Barrier Island

LONG BEFORE Noah built his ark, man was grappling with how to live with nature. Nowhere is it more complicated than in our efforts to preserve nature through artificial means. Consider the dilemma at Assateague Island, where the government plans Herculean measures to protect that sand barrier from natural forces. Ocean waves and winds incessantly move the sands of Assateague, slowly thinning the 37-mile-long island and pushing it closer to the mainland. The National Park Service plans to dredge millions of cubic yards of sand from offshore to widen a five-mile stretch of the beach.

This would be the one where we stayed home, my husband and I agreed before the recent holidays. No Christmas flight to Texas to visit his family. No four-hour drive through the mountains to Pittsburgh for Thanksgiving dinner with my dad. With two busy careers, an active 8-year-old and a toddler who had taken to saying "no night-night" when it's time for bed, we didn't have the energy. Even a low-maintenance weekend jaunt to New York on BoltBus seemed like too much work. But then the 8-year-old read "Misty of Chincoteague" that wonderful book about a horse born in the wilds of Assateague Island and raised on Chincoteague Island.

This would be the one where we stayed home, my husband and I agreed before the recent holidays. No Christmas flight to Texas to visit his family. No four-hour drive through the mountains to Pittsburgh for Thanksgiving dinner with my dad. With two busy careers, an active 8-year-old and a toddler who had taken to saying "no night-night" when it's time for bed, we didn't have the energy. Even a low-maintenance weekend jaunt to New York on BoltBus seemed like too much work. But then the 8-year-old read "Misty of Chincoteague" that wonderful book about a horse born in the wilds of Assateague Island and raised on Chincoteague Island.

- Hazel Cropper, for years the fastest crab picker in this city built on its seafood industry, worries about the storm drain a few feet from her living room. As volunteers assessed the damage Superstorm Sandy caused to her home, the 74-year-old noted that the drain backs up whenever it rains, flooding the street. She wondered if it would put her home back under water in the next big storm. "I try to not even think about it," said Cropper, who worked in crab houses most of her life and earned the nickname "Hurricane Hazel" for the speed at which she dismantled blue crabs at annual competitions she inevitably won. "I'm leaving it in God's hands.

COCOA BEACH, Fla. -- Kathy Kneuer ducked under a mass of hanging cables and aimed her camera at a chunk of roof sitting on the living room floor of the beachfront rental unit she owns on this barrier island. Hurricane Frances had peeled the roof off the apartment, broken a railing that faces the Atlantic Ocean and carried an air conditioning unit clear to the other side of the parking lot. She was documenting the damage for insurance purposes. "You want to say you're prepared, and you tell yourself the worst could happen," Kneuer said.

WASHINGTON -- The House approved a measure yesterday that would allow for the expansion of the Assateague Island National Seashore in Worcester County.The legislation, approved by voice vote, would allow the National Park Service to purchase 96 acres of the Elizabeth Woodcock estate, south of Route 611. The rest of the 320-acre farm is expected to be largely preserved through the purchase by an environmental trust.Maryland lawmakers said the legislation was necessary to prevent commercial development of the property, owned by the late Mrs. Woodcock and located near the Verrazano Bridge, which connects Worcester County to the barrier island.

CHINCOTEAGUE, Va. - I think everyone needs a Chincoteague, especially after the horrific terrorist assault on our nation and individual psyches. For me, Chincoteague is a place to retreat for spiritual reflection and some assurance that there is a divine plan in which order ultimately materializes out of chaos. I never needed that assurance more than immediately after the bloody events of Sept. 11. Chincoteague is more than an abstraction for me. It is actually a 10,000-acre national wildlife refuge situated on Assateague, a barrier island bordering the Atlantic Ocean off the Virginia coast.

For those who like to stretch a few muscles and listen for nature's cacophony of sounds in autumn, a world of adventure lies just beyond Ocean City's doorstep.Whether you like to bike, hike or paddle, walk through history, toss a line into the sea at dawn, rake the murky shoals in search of clams or just sit quietly on a sand dune, absorbing the beauty of a wild landscape as the birds flutter by, the perfect place to enjoy your time outdoors is somewhere within a 25-mile radius of Ocean City.

ASSATEAGUE ISLAND - This windswept ribbon of sand is wasting away, starved by the rock jetty that keeps Ocean City's inlet open for the beach resort's multitude of boaters. Assateague National Seashore has taken such a pounding from the Atlantic Ocean that coastal geologists warn that one wicked nor'easter could begin the breakup of the northern end of this 37-mile-long island, home to world-famous herds of horses and more than 300 species of birds. The Army Corps of Engineers and the National Park Service have come up with a plan to stave off the inevitable by pumping sand from an offshore shoal onto a 5-mile stretch of beach.

In Sunday's Travel section, the phone number for the Cap Cod National Seashore's Salt Pond Visitor Center was incorrect. The number is (508) 255-3421.The Sun regrets the errors.For many folks, summer vacation means escaping to a place that offers equal doses of surf, sun, boardwalk fries, arcades, amusement parks, miniature golf . . . and crowds.In other words, Ocean City.But there is another kind of surf-and-sun vacation. Picture wide, empty beaches, long walks, nesting osprey and egret, unhurried time with family and friends.

