Second and final in a series

As the North Carolina Coastal Resources Commission’s Science Panel studies the effects of permanent beach erosion control structures such as seawalls and jetties, a critical aspect of the analysis will be looking at the lessons learned.

The commission banned hardened structures on the ocean shoreline in 1985 because of the down-shore erosive effects on the beach. Still, there are numerous examples of such structures in place along different parts of the coast, with varied degrees of effectiveness.

Erosion is not only more severe and longstanding on the Outer Banks, which are more exposed to the power of the open ocean and coastal storms than other parts of the North Carolina coast, it is the most dramatic and unforgiving, especially on Hatteras and Ocracoke islands. But coastal erosion is a statewide issue. To that point, federal beach nourishment projects in North Carolina began in 1965 at Wrightsville Beach and at Carolina Beach, and nourishment at both locations has been done in recent years.

When development and tourism took off on the Outer Banks in the 1980s, it didn’t take long before beach cottages began lining ocean shorelines.

Still, the forces of erosion had no mercy, and Kitty Hawk began losing beachfront properties. After the commission issued a variance to the hardened structures ban in 2003, permitting sheet-piling along N.C. Highway 12 in the beach community, then-Sen. Marc Basnight strongarmed the state’s ban into legislation.

Then in 2011, the North Carolina General Assembly passed a law that permitted four “test” terminal groins and has since expanded the permissible number of groins to seven. To date, four communities submitted permit applications: Figure Eight Island, Ocean Isle Beach, Bald Head Island and Holden Beach. Holden Beach has since withdrawn its application.

Long before the ban, numerous attempts were made to shore up the beach oceanward of the 1870 Cape Hatteras Lighthouse in Buxton. By 1930, the nation’s tallest brick lighthouse was a mere 98 feet from the ocean.

According to National Park Service records, interlocking steel sheet-pile groins were installed in the 1930s on the beach near the lighthouse and reinforced a few years later. Over the years, dunes were built, grasses were planted, the beach was nourished, revetment and sandbag walls were installed.

In 1969, the U.S. Navy installed three reinforced concrete groins to protect its base, which was adjacent to the lighthouse at the time. But the erosion continued. More sandbags were put in place; more beach nourishment was done. The Navy left in the 1980s. While the National Park Service officially gave up its beach nourishment and dune stabilization efforts in 1973, it continued trying in ensuing years to protect the lighthouse from the sea with rip-rap, artificial seagrass, sandbags and a scour-mat apron.

Finally, after much study and public debate, with the ocean lapping at its foundation, in 1999 the lighthouse was relocated about a half mile from the beach.

Fast-forward a quarter-century and, since September 2025, 19 unoccupied beach houses near that same beach in Buxton have collapsed into the ocean.

Escalating beach erosion along the state’s entire coast, but especially in Buxton, has put difficult discussions about lifting the hardened shorelines ban back on the table. The few existing permanent erosion-control structures built over the years on North Carolina beaches have yielded mixed results.

Oregon Inlet

One of the most successful examples of a terminal groin doing what it was intended to do, and with relatively minimal harm, is the 3,125-foot terminal groin and 625-foot revetment built in 1991 to protect the N.C. Highway 12 tie-in at the Herbert C. Bonner Bridge, which has since been replaced and renamed the Marc Basnight Bridge. The $13.4 million groin is substantial — ranging from 110 to 170 feet wide at its base and 25 feet wide at its landward end, and 39 feet wide at its seaward end — and was built to withstand waves as high as 15 feet, according to an analysis done by the state Division of Coastal Management, “North Carolina’s Terminal Groins at Oregon Inlet and Fort Macon,  Descriptions and Discussions.”

Located on the south side of Oregon Inlet at the north edge of Pea Island National Wildlife Refuge land, the groin placement encouraged sand buildup, or accretion, landward, resulting in a wide expansion of 50 acres of sandy property on the inlet side of the historic state-owned Oregon Inlet Life-Saving Station. The building is vacant, but has been weatherized to preserve it for future use.

The groin site and surrounding beach have been regularly monitored by state and federal coastal scientists. Studies have shown that the structure has likely increased shoaling of a spit on the Bodie island side and deepening of the channel. Yet, the groin has cause little if any destructive downstream erosion while adequately protecting the highway and bridge infrastructure.

But the report warned that within the next 20 years or so, the continued southward migration of the Bodie Island spit could push the inlet’s main navigational channel up against the terminal groin structure itself.

“If this were to occur, the result would be severe scour and an increase in the maintenance necessary to preserve the threatened integrity of the structure itself,” according to the document.

Beaufort Inlet/Fort Macon

Since Fort Macon was constructed in 1834, about 25 erosion-control structures adjacent to Beaufort Inlet have been built, including groins, breakwaters, timber cribbing, sand-fencing and seawalls, as well as multiple beach nourishment projects, according to the terminal groin report.  The first phase of the terminal groin project began in 1961 and included a 530-foot seawall, a 250-foot revetment and 720-foot long, 6-foot-high terminal groin. Phase II, beginning in 1965, extended the groin 410 feet oceanward, and another groin was built west of the revetment to address extensive soundside erosion, while 93,000 cubic yards of sand was placed on the ocean beach.

The third phase, started in 1970, extended the terminal groin another 400 feet, to a total of 1,530 feet long. A 480-foot-long stone groin was built to stabilize the beach fill, and another 100,000 cubic yards of sand was placed on the ocean beach. Total costs for the three-phase project was $1.35 million.

