It was a magical beach, a magical walk down the hill through the Hackberry, Cedar, Black Walnut, Oak, Sycamore, Tulip Tree, Locust, Paulownia, Wild Cherry, and ending with the old and majestic Hickory.

We loved our beach. How easy it was to push the kayaks off for a tour of the shoreline or to hop on the catamaran for a relaxing sail.

Normally calm, our creek was raging in this “perfect storm.” We had been experiencing higher-than-normal tides the last few days. I suppose that was due to runoff from the heavy rains up North. The high tides, heavy rain, and swells of 3-4 feet just made matters so much worse.

Early Saturday morning we went out to survey the damage. Having watched our neighbor's dock being torn apart, we took a look first at the damage there, and it was severe. Gone was the "L" dock but the pier was still standing. Lucky for them they took their boats out.

Gus and neighbor Ben survey the damage as I follow behind with camera in hand.

Some friends visiting to see what damage we suffered commented that we had a bigger, nicer beach. Amazing! Is that actually what they saw?

The catamaran was once nestled in the reeds and grasses. Now it's out in the open and sand covers where the reeds and grasses once grew. The boat suffered only minor damage, the trailer a bit more. We'll do what we can - plant more sea grasses - so that we can shore up this point of marsh.

With no power and much curiosity, we set out in the car to tour our neighborhood and those of our friends. First stop: the public boat launch and neighboring road. At the boat launch, not only had debris washed up and covered the parking lot, it extended maybe 20 yards from the parking lot up onto the road! No photos there but when we left to go down a neighboring road to see how some homes lining the river fared (and the homes are barely 25 feet above water level, but very far off the river), our entry was blocked immediately. Plan B: into town we go!

"Objects in the mirror" may be closer than they appear but they are not bigger and let me tell you, that root ball is huge!

We are okay and our house is still standing but I am not sure if I want to test my luck, and test this supporting tree’s strength, by driving under the fallen tree. (But we do because there's so much more to see.)

The calm waters now belie how they were just a day earlier, but the condition of this boat tells the story and tells it well.

This is the dock at our former home. We repaired it in 1998, the new owner repaired it after Hurricane Isabel in 2003, and now he has to repair it again. Dock repair is not covered by insurance; the cost is all out-of-the-pocket money, as is the repair of seawalls/bulkheads or riprap (huge rocks) protecting your shoreline.

That’s what we call the tree and leaf litter after a hurricane or storm, hurricane salad, and this is where it comes from – all the trees whose foliage has been stripped from them by the winds.

I'll preface this story by saying: disasters and trouble, it seems, bring out the best in people. I must say that I believe people are fundamentally good. I also believe that good deeds received must be passed on.

With nothing better to do after the storm and having no coffee cream (and with no power we had no desire to open the refrigerator even if we had cream) we went into town again hoping that the coffee shop – a great place to hear and tell stories – might be open for business since we had heard that power in town had been restored Saturday morning. As it turned out, The Art of Coffee suffered a power surge Saturday which knocked their machines offline for part of the day but they were open for business today, Sunday. The only thing out of kilter now was that their signs were missing - they blew off the signpost in Friday's winds. Lucky for the owners, Holly and Terry, the signs were rescued from the street by Holly and a co-worker, both of whom narrowly escaped being run over by an eighteen-wheeler! Terry told us that all he needed to remount the signs was scaffolding - if only there was a place that rented it. Some friends of ours just happen to have some scaffolding - imagine that, what timing, how perfect! All it took was one phone call and a 20-minute wait and the scaffolding was there. Maybe 40-minutes later and the signs were back in place. The Art of Coffee was now visibly open-for-business.

If you are ever in Montross, stop by The Art of Coffee on Route 3 (Historyland Highway) and say "hey" to Terry and Holly. Then enjoy a fine cup of coffee, espresso, a latte, Chai tea, and a piece of pastry - I vote for the tasty cranberry scone! And take a look around at the art work: paintings done by Holly herself, and local artists (including my favorites, stained glass, AND my husband’s birdhouses!).

I've mentioned how we value trees. The Willow in this photo, its branches blowing in the breeze (read: wind) - can you believe that we brought that tree home in our Jeep Wrangler in 1998! Hurricane Isabel tried to take her down but she made it, and she made it through Ernesto.

Not my idea of a walk in the park, cutting down that tree hanging over our road.

Everyone has a passion. Mine is taking photos; Gus' is hard work (with a smile for the camera!).

Earlier this morning, Monday, we went out to the grocery store hoping to buy some items as our power came back on yesterday while we were sightseeing. We found the cases empty. No produce, no deli, no meat, no dairy. Seems the grocery store needs to install a generator (us too!). Wouldn't that be better than having food go to waste?

The trip wasn't wasted, however. On the way home we noticed a logger working. We stopped, introduced ourselves, explained that we had a big tree come down in the storm, and asked if he might be able to help us out. He said he'd be happy to, followed us home, and after looking at the job said he'd come back in 30-45 minutes to start cutting.

In less than 40 minutes he made small work of a large job. Two cold beers later he was on his way home and promised that after the ground had dried out he'd bring his "skidder" and haul the trees away for us. No money was accepted although it was offered a number of times. He's a Good Samaritan, this Floyd Pitts.

(Click on the photo and select the "large" or "original" size (which is huge) to take a better look.)

It's a small world and we were found by a former resident of Stratford Harbour (now living in Tennessee) Google searching for news on Ernesto and Stratford Harbour. His family weekend home is off the marina at Stratford Harbour and the seawall they built 25 years ago took a major hit, as you can see from this photo (top left).

Other friends from Stratford Harbour had their boat float off their pier and up onto the shore. You have to wait for a nice and high tide - assuming there's no structural damage to the boat - to get it back on the dock!

The two bottom photos were taken as we kayaked up the river to view the damage from a different vantage point. These are the homes I mentioned that are barely 25 feet above the water. The shoreline and bulkhead were torn up, as were boat houses, docks, and piers. Not to mention the boats - many of which were tossed twenty yards plus into lawns.

Sometimes we become all-consumed by what is going on around us. So consumed that we can't see (excuse me) the forest for the trees. Well, we sat back after the storm, decided what needed to be done and in what order, and made a plan so that we were able to see that forest.

Obviously, protecting our property - the shoreline - from further damage was a must. After talking with five contractors we were able to get two quotes and two very rough (!) estimates, neither of which we were willing to take a chance on. The choice was down to two contractors, we decided which one to go with and after a friend with "heavy equipment" cleaned up the debris on the beach (another fire, of course) the rocks (well, huge boulders) for our riprap job started coming in by the truckload, with each load carrying between 15 and 18 tons.

The riprap job was started on February 27, 2007 and we paid for a job well done on March 12. In nine days they laid down two tons of stone per foot on 165 feet of our shoreline and the 200 feet of our neighbor’s shoreline. That’s a lot of rocks.

It's done. It's over. For now.

Time heals memories and landscapes, and shorelines change. Millions of years ago this area was tropical and covered with water. No one but we three (you, Gus, and me) will remember that the Hickory is missing from this picture.