Taking the Long Way Home
My husband Rob and I crossed the Bonner Bridge going north at approximately 1pm on Tuesday afternoon. It turned out to be a dumb thing to do.
We were in the Wanchese Seafood Industrial Park when the news broke. Having finished my New Yorker, I decided to see if the boatyard had internet access so I could amuse myself with some social media. But first, of course, I looked at my phone.
It was all lit up with texts and Facebook alerts about the closing of the Bonner Bridge. “WTF?” I thought. We just drove over it, and although there were some official looking people standing around the top of the span, they offered NO CLUE that the bridge was about to be closed behind us. No warning signs, no traffics stops, no blinking lights, nothing at all. NOTHING. Nothing to draw my eyes away from the beautiful shade of blue that Oregon Inlet happened to be yesterday. When Rob mused, “Why are they looking at the top of the bridge? I thought the bottom was the bad part.” I said, “I don’t like to think about the bridge when I’m on it. Look at the water; it’s so beautiful today.” Then I lamented about having to spend such a pretty day in the car.
Little did I know how long this pretty day in the car would be.
Thanks to Jenny’s fast work posting the NCDOT press release, I was able to read on the Current about the bridge closing. Right away I called the Hatteras ferry office to inquire about getting home by way of the emergency ferry route from Stumpy Point to Rodanthe. The woman I spoke to told me a ferry would run from Stumpy Point to Rodanthe at 9:30pm. She also told me that I’d better get there soon because lots of people were calling and the ferry only holds about 30 cars.
We skedaddled, stopping only long enough to get a pizza from Garden Pizzeria (yum!) in Manteo, and drove on to Stumpy Point. This was only my second visit to metropolitan, downtown Stumpy Point, and I have to say, I find it very charming. (Digression: Jenny says she’s going to spend a week there and write about it. Please encourage her!) We drove all the way to the end of the village road where it dead-ends into Pamlico Sound and/or the parking lot of the only apparent commercial establishment in Stumpy Point.
Rob sent me in for directions. The charming proprietor was smoking and painting, and his artwork adorned the walls of the store. Even in my haste to get in line for Ocracoke, I paused to compliment his work and chat. He told me I was the third person that day to ask how to find the Stumpy Point ferry. I told him to expect many more of us. I also told him that I wished I could stay longer, and he told me I wasn’t missing much. “It’s quiet around here,” he said.
As it turns out, the Stumpy Point ferry is not actually in the village of Stumpy Point. It’s a little farther west down 264 – you make a left at the unmarked road with a little shack on the corner, and if you get to the bridge, you’ve gone too far.
My new friend said there would be a sign directing ferry passenger wannabes. There was no sign. Why was there no sign? Perhaps there is by now. (By 6pm there was no need for a sign; the line for the ferry stretched down the ferry road and along 264 all the way to the entrance to Stumpy Point proper. The flashing blue lights of the deputies’ vehicles were also hard to miss.)
We arrived at the ferry landing at 4:30pm, assuring ourselves the 6th place in line. Yay! The friendly face of Jen Buday (4th in line) greeted us, and with five hours to kill, we started sharing the rumors we’d heard.
And what rumors they were! The coconut telegraph was burning down the lines at the ferry landing. No one knew what the real story was, and if there was an official word from an official-looking person in uniform, that word was subject to change moments later. It was, as Rob dubbed it, something of a “cluster-ferry.”
I wasn’t really in reporter mode, content to be just another poor slob in line. The journalist in me did feel a slight need to take a few pictures (the arrival of the porta-johns was an exciting development!) and post them on Facebook until my phone died. Then I just waited with the rest.
A ferry arrived! It docked up, and stayed there. Then the word came down from on high that the ferry couldn’t run because it didn’t have enough crew. Then we heard that Ocracoke residents would not be able to board on a first-come, first-served basis (as promised on the NCDOT website), because priority would be given to Hatteras islanders. “WTF?” again! How could they leave us behind? With nearly 100 cars in line, it was apparent that we would not all fit on the first ferry. Would they run another? Maybe. Maybe at 3:30am. Maybe at 5am. Maybe not.
I got out my pen and notebook and started walking the line of cars. I talked to several people who wished to remain anonymous. Then I talked to Cleveland Gibbs of the ferry service. I asked him if he could tell me what was going on. He just laughed and said, “Maybe you can tell me!” But he was actually very helpful. Mr. Gibbs was sent to Stumpy Point from Swan Quarter, where he’d been working ashore until the call came in about the Bonner Bridge. He said the boat was sitting at the dock because its crew had already worked a full day per Coast Guard regulations. The night crew would arrive at 9:30, load and leave. The sheriff’s department told him that Hatteras residents would get first priority. 30-35 cars can fit on the ferry, and it can take up to 300 passengers. Walk-ons were welcome. He said he hoped they’d be able to fit in two or three trips tonight.