Effects of the project include increased wave energy along the Fort Macon State Park and Bogue Banks area, and continued increases in wave energy were predicted. A sediment deficit has created erosion on the inlet’s western shoreline. Meanwhile, the sand spit at Fort Macon has migrated into the western bank of the navigation channel, indicating that the terminal groin has become inefficient at trapping sediment.

“Without constant beach nourishment, the terminal groin would no longer perform as observed historically and potentially fail altogether,” the report concluded.

Buxton

Dare County is planning a nourishment project in Buxton, as well as restoration of one of the Navy’s three abandoned reinforced sheet-pile groins that had been installed in 1969. According to the recent application to repair the southernmost groin, which is 50% or more intact, that groin had been lengthened in 1982 on the landward side by 300 feet, and armor stone was added two years later. New sheet piles and additional scour protection were added to the structures in 1994. The other two groins in the original groin field are too damaged to qualify under the Coastal Resources Commission’s “50% rule” that permits repairs.

Dare County Manager Bobby Outten has said publicly that the county is under no illusions that the project planned for this summer will solve the erosion issue for good. But the hope is that it will serve as a Band-Aid long enough to find a more permanent solution to erosion that is now so severe it is threatening the livelihoods of community residents and the island’s tourism economy, as well as N.C Highway 12.

Retired East Carolina University professor and veteran coastal geologist Dr. Stanley Riggs, who has studied the Outer Banks since the 1970s, agreed that the fact that the lighthouse had to be relocated to save it illustrates why Buxton’s erosion is not going to be easy to tame for long, with or without groins. When the first coastal survey from Virginia to Ocracoke was done in 1852, the original 1802 Cape Hatteras Lighthouse, which was destroyed, had been 1,000 feet from the shoreline, Riggs recently told Coastal Review. All told, the shoreline has receded 3,000 feet, or about two-thirds of a mile, at the cape, he said.

“And it’s been constant,” Riggs said. “It oscillates a little bit, but the main direction has been constant.”

As Riggs explained, offshore just north of the motel area in Buxton, there is an underwater rock structure that is set at an oblique angle relative to the barrier island. Similar “old capes” are also off Avon and Rodanthe, he said. The rocks are under as much as 50 feet of water, and they dictate how the waves refract there.

“And so, if you fly over it, and you get the right angle down there, what you see is a series of cusps, and one side of that cusp will be stable, the other side will be highly erosional,” he said. Groins will only make the eroding side erode faster. And when there are permanent or semipermanent structures along the beach, the shore face — the part that is under water — starts to erode and gets steeper and steeper, he said. And the steeper it gets, the more severe the overwash and the more difficult it is to hold the sand in place. That’s a big reason why beach nourishment is having to be done more frequently.

Not only does the Outer Banks stick out farther into the Atlantic, there is also a narrower continental shelf, which allows the bigger waves to come ashore from the open ocean without the wider “speed bump” needed to dissipate the power.

There’s no negotiating with the ocean, Riggs said. Considering the combination of coastal dynamics at play in Buxton, efforts to control erosion will continue to fail.

“It’s that land-sea-air interface that is really the highest energy place that we’ve got on our planet,” Riggs said. “And there’s some things you can do there. There’s some things you shouldn’t do there, you can’t do there, and it’s a matter of understanding how that system works.”

Ocracoke Island

A persistent erosion hot spot on the north end of the island along N.C. Highway 12, the only road between the Hatteras Ferry Docks and Ocracoke Village, has been patched on and off for decades by increasing numbers of ever larger numbers and size of sandbags.

But even the type of large, new, trapezoidal bags permitted at Ocracoke, Pea Island and Mirlo Beach have not held up as expected, according to a presentation provided by Paul Williams of the North Carolina Department of Transportation at the February Coastal Resources Commission meeting.

Williams presented details at the meeting of NCDOT’s revised request to increase the base of the sandbags from 20 to 30 feet and the height from 6 feet to 10 feet, to better protect them from being undermined by waves.

The newer bags have open ends at the top, which proved to be a problem at Pea Island, Williams told the commission. The Pea Island Refuge at the Visitor Center, he added, faces similar risks now to that seen at Mirlo Beach in Rodanthe in the years before the hotspot was bypassed with completion of the Rodanthe “Jug-Handle” Bridge.

“The performance has not been what we anticipated,” he said, describing how they were flooded at the top, which caused the sandbags to deflate. “This product, there may be some modifications that can be made to make them more resilient.”

Some of the new bags were also installed along with traditional sandbags at Ocracoke, and they’re still covered, Williams said, but roughly 1 mile of sandbags along N.C. 12 are at risk of being undermined during the next big storm.

“So it’s basically to give us more latitude on different products, to try to protect the roadway out there better than traditional sandbags have,” Willams told Coastal Review after the meeting. “We’ve used them for decades out there, and especially Mirlo, they really got tossed around during storms. We were looking to find a more resilient product, and we’re working on evaluating other options out there.”

The new sandbags with an opening at the top are quicker to fill, he said. They’ve worked at other areas, but conditions elsewhere are not as fierce.

“When you’re on the Outer Banks, you’re under constant pressure during some of these storm events, because we’ll have a storm set up on the coast and grind for days at a time,” Williams said. “And every tide cycle is just steadily pulling sand out of the bags, and we need to have some way to stop that.”

Even though many of the traditional sandbags without the troublesome opening are still in place at Ocracoke, Williams said that about half of them, or about 1,000, have been exposed and need to be replaced. Another issue on the island is the limited amount of sand available to cover.

Sandbags, which are considered temporary erosion-control structures that are permitted parallel to shore to protect imminently threatened roads or structures, have rules about color and size, but those rules have been notoriously abused with regard to the “temporary” part, with extensions often adding up to decades at a site, making them “hardened structures” in everything but name.

