Photo Essays

Stopping Along a Trail on the Way to a Waterfall ...

… with apologies to Robert Frost.

The first sign indicated the waterfall was a half mile away. Almost a mile down the trail, the second sign had an arrow with the message that the falls were only a half mile away.

This was clearly a message that the journey was the destination.

The magnetic field of the lens was first drawn to a patch of mountain wildflowers.

It has been observed that the focus of Ansel Adams’ images changed when he began traversing the Southwest with a station wagon instead of with pack mules. With the pack mules, he often had more close-up details in photographs. With the station wagon, moving from place to place more quickly, his cameras recorded more panoramic scenes.

Walking, one probably sees more details than trying to keep up with pack mules.

Someone, perhaps a resident along the trail, had left messages nailed to trees. The first message seemed so appropriate for this journey. It seemed to cry out, take advantage of this walk, though longer than a half mile.

There are times when it’s okay to look at the trees instead of the forest.

Nature, wrapped around man’s creation, indicates that nature can overcome some of man’s doing.

Little details reveal the seemingly infinite variety of the universe.

Nature will attack and attach to man’s efforts to contain and control.

What a journey, what a destination.

Einstein made an observation which is very sobering, an observation made long before the advent of the internet or cell phones.

One can hope that a walk through the woods to a waterfall can soften the negative impacts of technology on humanity.

Sunrise ... Sunset

People will look at a photo of either a sunrise or a sunset, and in my experience most often say, “Oh, what a pretty sunset.”

Most of the time, the viewer is exclaiming at a sunrise when they are praising the image of a what they think is a sunset.

Just as one man’s trash is another man’s treasure, one man’s sunset is another man’s sunrise who lives in different time zone on the globe.

Sunrises may be exhilarating, sunsets may be tranquil. Both, both stimulate and soothe the soul and spirit of mankind.

The uplifting sunrise, dawning of a new day and new opportunities yields to the sunset, which promises yet another sunrise after a night’s rest for mind and body.

Those familiar with a particular piece of geography can usually discern a sunrise and a sunset by knowing where the sun rises on that little piece of the world.

One sunrise on the Neuse River that will forever fill up my senses, with apologies to John Denver.

Oyster Harvest

Ben Casey recently spent an entire day on an oyster boat for the purpose of creating a photo-essay on this coastal tradition and way of life.

Ever caught a fish that was undersized that had to be thrown back? What did you say? Probably something like this, “Manure, he’s too small.”

Guess what Bud Bennett, commercial fisherman from Lowland, said when his oyster dredge raked up a fairly significant number of spats, baby oysters? Word for word, he said, “I’m so glad to see these babies. That means there’ll be some here next year and the year after that.”

Kind of contradicts what some would stereotype as a response from a commercial fisherman trying to harvest as much as possible – doesn’t it? But Bud Bennett is a man with a vision for the future and constructive ways to protect that future.

Bud’s wife, Zoe, quit a low-paying job to become a full time student at Pamlico Community College. She wants to become a teacher to create not only more financial stability for the family, but to enhance the quality of life for their two daughters. Bud is working in high gear to support her efforts.

“I’m really proud of her. This is going to pay off for the whole family,” he said. Recalling the notion that it takes a village to raise a child, in this case it takes a hard working fisherman to provide educational opportunities at PCC for his wife and family.

Bud’s typical day begins with an hour and a half commute. It’s a long ride that takes a lot of fuel, but he doesn’t fight traffic at intersections. He has peace and solitude as he scans the horizon anticipating another dramatic sunrise over the water.

Of course, there are days when the bow spray freezes to the windshield almost before it hits the glass. That did not happen this day as the early morning temps were in the mid-thirties, just above freezing. The wind chill was a different matter.

Also, on this day, the swells were less than three feet. Some days they are bigger, much bigger. Some days, the swells are accompanied by horizontal rain. Some days there are icicles hanging from the rigging. Some days are so foggy it is hard to see other boats working near your boat.

And some days, things just break down. It’s hard to see all that fuel burned with nothing to take to the dock. But today was going to be a good day.

With the aid of electronic gadgetry, he discovers that the riverbed beneath him has changed in shape. He has found a rock, or what most would call an oyster bed. Clothed in many layers, he steps out onto the deck in the bone-chilling wind. A few preparations and the dredge goes overboard. The dredge is a rake about 4 feet wide leading a rope bag designed to hold a hundred pounds of this culinary delight.

Guiding the boat in circles around the rock with one eye on the boat’s path and one hand on the wheel, his other eye and hand focus on the lines of the dredge. Not too hard a job on those calm days – but many days are not calm.

Soon he pulls in the dredge to dump the catch on a culling tray – not a job for those with spaghetti arms or weak backs. Not a really hard job until you think about doing it over and over and over hour after hour after hour.

Now begins the tedious task of culling out small oysters and boxes. Boxes are hollow oysters, life inside having passed on to the oyster bed in the sky. Bud’s efforts at culling are beyond the average. He uses the heavy iron device designed to measure the size of the oysters to knock off spats or other undesirable shell parts. He likes to fill his oyster bags with select singles, not clusters of oysters that are hard to open or marginal in size.

“If you give the man at the dock a bag of good oysters, you don’t have to worry about him dropping you as one of his producers, and, you don’t have to worry about the man,” he said. The ‘man,’ of course, is that man who wears a gray uniform and a badge. He can confiscate your catch if you are over the limit of 15 bushels per day or if the bushels have too high a percentage of spats or boxes.

The story of Bud Bennett does not end with how hard he works or how well he does his job. Those commodities speak for themselves when his harvest is unloaded at the dock.

The story of Bud Bennett begins with his foresight, his desire and willingness to learn and work at improving not just the harvest, but also the methods for the harvest. That’s where his vision for understanding best practices to protect the future comes to light.

Bud says, “We would be a whole lot better off if Marine Fisheries spent more time enforcing good habits instead of changing regulations, catch limits, and times you can work. Right now, I deal with their view of what areas to open and close and when to open and close them. I’m limited to fifteen bushels per day and I can only dredge between sun-up and 2 PM.

“If I am limited to fifteen bushels, why do I have to quit at 2:00? Why can’t I have all day to get those 15 bushels without the pressure of rushing and maybe getting hurt? Some rules make for waste. Other rules make it unsafe out here as people try to get their limit following those rules. There have been two collisions out here already this year.”

Bud also expressed doubt about how some really try to follow the rules. He thoughtfully proclaimed, “Do the math. How can a trawler twice the size of my boat come out here with 2 or 3 crew and make anything with that kind of overhead on just 15 bushels. You do the math.”

His concern for how rules are brought about also extended to the Brant Island Shoal bombing range. He observed, “They don’t bomb out there every day. So why can’t we fish out there on days they are not bombing. There are acres and acres of oyster beds out there where oysters are dying and going to waste. That’s a food source that’s going to waste.”

He added, “I just think Marine Fisheries ought to focus on what really helps a man do the job better. Doing this job better should be a regulation that would protect the stocks. For example, you are not doing a better job when you do straight line dredging instead of circling the rock. With straight line dredging, you are not replenishing the rock itself with the spats and other culls.

“And what about those people who harvest in one site and dump their culls no where near the rock where they did their harvesting. I dump my culls right then and there where I am dredging. That’s what I mean about Marine Fisheries making sure people do the job better with regulations that really matter.”

Bud Bennett cares about his future, his family’s future, and the future of the industry he loves. What drives his passion? His ancestors passed on more than a surname. They passed on a way of life.