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| Eugene Ballance - Photo taken by Chris Curry/The Virginian-Pilot |
BY KRISTIN DAVIS
THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
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| Ballance's graphing calculator and slide rule made project possible, Chris Curry/The Virginian-Pilot |
OCRACOKE — Eugene Ballance had heard about the oyster maps years
ago. They were tucked away at the Division of Archives and History in Raleigh, and getting to them would take a day of travel by water and by land.
There were 35, each the size of a tabletop and too big to copy. You couldn’t borrow them. They were a century old, created
back when oysters thrived in North Carolina waters. They held the secrets of
the reefs: where they were, how big they’d been, how high they’d risen. Ballance, a 54-year-old Ocracoke fisherman and mathematician, wanted to use them to create updated maps with
new technology. He knew such a project could help the oyster. The people at the North Carolina Division of Marine Fisheries
agreed. If they knew where the reefs used to be, they could make better decisions in restoration efforts. Somebody else once
thought mapping was key to the oyster’s survival. It didn’t turn out that way.
In the 19th century, Francis Winslow was a Navy lieutenant from Connecticut. By 1886 he’d been studying and surveying and plotting oysters
north of here for a decade. He’d built a small hatchery aboard a survey schooner in order to track the progress of young
oysters, a project that led to a longer “closed season.” He’d discovered that little parasites considered
harmless to oysters were actually killing them. A scientist named the parasite Astyris Winslovii in honor of that discovery,
according to Winslow’s obituary. Winslow, it seemed, was the man North Carolina
was looking for to survey its oyster beds. Farther north, dredging had exhausted the species. Oysters were still abundant
here, where people harvested by hand. Winslow would identify public and private beds, and the rest would be leased. “They
knew people from Virginia were coming” to dredge in North
Carolina, Ballance said. “It was
an attempt to hold back the chaos.”
In 2002, Ballance made the trip to Raleigh
to look at copies of Winslow’s hand-traced maps on oil cloth. They still looked new. As they might have looked when
oystermen harvested hundreds of thousands of bushels each year in North Carolina.
Ocracokers have made their living off the water for much of the island’s history. Ballance’s grandfather ran freight boats from the island to the West Indies, and
when that industry died, he turned to fishing. Ballance’s
father, Elisha, had fished and crabbed. Ballance returned to do
the same after he finished college. So did Elisha’s two other sons. The four of them worked the waters of Ocracoke together
for more than 20 years. When the men got home in the evenings, Elisha would fall asleep and Ballance would pore over math and programming books. He used a slide rule, and later a graphing calculator and
later a computer, to keep track of the fish and “try to outsmart them.” Ballance, the man who fished for a living, crunched numbers for relaxation. That made him an ideal researcher
for the fisheries division mapping project, which was funded by North Carolina Sea Grant. He would seek to show where oyster
reefs once thrived. “Since that’s where oysters used to grow, presumably that’s where they would grow again,”
said Bob Hines, a Sea Grant fisheries specialist. The state archives agreed to temporarily transfer Winslow’s maps to
the Outer Banks History
Center in Manteo, where they were scanned and stitched together in 2003. Ballance plunged into the project. He knows as well as any Ocracoker
that the island is not the place it once was. “If fishing is going to survive,” he said, “we need something
in the winter.” Back when Winslow showed up, oysters were that something.
Winslow and his crew did not have a difficult job in North Carolina.
Not at first. Watermen wanted to help him because they did not want public beds included in private leases, Ballance said. “When he came to town, they showed him where they were.”
Not all of the map work was thorough. Some marked the beds with longitude and latitude. Some used control points such as “brick
store.” By the time they finished, Winslow and his crew had mapped reefs within 60 by 20 miles of waterways, Ballance said. Vague references and all, the maps provided enough detail for the mathematician
more than a hundred years later. Years earlier, they had been enough for the Virginia
and Maryland oystermen who came and harvested and exhausted the stock. “It
went the way gold rushes do,” said Ballance, who believed
the state’s plan was a good one. But there was no way to police such a vast expanse of water. North
Carolina watermen continued to dredge after the Maryland
and Virginia boats left. Blame flew, and much of it landed on Winslow. “They
blamed him for mapping where the beds were because people could find them and dredge them,” Ballance said. “He went back home not under the best of circumstances.” Ballance has a different take: Winslow might have expedited what happened,
but it would have happened anyway.
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| Ballance, an Ocracoke fisherman, couldn't imagine living elsewhere, Chris Curry/The Virginian-Pilot |
They are colleagues of sorts: Winslow, a military man from up north, and Ballance, a fisherman from Ocracoke who wouldn’t live anywhere else. Too big, he reasons. The island is
quiet in winter, and in the summer, he can get out on his boat and travel north. Beyond the village, most of the island is
owned by the National Park Service and remains undeveloped. After Ballance
computerized Winslow’s maps, he set out on his 18-foot fishing boat to find the oyster reefs with GPS and side-scan
sonar. He’d drop a toothless dredge down below to see what remained of the reefs. He plotted more than three dozen beds
from New River to
Wanchese. Some are still active. Some are just low mounds of shell. He finished the map work in January. The result: a database
of multi layered maps with 6,000 features the fisheries division is already putting to use. “Before, no one knew where
they were,” Ballance said recently, walking at his home
along the old family land that holds pieces of foundation from his grandfather’s house. Ballance isn’t done learning about Winslow. Records that once belonged to the 19th-century lieutenant were
recently turned over the National Archives: a scrapbook, oyster counts, letters and his side of what happened in North
Carolina following the making of the maps. Ballance
is thinking of making a trip to Washington, D.C.
The preceding article, which was published in the Sunday, May 13, 2007 edition of the Virginian-Pilot, was
reprinted with permission.
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