Before Nags Head in 2011 started nourishing its eroded beaches in South Nags Head, for instance, even battered and torn sandbags weren’t removed for years, and property owners often successfully sued the state to keep longstanding stacked rows of protective bags in place in front of their oceanfront homes on the eroded beach.

As sea levels continue to rise, storms intensify and erosion accelerates, even sandbags as fallbacks in the absence of other impermissible erosion-control structures are becoming less effective, as evidenced by photographs of huge piles of sandbags lined up against undermined houses at North Topsail Beach.

Ocean Isle Beach

Responding to the state legislature’s repeal of the ban on hardened erosion-control structures on the coast, Ocean Isle Beach in 2011 began the planning process to pursue permits to install a terminal groin at Shallotte Inlet to stem erosion that for decades had chewed away at the island’s east end. Five years later, state and federal approval was in hand to build a 750-foot-long terminal groin, but environmental groups in 2017 filed a lawsuit to stop the project. A ruling in March 2021 in the 4th Circuit U.S. Court of Appeals affirmed a lower court’s ruling that the project alternatives were properly considered. By April 2022, the $11 million terminal groin was completed.

Today, a diminished beach remains in front of multi-million-dollar homes that were built after the groin was in place. Rows of sandbags block the surf from reaching some of the oceanfront homes, and several lots remain vacant because there is no longer enough property left to meet setback requirements.

In November, the Coastal Resources Commission allowed the owners of eroding vacant oceanfront lots to use larger sandbags to protect their properties.

Interest in future terminal groins

The Village of Bald Head Island, the first community to build a terminal groin after the “test groin” law passed, was issued a permit in October 2014 to build the erosion-control structure, which was completed in 2015.

North Carolina Department of Environmental Quality monitoring of the project after its completion did not turn up significant issues requiring corrective measures, according to its January 2024 report.

“While ongoing post-construction monitoring performed by the permittee has not identified any significant issues that would require corrective or mitigative measures, the Village performed a maintenance beach nourishment event, received nourishment from the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers’ regularly scheduled Wilmington Harbor maintenance project, and is currently seeking permit authorization for a second Village-sponsored maintenance nourishment event,” according to the document.

Six other communities have expressed “varying degrees” of interest in building a terminal groin project, including North Topsail Beach and Figure Eight Island, as noted in the report.

I’m now in my 60th year of life. I started fishing before I was even old enough to have a memory of it.

I’ve been fly fishing since I was 10 years old. The math is pretty easy. During that time I’ve lived in North Carolina for 30 of those years, again, easy math. However, it never fails that since I’ve been here, people will say to me, “Flyfishing? Where do you do that ’round these parts?”

Inevitably it leads to awkward conversation and ends up with me trying to explain something that is not easily explained.

First off, all I’ll say, and trying to not sound braggadocious here, but I have caught 71 different species of fish with a fly and fly rod. I’m talking about the smallest thing you can think of up to and including the biggest things a person can catch in sight of land.

In this age you can fish anywhere you dream of, with the only limit being your pockets. I once knew a man in Beaufort who only fished in Montana, and I’ve fished with guys from Raleigh who only fished saltwater. Having said that, let’s talk only about the fish that are readily available along our coastal waters and within 30 minutes of my home in Carteret County. It’s quite a lot as you’ll see.

We’ll start close in and work our way out. There is a book that gives in-depth attention to this very subject called “Fly Fishing the Southeast Coast: A Complete Guide to Fishing Fresh and Salt Water,” if you’re inclined. For the sake of this article, I am going to assume a level of casting competency.

A type of fishing that gets overlooked by fly anglers around here is freshwater bass fishing in ponds. I covered this topic previously, but it’s worth looking at again as a strictly fly opportunity.

The No. 1 concern is access. But if anyone you know has a residential, golf course, any kind of freshwater body, it will have bass in it. The best time is a nice sunset and the best fishing is with a small popper.

Walk the shoreline, cast in an arc and be sure to negotiate any little pockets. It’s a bunch of fun, and while most bass you catch around here will be smaller due to the acid content of the soil, big ones also lurk.

If there is one fish that is readily available to fly fishing regardless of skill and access, I would say it’s the bluefish. They are aggressive, and almost any place that has access to the water will see bluefish coming in and out.

What I’m going to do is lay out a very specific plan to catch a bluefish on a fly from shore. First off, put a 250-grain sink line on your spare fly reel (you have a spare, right?), an 8-weight rod.

Get a stripping basket. Otherwise, you’ll spend more time untangling your line than anything else. Tie a piece of 30-pound fluorocarbon leader material to the end of your fly leader. Attach a Clouser Minnow fly in size 2 tied in chartreuse over white.

Drive to Fort Macon State Park about two hours into the falling tide. Fish on the southwest corner. You won’t need waders until late October. Cast into the current, which should be flowing from your left to right. Retrieve with an erratic action.

I don’t believe that you haven’t caught one already. But seriously, if all is as it should be, they should be there as often as not, and this will get them. Not normally big, but be ready. As a bonus this is also the best way to get a Spanish mackerel from shore, as well. If glass minnows are present, be prepared for anything.

I have not found the open surf to very amenable to fly fishing here for a lot of reasons. Believe me, I’ve tried. That’s not to say it can never be done, but it’s just more work than it’s worth for me. But keep your eyes open for calm days and close fish.