A call to Hyde County manager Bill Rich confirmed that Dare County Emergency Management gets to make the decision about who can and can’t travel by way of Stumpy Point to Rodanthe. Bill said he would be in on a conference call about the bridge/ferry fiasco and asked me to stand by for more information. Meanwhile, I commiserated with the masses.
Rose Weigel is a Hatteras resident who was 2nd in line. She was unhappy with the situation and willing to go on the record about it.
“They have known this was coming for years,” she said. “They should’ve had ferries here, but nothing’s in place. They knew this was coming and could’ve had ferries here yesterday.”
Ms Weigel is concerned for the residents of Hatteras Island. “The bridge is collapsing, there are no jobs on Hatteras because the season’s over, and the state took our extended unemployment away,” she said. “I think it’s wrong, just wrong.” Ms Weigel says she voted for Governor McCrory but writes to him every week to express disappointment in his administration. “Somebody better get on the ball,” she added.
A resident Hatterasman said that the estimated bridge closing time of 6 – 8 weeks would be more likely to be 6 – 8 years. “Unless you can change the current in Oregon Inlet, you can’t pump enough sand in there to fix this.”
He expressed his disappointment with the oblivious public, who happily ignore reality and don’t get involved.
“People never seem to get concerned about something ‘til it happens,” he said, referring to the Bonner Bridge, and everything else. “They are callous when it comes to electing officials, and that starts with the President on down!”
A Hatteraswoman said she was amazed that the ferry division didn’t have a crew ready on standby for this emergency they’d been preparing for since last week.
“If you had a bridge club, and one of the ladies couldn’t play cards, you’d call somebody else!” she exclaimed. “If this crew can’t work any more, why don’t the ferries call someone else?”
I joined the huddle around the men in uniform. Dare County sheriff’s deputy David Mason II spoke to a group of ferry personnel, to me, to some other members of the public, and then spoke on camera to the news team from WVEC (Channel 13), the ABC affiliate in Norfolk. Among the statements he made were:
“Residents of Dare County will get priority.”
“I made the decision to let Hatteras folks get back home.”
“Everybody wants to be priority. Somebody’s going to be unhappy.”
“I can’t guarantee that you can get on a ferry. The line goes back to Stumpy Point. Most of the folks in line are over 65 and need to get home."
“Anyone can walk on the ferry and leave their cars here.”
“I don’t see the situation getting any better.”
“Ocracoke residents should have gone to the 4 o’clock Swan Quarter ferry.”
“If you don’t like the situation, there’s the road.” (That was directed at me for my persistent, perhaps even belligerent, insistence that Ocracoke residents should also have the right to ride the emergency ferry along with Hatteras islanders.)
Then Bill Rich called and assured me that there were no priorities whatsoever, with the exception of medical emergencies, fuel deliveries, and trash removal. He said that Dare County Emergency Management was the only entity that could make those decisions, but so far they hadn't restricted access, and that Deputy Mason would be apprised of the situation. Thanks, Bill!
It took some time for Deputy Mason to see things the way Bill and I did, but eventually he came around, and I was happy to give him the pleasure of telling me I could board the vessel 6th in line (ahead of many people no doubt more deserving.)
We loaded at 9:30 and got underway. The ride was blissfully uneventful, and took exactly two hours. The gracious, informative, and accommodating Hatteras ferry personnel promised to hold the midnight ferry until 12:30 so the four cars coming from Stumpy Point/Rodanthe could make it. And we did!
We thought our lucky streak might be running out when the ferry struck bottom in the channel, but it was a temporary grounding and we kept chugging along. Ocracoke was in our sights!
Home again, home again at 1:30am.
After reflecting on the day’s events, I must say that I am disappointed in NCDOT’s communication with the public, their own employees, and the emergency management team.
We should have been warned before crossing the Bonner Bridge. We crossed only an hour before the closure happened. Surely, NCDOT had some inkling of what was going on. They could’ve stopped cars and let them know that closure was an imminent possibility. Choices could have been made.
Why didn’t the ferry division have someone stationed at Stumpy Point who could answer questions? When the first people started lining up, they were told that the ferry would not run on Tuesday. These folks had been told by the Dare County sheriff’s office, the 1-800-BYFERRY hotline, or (in my case) the Hatteras ferry office that the Stumpy Point ferry would run. Why didn’t anyone tell the security personnel in Stumpy Point?
In this day of cell phones, texts, and Twitter, why was there so much misinformation? (Another WTF moment: I was told by a deputy that his county-issued cell phone doesn’t have service in Stumpy Point. Note to Dare County: try Verizon.)
The ferry personnel were all friendly and helpful, and tried to answer questions as best they could. I wish I could say the same about the Dare County sheriff’s deputies, but I do realize that they, too, were having a long and difficult day, and were also suffering from boatloads of misinformation.
I often like to remind myself that my problems are mostly first world problems, and yesterday was a good example. I was at all times safe, fed, and sheltered, and my kids were being well cared-for on Ocracoke. It was five hours of tedium and misinformation, but at least I got a story out of it.
Stay tuned to the Current for updates on the ferries, roads, and bridges!
