The Frisco Pier - Proud. Strong. Unshakable.

"Dance on broken glass, build castles with shattered dreams and wear your tears like precious pearls. Proud. Strong. Unshakable." -Anita Krizzan 

Ah, the Frisco Pier on Cape Hatteras National Seashore.  Still standing strong after years of neglect. Each visit feels a little bit sadder, a little bit closer to the end. And yet, she continues her fight, drawing us in, calling our names, and reminding us of our love for her. We'll be sad when she's gone.

I saw him there and just had to take the picture. He was standing knee deep in the water, his back to me, but I knew his face was a map of every storm that had ever hit this coast. He was a piece of the pier himself, and I knew how much it must've hurt to see it like this.

Hurricane Irene didn't just break the wood; it tore something out of all of us who loved the pier. It was a place where my dad came to surf back in the 70s, a perfect spot to catch a wave instead of going to school.

Now, all that's left is a jagged mess of splintered pilings, like broken bones sticking out of the water. The air feels different, too. It’s got a sad, hollow quality, a scent of torn wood mixed in with the salt. It's a smell of loss.

But even in its ruin, I see a kind of strength. The pier hasn’t given up the fight. It’s standing there, broken but not gone, a monument to everything it survived. And the man, with his fishing rod pointed out at the horizon, he’s a monument too. He’s not waiting for a fish; he’s a sentinel, a witness to the pier's proud, unshakable spirit. He’s holding a line for all the memories and the fight that will always remain.

While Hurricane Irene was the final blow that caused significant flooding and severe damage in August 2011, the pier's vulnerability was a result of decades of prior neglect and storm damage. She may be in pieces now, but her legacy isn't. It's carried on by all of us who loved her, a legacy of quiet resilience against the constant, powerful pull of the sea.