Lights under docks are another great opportunity for the fly angler. As you cruise down the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway, from time to time you will see lights off the ends of docks. If a light points into the water, it’s worth looking at for fishing opportunities. This is classic night fishing. I’m talking not even heading toward the water until 9 p.m.

The fish we are talking about will vary. Speckled trout are always the preferred targets, particularly some really big ones. In fact, if catching a trout over 5 pounds on fly is one of your goals, this would be the way to go. However, some other guests may be interested.

Toward the Neuse River there may be big striped bass, I’ve caught them up to 10 pounds. As you go south toward the Cape Fear, more ladyfish will be available. Red drum will always be around. If you hit on a school of bigger fish, be prepared to bust fly rods and lose fly lines. A school of 30-inchers cleaned us out a few years back.

The same small Clouser Minnow works wonders. Stick with the 8-weight and a 20-pound tippet helps get away from pilings. Position your boat with the anchor almost as far as your longest cast. If you get to close, you’ll mess it up.

Be quiet too. I’ve had homeowners turn off the lights. Uncool.

Cast a little upstream. Strikes will be quick and often show as big boils under the surface. If you can see the fish popping under the lights, that’s a good sign.

Enjoy the moon, and the view of the planets can be spectacular. The sounds that emanate from the water come vibrating through your hull. Often, dolphins will swim through. It’s a great way to fish, and while sometimes things just aren’t happening, it’s as good a way to spend an evening as I can imagine, and a surefire way to catch fish on fly around these parts.

I have not even mentioned the world-famous false albacore run in the fall or the extremely popular tailing redfish action around the full moons. There is plenty of literature about those, some of it written by yours truly, even in these very pages. There’s plenty to do.

Guest Commentary

To stimulate discussion and debate, Coastal Review welcomes differing viewpoints on topical coastal issues. 

It was a losing battle from the start, watching the inevitable rising and receding of the waves simultaneously fill up the hole I had been digging, and swiftly erode the accompanying pile of sand I had dug.

Perhaps it is an intrinsic childhood need to move sand from one location to another. As Sisyphean as the task may seem to an adult, sand is an all-encompassing playground; a place to dig in, sink into, and even to create your own tide pool/hot tub as the waves accentuate your enjoyment.

My first exposure to the sand with every beach trip was the arduous trek (for a young child) up the stairs of the public beach access point down Heverly Drive in Emerald Isle.

I would pause in equal measure to catch my breath and take in just how cool it was to be atop the dunes, peering down on the crashing Atlantic Ocean below. But my expeditions into the dunes as a child were limited to exactly this: brief crossings on established wooden traverses. The landscape of the dunes was dotted with sign after sign stating, in no ambiguous terms, to keep off of their sea oat-covered crests. 

Folks from all over North Carolina and beyond flock to the Crystal Coast to experience the sensation of warm sand on their toes, the waves crashing on top of them, and perhaps a shrimp burger (or 10). Whether or not they realize it, visitors and residents pass through several distinct ecosystems as they stroll toward the beckoning ocean. The first ecosystem is the maritime forest, where hardy Live oaks and Wax myrtles make their living despite the sandy soil.

Then you reach the dunes, where crystal skippers eke out a living amongst the stalwart grasses that stitch the Bogue Banks in place against the ravages of the wind and waves. Afterwards comes the open beach, which might seem like a domain reserved exclusively for beachgoers but is also one that provides critical habitat for nesting least terns and loggerhead sea turtles.

Lastly before the ocean, the area where the waves first crash on the beach is known as the swash zone, where sanderlings, a small wading bird, can be frequently observed searching for bivalves. All of these ecosystems are within sight of each other, and yet their differences can be felt the moment one no longer has a delicious sea breeze standing behind the dunes. 

Flash forward to the present day, and I am a member of a team of scientists tasked with flaunting each and every one of these signs, looking straight at passersby as we rock our highlighter yellow vests and our sweat and sunscreen-streaked faces. We catch our breath and explain to these folks the nature of what we are doing.

“We are researchers with NC State and the North Carolina Aquarium, studying a butterfly endemic to this area called the crystal skipper,” we repeat to various folks taking an interest in our work.

One of the most underappreciated skills required of us is the ability to clarify what terms like “endemic” mean or to satiate people’s curiosity about the subject while being fully conscious of just how bad we smell after a day of traversing the hot and humid dunes.

What is it like to walk through the dunes? In a word, or several, hot, breezeless, and saturated with ankle-seizing smilax. One step takes the energy of three normal steps as the sand inevitably gives way on your ascent. The dunes blocking the sea breeze is likely important ecologically for our skippers, but that perspective is hard to maintain as the stifling air quickly dishevels and frustrates us. For nature nerds like myself, the presence of snakes and wheel bugs as well as the opportunity to study a rare species are well worth the effort. 

To answer that aforementioned question about what “endemic” means, it’s a term used in biology to refer to an organism whose range is restricted to a very specific place. Marine iguanas are endemic to the Galapagos Archipelago, lemurs are endemic to Madagascar, and the crystal skipper is endemic to our own coastal North Carolina.

North Carolina’s barrier islands are famous for how thin they are, and the crystal skipper’s range spans a mere 30 miles of said barrier islands. We as researchers are fairly fortunate in that this range encompasses not one, but two state parks: Hammocks Beach and Fort Macon. This means that we have a considerable amount of public land to study this species on.

True to the moniker of the Bogue Banks, the species can be identified by the distinctive white “crystals” speckling its brown wings. If you are fortunate enough to see a skipper, however, in some cases you might see black markings on their wings. Those are the codes that we have written onto their wings as a part of our mark-recapture study, where we endeavor to estimate the population of skippers in a given area based on the percentage, we are able to recapture.

