Call me a hopeless romantic, but give me a nor’easter over a hurricane any day.
A hurriane shows up like a headline: loud, scary, and gone in a night. A nor’easter moves in and stays a while. The sky goes pewter, the wind leans on everything, and the whole coast feels awake. This morning brought the first one of the season to Virginia Beach, so I did what I always do. I got on my bike and went to see it.
High tide came in at 6:21 a.m. By 7 I was rolling out of Owl Creek, the place I call home base.
Owl Creek: The Water Came Calling
The creek didn’t stay in its lane. At the boat launch the water had spilled over the ramp and well up onto the concrete pad. The Virginia Aquarium stood tall and steady across the way, like it’s seen all this before, and it has. Down at the new kayak launch the views were wide open, and way up at the top of a tree an osprey sat watching it all, not bothered one bit.
Rudee Inlet: Where the Power Shows Up
From the point at Rudee Inlet the waves were slamming the jetty and throwing white water sky-high. You don’t just see a storm like that. You feel it: wind pushing on your chest, salt on your lips, the ground humming under the surf. It was a great morning for pictures.
Over the Bridge to 1st Street
I crossed the Rudee bridge to 1st Street, where the sand had found every crack and crevice it could. A long line of it ran right past the playground, like the beach was trying to move inland.
I wasn’t the only one out, either. The regulars were there too, the other guys who can’t sit still when the ocean puts on a show. We nodded at each other and took it in. The wind whipped the sand so hard it stung my legs like a thousand tiny needles. Mother Nature doesn’t do gentle reminders.
The Ride Home
Back over the bridge the paths were littered with debris, and the big monkey was still standing tall. Then it was back into Owl Creek Landing, where a storm feels different. Under the trees the wind turns into a roar in the canopy and the woods sound alive.
Two sights stayed with me:
- At least 50 pigeons lined up shoulder to shoulder on the ledge of the Dolphin Run, tucked out of the wind. Smart birds. Smarter than some humans I know.
- One little soaked night heron at Owl Creek, hunkered down in the bushes, doing its best to dry out. I couldn’t help but smile.
All of these pictures were taken between 7 and 8 this morning.
A Word Before You Go
With a storm comes danger. Please be smart: stay off the jetties, give the flooded roads a pass, and respect the water.
Then do yourself a favor. Turn off the AC, open your windows, and let the fresh air in. Your house will thank you, and so will your bank account.
See y’all out there, Rick
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