By Monday evening, Hurricane Sandy's remains surrounded Ocean City . From the east, the evening high tide, a full moon and a 7-foot storm surge sent waves crashing over dunes in some spots. To the west, a white-capped Assawoman Bay overflowed onto the narrow barrier island. Gusts whipping to near-hurricane force turned gaps between high rises into wind tunnels. A decision by town officials to close the Route 90 bridge to nonemergency traffic at 5 p.m. meant there was nothing for those who stayed behind to do but wait, or call for help.

Neil and Mary Edith Flynn waved goodbye to their son and his family and turned to their sand-colored RV. A high ridge of sea grasses and bayberry bushes blocked the ocean from view in this stretch of the state park, but the sound of hurricane-driven surf smashing onto the shore traveled over the dunes. "Well, we put everything inside and battened down the hatches," said Mary Edith Flynn, 77. "We're just going to sit here and watch the storm go by. " As Hurricane Earl hurtled up the East Coast, families along this spindly barrier island folded up tents and lugged boogie boards, chairs and dejected children to their vehicles.

A narrow chain of barrier islands, North Carolina's Outer Banks offers panoramic views of the Atlantic Ocean on one side and serene bays and waterways on the other, as well as wildlife refuges and maritime woodlands. The area also includes Kitty Hawk, the birthplace of flight, and Cape Hatteras National Seashore. The Outer Banks has 15 towns along the length of the islands. Dining, recreation and shopping opportunities are growing, thanks to a recent building boom. Where to stay Most Outer Banks visitors stay in one of the abundant vacation homes, many of which are worth more than $1 million and feature five, six or seven bedrooms, in-ground pools, hot tubs and modern kitchens.

COCOA BEACH, Fla. -- Kathy Kneuer ducked under a mass of hanging cables and aimed her camera at a chunk of roof sitting on the living room floor of the beachfront rental unit she owns on this barrier island. Hurricane Frances had peeled the roof off the apartment, broken a railing that faces the Atlantic Ocean and carried an air conditioning unit clear to the other side of the parking lot. She was documenting the damage for insurance purposes. "You want to say you're prepared, and you tell yourself the worst could happen," Kneuer said.

CHINCOTEAGUE, Va. - I think everyone needs a Chincoteague, especially after the horrific terrorist assault on our nation and individual psyches. For me, Chincoteague is a place to retreat for spiritual reflection and some assurance that there is a divine plan in which order ultimately materializes out of chaos. I never needed that assurance more than immediately after the bloody events of Sept. 11. Chincoteague is more than an abstraction for me. It is actually a 10,000-acre national wildlife refuge situated on Assateague, a barrier island bordering the Atlantic Ocean off the Virginia coast.

LONG BEFORE Noah built his ark, man was grappling with how to live with nature. Nowhere is it more complicated than in our efforts to preserve nature through artificial means. Consider the dilemma at Assateague Island, where the government plans Herculean measures to protect that sand barrier from natural forces. Ocean waves and winds incessantly move the sands of Assateague, slowly thinning the 37-mile-long island and pushing it closer to the mainland. The National Park Service plans to dredge millions of cubic yards of sand from offshore to widen a five-mile stretch of the beach.

Neil and Mary Edith Flynn waved goodbye to their son and his family and turned to their sand-colored RV. A high ridge of sea grasses and bayberry bushes blocked the ocean from view in this stretch of the state park, but the sound of hurricane-driven surf smashing onto the shore traveled over the dunes. "Well, we put everything inside and battened down the hatches," said Mary Edith Flynn, 77. "We're just going to sit here and watch the storm go by. " As Hurricane Earl hurtled up the East Coast, families along this spindly barrier island folded up tents and lugged boogie boards, chairs and dejected children to their vehicles.

Of all the forms assumed by land on this earth, none is more fluid and lively than the Atlantic barrier island.Few places are more unstable for erecting our castles than these shifting sands. Yet few places are more popular. That's why we have national debates about the mammoth expenses of stabilizing beach cities from New Jersey to Florida against erosion. For sheer chutzpah, however, none of the mega-resorts matches what Ben Benson perpetrated around 1986, with the blessings of the state of Virginia, on Cedar Island, a seven-mile sand sliver just south of Chincoteague.

ASSATEAGUE ISLAND - This windswept ribbon of sand is wasting away, starved by the rock jetty that keeps Ocean City's inlet open for the beach resort's multitude of boaters. Assateague National Seashore has taken such a pounding from the Atlantic Ocean that coastal geologists warn that one wicked nor'easter could begin the breakup of the northern end of this 37-mile-long island, home to world-famous herds of horses and more than 300 species of birds. The Army Corps of Engineers and the National Park Service have come up with a plan to stave off the inevitable by pumping sand from an offshore shoal onto a 5-mile stretch of beach.

Thirty-eight years ago this spring, the most devastating coastal storm in New Jersey history inundated Long Beach Island, drowning seven people, uprooting 600 houses and tearing the slender barrier island into six pieces. Along the Eastern Seaboard, from North Carolina to New York, the great Ash Wednesday Storm of 1962 killed 22 people, pounded 50,000 houses and left $1.3 billion in damage. So shocking was the destruction that state and federal officials suggested the unthinkable: restoring the vulnerable shoreline to its natural state -- a buffer zone off-limits to risky development.