But our research isn’t limited only to the adults, we spend substantial time looking through the seaside little bluestem, which is the grass the skippers are dependent on, to find and track the development of eggs and caterpillars as they stitch the grass around them into tents that would make the Spanish architect Gaudí proud.

This is all in addition to studying the habitat itself, which encapsulates everything from collecting nectar samples to taking seaside little bluestem samples back to the lab to assess desiccation. 

One of my favorite things about our work is that we find ourselves with equal frequency in the backcountry of the Crystal Coast in remote areas such as Bear Island, part of Hammocks Beach, as often as we find ourselves in the backyards of, at times, residents and unsuspecting tourists. This seems to encapsulate the essence of both conservation and preservation in our project.

One of the most fortuitous happenstances in the preservation of the crystal skipper is that roughly half of its range is already protected within Hammocks Beach State Park in the Swansboro area, which encompasses some of the undeveloped dune habitat in the state outside of its two national seashores. This land offers researchers a chance to observe the crystal skipper in an area of land that is wild and remote.

While we hope that our work will help ensure the population remains robust, the lives of individual adult crystal skippers are not very long. All skippers emerge during two time periods: April through early May and July through mid-August. Insects as a rule are very short-lived, and the crystal skipper is no exception with a lifespan of only one to two weeks.

The nature of our line of work means that multiple cycles of technicians such as myself will study the crystal skipper over summers as ephemeral as the butterfly itself. And while the crystal skipper is immortalized through passing on its genes, we hope that our legacy in the dunes is immortalized in others taking up this work after we have gone. And yet, at the same time, the crystal skipper is always here in the dunes with us, even when passers-by cannot see it.

The caterpillars are going about their business eating, making tents, and growing as they wage an often-unseen struggle for survival against the ravages of hurricanes and the myriad predators of the insect world. This is a struggle unseen by most passers-by in the dunes, and yet forms of the crystal skipper are always present in and around these select islands. It was here before our study of it began, and hopefully it will be here long after, both ever-present and ever-ephemeral. 

The Crystal Coast is many things. From the least terns laying their eggs on the beach to the deft slithering of eastern glass lizards to the skips and flutters of our beloved crystal skippers, nature permeates the man-made structures of the Crystal Coast. It’s an area where the natural world and the human history of the islands are both preserved and lived-in.

The islands of the Bogue Banks are narrow and yet flanking both sides of the narrow dividing roads are natural wonders and all the facets of human life. We, the human race, are locked in an existential struggle trying to figure out how to balance our own needs with those of the natural world.

Existential crises are often easier to face when we can break them into bite-sized pieces, and I believe that by learning to harmonize human life with the natural world here in the living laboratory of the Bogue Banks, we can help create a template for how to do so in the world at large. All of that is reflected in the rare and humble crystal skipper, a butterfly that is uniquely our own.

Opinions expressed by the authors are not necessarily those of Coastal Review or our publisher, the North Carolina Coastal Federation.

Editor’s note: This post will be updated as more towns, counties and organizations announce plans for natural Christmas trees.

Whether it’s for trapping beach sand or grinding it for fresh mulch, consider upcycling that live Christmas tree you’ll be undecorating as the holiday season comes to a close.

North Carolina Department of Environmental Quality’s Division of Coastal Management has released its annual guidelines for using natural Christmas trees as a substitute for traditional sand fending on oceanfront shores.

All decorations must be removed before the tree is placed at the toe of the frontal dune or erosion escarpment, according to a division release.

The trees should not block public or emergency vehicle accesses to beaches, hinder recreational use of a beach, or be placed on private property. Trees should also not be placed in a way that impedes, traps or otherwise endangers sea turtles, nests or hatchlings when the nesting season returns in a few months. 

For more information on how to properly use a live tree on oceanfront property, contact the Coastal Area Management Act permitting authority or appropriate Division of Coastal Management district office.

New Hanover County

New Hanover County residents who do not have residential trash and yard waste pick-up from Wilmington can recycle their Christmas trees and other natural decorations at no charge now through Jan. 31.

“Decorating for the holidays is such an important tradition for so many people, but once the holidays end, it can be hard to dispose of their natural décor in a responsible and environmentally friendly way,” Recycling and Solid Waste Director Joe Suleyman said in a statement. “We’re glad to continue this partnership with The Home Depot and the City of Wilmington which allows living Christmas trees, wreaths, and garlands to be recycled and converted into mulch and compost that will be used in our parks, gardens and grounds, helping reduce waste and keeping our environment clean.”

All natural trees, wreaths and garlands must have lights, ornaments, stands and tinsel removed before dropping the trees off at one of three locations in Wilmington: The Home Depot at 5511 Carolina Beach Road, The Home Depot at 210 Eastwood Road, or the New Hanover County Landfill at 5210 U.S. Highway 421 North. Residents are asked to stack recycled items neatly due to limited space at these drop-off sites.

In addition to trees and wreaths, residents are reminded that other holiday-related items such as gift wrap, paper or cardboard boxes, holiday cards, old gadgets and electronics can be recycled at the county’s recycling processing facility, drop-off sites or via the Mobile Hazwagon.

At this time, artificial trees or decorations, string lights, tinsel, foam packaging, bubble wrap, and ribbons or bows cannot be recycled and should either be reused or placed in the trash.

Onslow County

The Onslow County Landfill, and convenience sites in Midway Park in Jacksonville and Folkstone in Holly Ridge will accept real Christmas trees. The real Christmas trees are taken as yard waste. There is a charge of $3 per tree at the convenience sites, and $31 per ton at the landfill, which equals to $0.31 per 20 pounds.

