  It's a helpful comparison! 

December Sunday on the Outer Banks

We arrived on Harkers Island on Friday afternoon after a rather exciting drive through West Virginia, a smidgeon of Virginia and kitty-corner across North Carolina down to Cape Look-out National Seashore.  We discovered that a 55 mph speed limit is only a suggestion and that 70-80 is much more appropriate, especially in construction zones and for the 18-wheelers bearing gifts for WalMart.  The hills of these states are lovely, and finally sloped out as we neared the coastline.

What a sight this site is.  Horizon view like you would not believe, sunrise to stun, green everywhere.  Such a context for Christmas carols that accompany us as we walked along the streets of Beaufort and Morehead City, North Carolina.  We have learned that Beaufort is pronounced "bow fort," not as we had been saying it.  We have much else to learn, we are certain.

The wild horses of Shackleford are but a 5 minute ferry ride from us and we are hoping to make that trek as well as out to the over-200 steps Cape Look-out Lighthouse on Monday or Tuesday.  This lighthouse will make our mere 98 step effort of Au Sable a breeze.  I've heard that the volunteers are positioned up the lighthouse by landings so no one has to make the full 200 steps on each tour, and that would be one-way! 

Today we went exploring the costal area with our housemate and went to discover a small grocery store that sells organic products which are few and far between down here.   We thought that was kind of him to take us there; he self describes as a conservative republican who has 6 guns and a confederate flag and lives in Florida with his wife but also years ago served in the Peace Corp.  After the grocery store we went to Fort Macon which was used off and on since 1820's until WW2 where they protected the coast from German attack.  There were actually over 100 boats sunk by Germans during WW2 off this coast.

On the way back to our cabin we ran into a Christmas parade complete with marching bands, the Lions Club doing wheelies in their toy boats and Jesus who also made the parade. 

Tomorrow we begin our work duties and will provide more insights into this region.  It is called Down East and that is where we are where it has been unusually warm, about 70 and the humidity drips off the trees.

Here are a couple photos of our new digs:

Snapshots

Friday, May 2

As we pack up to leave tomorrow morning, Hillary writes. 
This volunteer opportunity is coming to a close, and I would like to share some of the snapshots we have gleaned from our experience.  Our last project - digitizing original manuscripts, letters, ledgers, and other documents has been quite amazing.  Carol lines up the camera, centering the lens on the document, adjusting the four lights, and I wear the white gloves to turn the pages.  We have been working our way through the ledgers of the letters received by the Superintendent of Stones River National Cemetery, starting in the 1870s.  The National Cemetery was created about sixty years before the battlefield became a national park.  As we read the ledger, while taking the photographs, we are struck b y the beautiful cursive hand-writing.  Does anyone remember penmanship classes??  The writing style is military formal; letters are begun, "I have the honor of responding to your letter which was received on ... and am pleased to inform you ..."

We have learned about an aging mule, twenty-years-old, "broken" and in need of replacement, but held dearly in the Superintendent's heart.  He requests instruction on how to handle this.  Another letter responded to a request from the Secretary of War (cemeteries were under the War Department!) to investigate a report of the discovery of the remains of a Union soldier in a field about 26 miles away, about 28 years after the war ended.  We read how he hired a horse and buggy to get over to Rover, Tennessee, to investigate this report and indeed was able to confirm the report, disinter the remains, "fetch it over to Stones River" and re-inter.  These letters provide minute snapshots into the formative years of Stones River National Cemetery, now the resting place of over 6100 Civil War victims.

Another snapshot has to do with the many and various points of view of the visitors who bring their own stories.  What was most unusual this week is the man who informed me that the sign indicating that 81,000 Americans fought here was "wrong."  He proceeded to inform me that he was from the North - Minnesota, in fact - and that southerners were not American.  I told him that we were all Americans, that I am also from the North, and that this battle was between Americans who held very different perspectives on the subject of slavery.  It was rather than odd sense to have to defend the South against his charge of "traitors" but as Park employees, we are committed to telling the Park story and allow a variety of opinions on a sensitive subject, not making it "wrong."

The last snapshot is that we actually got to see the original document of loyalty to the Union that southerners were forced to sign if they wanted to operate a business in the South.  It included a statement of loyalty and commitment to the Union as well as a promised not to own slaves.  This document was required of all those in the South wanted to operate businesses, even preachers, and failure to sign could result in imprisonment or inability to operate a business.  One story is of a Nashville banker who refused to sign and was imprisoned for about a year, returning to discover that his bank no longer existed.

These are our parting snapshots.

Birmingham, Bombingham, "The Magic City"

Monday, April 28

Saturday morning we drove down to Birmingham, Alabama, to join the Edina Community Lutheran Church Civil Rights Tour, led by Mark and Leslie Swiggum.  They flew to Atlanta that morning, stopping for lunch at Anniston, AL, the site of one of the first freedom bus bombings.  First stop was Rickman Field in Birmingham, older than Wrigley Field, where black and white baseball was played on alternate days.  Photos of Willie Mays, Jackie Robinson, Babe Ruth and many others lined the walls, and we heard the story of Harman Killebrew's playing, as well as his return shortly before he died.  Imagine our surprise when we heard that Bull Connor started his career as the announcer for those games, making his name most recognizable on the ballot for Police Commissioner back in the 1960s.  That, of course, is only an introduction to the story.

Myrna Jackson was a "foot soldier" in the movement in the 1960s and shared story after story with us when we arrived downtown from the baseball field.  Jailed for two weeks at the height of the marches, she told of all mattresses removed from the cells when they came, as if there were beds for everyone anyway.  One day the guards brought in huge fans and blasted the cell with cold air which those in the next cell were blasted with hot air from several heaters that were turned on them.  She told of the "mass meetings" held in six different churches to plan for the "C," the nonviolent confrontations to march from 16th Street Baptist.  When it came time for the altar call during those meetings, they were used as opportunities to "commit" to the movement.  Individuals were then led into small groups where their commitment to nonviolence was tested.  If one was deemed to qualify, he/she was sent on to another group for more intense training.  If not able to commit to nonviolence, that individual was not allowed to continue.

Sunday morning we met Myrna in Kelly Ingram Park, kitty-corner from 16th Street Baptist.  As we walked through the park, she gave us more stories of her experiences and her interpretations of how the park had come to be, what was included, and what is yet to come.

Each of these photos speaks for itself, noting the shoes of the second sculpture.  We were told that their shoes became the means of identification of the girls killed in the bombing.  You can see 16th St Baptist in this photo of the three preachers praying prior to one of the marches.

Across the street the Birmingham Civil Rights Institute, opened just two years ago, tells the powerful story of the 1960s.  One could clearly spend a half day examining each display, listening to each tape, watching each piece of footage.

Begun by immigrants, Birmingham quickly capitalized on the available labor force to become "The Magic City" of the south, an industrial giant of steel and coal, but as the  industry slowed, the once-thriving city lost population, but the now middle class immigrants and blacks demanded full standing in the city.  The ruling class of whites did not agree and the "Bombingham" title was easily applied.  Not only was 16th Street Baptist bombed, several other churches and parsonages were hit, as was the motel room in which Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., was staying, just a block from the church.  Amazingly, the bomb was planted in his room specifically, but he had already left the city.

How to think about all this?   As Myrna Jackson observed, "The more things change, the more they stay the same."