Artificial Christmas trees can also be dropped off at all sites. There is no fee, and the artificial trees are accepted as recyclable metal. Please remove ornaments, lights, tinsel, and other decorations.

All Onslow County residents can recycle their used Christmas lights no matter the condition at any convenience site.

The convenience sites are open 8 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday. For more information, call for the main refill 910-989-2107, for Midway Park call 910-353-3980 or 910-327-2444 for Folkstone, or visit the website.

North Topsail Beach

Christmas trees can be dropped off at the designated area at Jeffries Parking Lot, 316 New River Inlet Road now through Jan. 13. Free mulch will be available for pick up after Jan. 16.

Carteret County

Fort Macon State Park in Atlantic Beach will collect natural Christmas trees again this year for dune renourishment. Trees can be dropped off at the visitor center parking lot during business hours.

Ranger Benjamin Fleming reiterated that trees need to be completely free of ornaments, lights, tinsel, and other decorations before donating the tree.

“Also, we can’t accept other yard debris and anything that contains metal is not acceptable. For instance every year we get 30 or so wreaths that are made with metal backing, and we have to just throw those in the dumpster,” Fleming said.

Dare County

Residents are asked to remove all ornaments, tinsel, lights, and other nonorganic items from the natural Christmas tree. Place your tree in the right-of-way adjacent to your property and ensure that it is away from all other objects. No artificial trees or other bulk trash items will be collected.

The Dare County Public Works Department will not pick up any Christmas trees that are left on the curbside within the unincorporated areas of Dare County.

Unincorporated Dare County
Christmas trees should be dropped off at the Dare County Public Works Recycling Center located at 1018 Driftwood Drive in Manteo, at Dare County’s C&D Landfill located at 1603 Cub Road in Manns Harbor, or at the Buxton Transfer Station located at 47027 Buxton Back Road in Buxton. Trees that are dropped off at these locations will be recycled into mulch.

Manteo
Town officials request that residents place their undecorated Christmas trees on the curbside during the town’s regular Monday and Thursday sanitation runs.

Residents within the unincorporated areas of Manteo should drop trees off at the Dare County Public Works Recycling Center located at 1018 Driftwood Drive in Manteo to be turned into mulch.

Duck
The town will collect undecorated, tinsel-free Christmas trees from the curbside Jan. 6 and Jan. 13. Staff ask that trees be placed on the curbside the night before the scheduled collection dates.

Southern Shores
Residents may place their undecorated, tinsel-free Christmas trees in limb and branch piles for collection during the regularly scheduled pickup for their sector. Wreaths will not be collected.

Better Beaches OBX is collecting trees at the Hillcrest Beach parking lot in Southern Shores until Jan. 11 for dune restoration.

Kitty Hawk
The town requests that residents place their undecorated, tinsel-free Christmas trees along the curbside on normal trash collection days where they will be picked up in a timely manner.

Undecorated, tinsel-free Christmas trees can also be dropped off at the Kitty Hawk Bathhouse Beach Access in the grassy area to be used for dune restoration.

For more information about the Town of Kitty Hawk’s collection, click here.

Kill Devil Hills
Kill Devil Hills will be collecting natural and undecorated Christmas trees that are placed along the curbside beginning Jan. 8. Trees must be placed on the curbside right-of-way adjacent to your property no later than Jan. 7.

Nags Head
Nags Head residents are asked to place their undecorated, tinsel-free Christmas trees along the side of the road in front of their property, where they will be collected as part of the town’s monthly curbside bulk item/brush collection service. The town also reminds residents to set their trees in a separate pile from the rest of any bulk items that need to be collected.

North Carolina Division of Parks and Recreation officials have closed all state parks west of the interstate that connects Mount Airy to Charlotte, and canceled all programs through the end of the month, aside from a few on the coast.

Dismal Day is still scheduled to take place from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. Saturday, Oct. 12, at Dismal Swamp State Park, as well as Fear at the Fort the last two weekends of this month at Fort Macon State Park, and a Schools in Parks training Oct. 26 at Carolina Beach State Park.

The division said it is scaling back operations across the state that will allow staff to continue assisting with the statewide emergency and rescue efforts in Western North Carolina, in the aftermath of Hurricane Helene. About 30 staff have been deployed on law enforcement assignments requested through the North Carolina Emergency Operations Center.

The state parks west of Interstate 77 closed through at least Oct. 31 are Chimney Rock, Crowders Mountain, Elk Knob, Gorges, Grandfather Mountain, Lake James, Lake Norman, Mount Mitchell, New River, South Mountains, and Stone Mountains state parks, as well as Mount Jefferson State Natural Area and Rendezvous Mountain.

All reservations for campsites and other facilities such as picnic shelters at western state parks through Oct. 31 have been canceled and refunded in full.

“The devastation brought by Helene in many communities across western North Carolina has been profound,” State Parks Director Brian Strong said. “The entire division wants to provide whatever assistance we can to our neighbors and to these areas that were hit hardest. We want to prioritize our resources, both staff and equipment, towards immediate and lifesaving needs.”

Additionally, closing these parks can help limit travel in the area while roads and other infrastructure are repaired and replaced.

State park rangers are sworn law enforcement officers, and many park field staff such as rangers and maintenance technicians are certified as emergency medical responders, trained to operate chainsaws and large equipment, and possess a commercial driver’s license.

“In the last few days alone, we have seen the entire state come together to support each other during this difficult time,” Strong said. “We know our parks are beloved by North Carolinians, but we also know our visitors are eager to help those who are grieving and those who have lost so much because of this storm.”

Once the vital needs of post-storm recovery efforts have been met, staff will focus on recreational facilities at parks, including trails, visitor centers, and campsites. Staff will assess conditions, clear downed trees, and address any remaining safety hazards before reopening to the public.

Fort Macon State Park, home to a restored pre-Civil War fort, will offer daily guided tours, bird hikes, demonstrations and kid-friendly programing over the next few months.

The fort at 2303 E. Fort Macon Road in Atlantic Beach features extensive exhibits on the grounds focusing on fort history and the natural surroundings. Visitors also have access to the beach and can use walking trails that meander through salt marsh and dunes.

Learn more about the park’s history on the Friends of Fort Macon website. The Friends group is an all-volunteer nonprofit that supports Fort Macon State Park.

The following is Fort Macon’s schedule through April:

• Tours of the fort are offered at 1 p.m. every day now through April 14. Starting April 15, tours will be held daily at 11 a.m., 1 p.m. and 3 p.m.
• Small Arms Demonstration at 10:30 a.m. every Wednesday Learn about one of the small arms (musket, flint lock, or rifle) that a soldier station at Fort Macon would have carried and used.  This will include a blank firing demonstration of the weapon.
• Bird Hike at 9 a.m. Feb. 6, March 6 and April 3 Meet at the visitor center and take a leisurely hike to identify birds native to the area.
• Telescope Workshop from 1 to 3 p.m. Saturday, Feb. 11. Did you get a new telescope for Christmas but you’re not sure how to use it? The Crystal Coast Stargazers will be holding a telescope workshop in the visitor center auditorium. Feel free to bring any equipment you are unsure about, or just come learn about different equipment and its uses that various club members will have on site.
• Kid’s Corner at 10 a.m. Feb. 14, March 14 and April 11. Bring your preschool- or elementary-aged child to the visitor center lobby for a nature-themed story and crafts. Children must be accompanied by an adult.
• Natural Side of Fort Macon at 10 a.m. Feb. 16, March 16 and April 20. Meet in the visitor center lobby for a leisurely hike exploring the natural side of Fort Macon. Hike will cover both trail and beach.
• Astronomy at 6 p.m. Feb. 17 and 7 p.m. March 3. Meet at the bathhouse to view space through a telescope and learn more about the universe.
• Beach Scavenger Hunt at 10 a.m. Feb. 24, March 24 and April 28. Take a stroll on the beach with a park ranger and hunt for everything from drift beans to sea glass, and of course, seashells. Sunscreen and water are recommended. Distance of the hike will depend on the weather and the group. Meet at the bathhouse.
• Crystal Coast Star Party: Harkers Island begins at 4 p.m. April 21 and at 1 p.m. April 22. Instead of an astronomy event at Fort Macon in April, park staff will support the Crystal Coast Stargazers with their second annual Crystal Coast Star Party. This event will be held at the Cape Lookout National Seashore visitor center on Harkers Island at 4 p.m. Friday and 1 p.m. Saturday. 
• Cannon Day is April 22. Learn how the different cannons of the fort were loaded, aimed and fired. Cannon firing demonstrations will be held at 10:30 a.m., 11:30 a.m., 1:30 p.m., 2:30 p.m. and 3:30 p.m.

ATLANTIC BEACH — The date was April 23, 1862, and Maj. Gen. Ambrose Burnside’s Union army watched as a white flag was finally raised above the old fort. What had first seemed like a battle won in less than 24 hours had turned into a month-long ordeal trying to get Confederate troops to vacate the premises.

Fort Macon had been a strategic target because it guarded Beaufort Inlet and North Carolina’s only deep-water port. When the 400 men defending the place finally surrendered that day, the Civil War, for all intents and purposes, was over in this part of the Confederacy. The Yankees occupied the fort for the rest of the war, and the harbor it guarded became an important coaling and provisioning port for the blockading Union navy.

Almost 60 years after the war’s end, the restored fort and the beaches and marshes that surround it became a key addition to the state’s nascent park system. Millions of people have since walked the parapets, swam the beaches, fished the inlet of Fort Macon State Park. It is now among the busiest of our parks and last year was named the best of them.

Built for War

A place that so many now find beautiful and peaceful started life as an instrument of war. Construction began on the fort in 1826, in response to the realization that America’s coastline was largely helpless during the War of 1812. The Army Corps of Engineers built the fort over the course of eight years and according to Brig. Gen. Simon Bernard’s design. It was named after North Carolina’s eminent statesman at the time, Nathaniel Macon, according to nonprofit Friends of Fort Macon.

For the first 150 years of its existence, it seems like Beaufort, the town just inside of the inlet that Fort Macon protects, was always in need of protection from something. First, there was the Tuscarora Indians who for some reason didn’t like trespassers brutalizing them and forcing them off their own land. One Blackbeard the pirate in 1718 literally abandoned 300 of his men here who descended upon the town to do as they please. Then on Aug. 26, 1747, Spanish privateers sailed into the harbor, offloaded and invaded the town like Henry Morgan sacking Panama. The British did the same thing in 1782. Of course, the war of 1812 wasn’t much better as the Brits came sailing in repeatedly, demanding supplies for which Beaufort’s only defense was the homegrown privateer Otway Burns and his ship the Snapdragon.

Even Mother Nature had its eye on Beaufort when she spun the hurricane of 1825 that actually swept into the inlet a pathetic excuse for a fort that was Fort Macon’s halfheartedly built predecessor.

From Beaufort’s inception, every generation that lived anywhere near the town was forced to endure war, invasion, threat and privation. Fort Macon was built to change all of this.

The old five-sided brick and stone fort, with outer walls measuring some 4.5 feet thick, has had a long and interesting history standing guard over Beaufort Inlet and the surrounding coastline. However, after the Civil War, things kind of quieted down, and its roll of protectorate of this region began to change. There was a brief hiccup we call World War II of course, when the feds leased the old fort from North Carolina for a few years, but by and large, the real treasure that Fort Macon would come to protect is the natural world – in both direct and indirect ways.

There is a certain kind irony to be found, undeniably poetic, in a military fort coming to protect fiddler crabs and piping plovers. But for the grand old fort at the east end of Bogue Banks, that is exactly the role that this defensive structure has played the majority of its life. Though warfare may have been its intended use, the sands of time had other plans for Fort Macon.

The Complaining Dr. Coues

Elliott Coues complained a lot. He complained about the fort. He complained about his sleeping quarters. He complained about the hospital, the salt, the humidity, the malaria and the mold. He especially complained about the mold. Moldy books. Moldy papers. Moldy everything.

But Coues was also an ambitious man. He was as a doctor for sure. But he was also trained as a naturalist by none other than Spencer Baird, the founder of the Smithsonian Institution. His calling in life was never to be just an army surgeon. Coues had dreams. He had goals. But he was no Humboldt or Darwin, with the inheritance and financial means to explore the world. And so like many an early 19^th century member of the intelligencia without the means to see the world, he joined on with the army as a surgeon hoping they would foot some of the bill – which is how he ended up stationed on Bogue Banks.

Arriving at Fort Macon in February of 1869, Coues set about trying to see past the squalid conditions that he was expected to work in and headed straight into the boot-sucking salt marsh to have a look around his new home. What he was to find was an island quite unlike the one we know today. In all, there were only a handful of people living on Bogue Banks other than the soldiers at Fort Macon, and most of those were seasonal whalers. Maritime forest, with gnarled old live oaks dripping with the vines of wild grapes, covered much of the banks that would lead to the modern name of Emerald Isle.

Bogue Banks was in an almost pristine state. There were no marinas, no hotels, no bridges, no roads, no developers. All of that would come later. What there was, was a seemingly endless stream of migratory birds in the springtime. Oysters so plentiful that a bushel sold for just 30 cents in Beaufort. Nets full of mullet. And from foreshore to salt marsh, the whole place was a 19^th century naturalists’ dream come true.

Coues was a Smithsonian protégé, a trained naturalist skilled in the arts of skin collecting. He was educated in the methods of detailing observations of the natural world. And so Coues, the whiney army surgeon began to write – prolifically. He wrote about birds. He wrote about reptiles. He wrote about bugs. And over the following two years, he completed the most extensive biological survey of any place in the American South. The whole lot would be compiled and published in a five-part series in the Proceedings of the Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia titled “Notes on the Natural History of Fort Macon.”

Coues was not the first naturalist to write about the area. That honor would go to another Smithsonian naturalist, William Stimpson, who had already published his “Trip to Beaufort N.C.” in The American Journal of Sciences and Arts. However, Coues’ writings were quickly putting this place on the map for serious naturalists, and he actively sent out invitations other likeminded scientists to visit his Fort Macon and Bogue Banks. The result was a steady influx of bird nerds and fish experts to the little town of Beaufort. And within 10 years, John Hopkins University was running what may be the first marine science laboratory in U.S. history out of the Gibbs House on Front Street in Beaufort.

Evolution of a Science Center

After John Hopkins opened up shop, the University of North Carolina followed, renting Duncan House just down the road. UNC, Hopkins, along with the state universities of Virginia, Georgia and South Carolina, all pitched in money to buy land on Pivers Island, between Beaufort and Fort Macon, to donate to the U.S. Fisheries Commission for construction of their new laboratory. Three decades later, Duke University would also join by establishing its own marine laboratory. Today, three university marine laboratories and a federal fisheries lab combine to make the Crystal Coast one of the largest hubs of marine science in the country. Not a bad legacy to leave behind for an eclectic army surgeon hunkered over pen and paper by candlelight while stationed in that moldy, old fort.

As for Fort Macon, that pentagon-shaped sentinel that has watched over Beaufort Inlet since it was first constructed in 1826, the whole place was turned into North Carolina’s second state park, after Mount Mitchell, in 1926. But the creation of the park would encompass more than just the physical structure of the fort. The boundaries of Fort Macon State Park would reach out to encompass 424 acres in all, ultimately protecting some of the most important and productive habitat on the island. Though this is today the smallest of all our state parks in North Carolina, it is twice the size of the Roosevelt State Natural area on Bogue Banks, making Fort Macon the largest permanently protected swath of land on the island.

Thus has been the legacy of this old fort. Once defensive sentinel standing guard over this stretch of otherwise unprotected coastline, Fort Macon sparked the marine science industry of the Crystal Coast, inspiring countless biologists who now ply waters the world over.

As a state park, the fort now plays home to nesting sea turtles, migrating shorebirds, storm-battered pelagic seabirds and a long strand of undeveloped white sandy beach, unmolested by the blight of development. These walls have protected a way of life, a rich and diverse ecosystem, and the psychological wellbeing of those who recreate (re-create) on its beaches. With such a history, with such a legacy, it is for these reasons that Fort Macon was named North Carolina’s No. 1 state park recently, as this red brick fortress continues to stand guard some 190 years after it was first built.

Learn More

• Notes on the Natural History of Fort Macon, N.C. and Vicinity
• Fort Macon State Park
• Friends of Fort Macon