I spent Day Two of my Carolina junket on Topsail Island, a barrier island in the Cape Fear region . I was drawn to Topsail (pronounced "Top-sul" by the locals) because of my enthusiasm for aviation history and for searching for tiny fossil shark teeth. Topsail Island may be the best place in the world to combine those interests.
Operation Bumblebee
Topsail Island was largely uninhabited before being seized by the U. S. government to serve as a the location of a secret Navy missile development program dubbed Operation Bumblebee. From 1947 to 1948, the Navy and John Hopkins Applied Physics Lab built and tested rocket-boosted, ramjet-powered missile prototypes on Topsail. (For those who aren't that into this stuff: a ramjet engine uses the engine's forward motion, rather than a rotating air compressor, to compress air. Fuel is ignited in the compressed air stream, producing thrust. Ramjets have to be accelerated to a high speed before they become effective.)
The goal of the Bumblebee program was to develop a ramjet-powered supersonic surface-to-air missile with a range of 10-20 miles. The Navy built facilities on Topsail to build and test missiles, and many of the structures associated with those facilities survive: the former missile assembly building houses the Missiles and More Museum; the concrete launch pad serves as the patio of the Jolly Roger Inn; the firing point control tower is a house; several of the photographic towers are also houses, while others currently sit abandoned. Missiles would be assembled in the assembly building, transported the short distance to the firing point, then fired over the water to be tracked along their flights via the photographic towers.
Topsail Island was largely uninhabited before being seized by the U. S. government to serve as a the location of a secret Navy missile development program dubbed Operation Bumblebee. From 1947 to 1948, the Navy and John Hopkins Applied Physics Lab built and tested rocket-boosted, ramjet-powered missile prototypes on Topsail. (For those who aren't that into this stuff: a ramjet engine uses the engine's forward motion, rather than a rotating air compressor, to compress air. Fuel is ignited in the compressed air stream, producing thrust. Ramjets have to be accelerated to a high speed before they become effective.)
The goal of the Bumblebee program was to develop a ramjet-powered supersonic surface-to-air missile with a range of 10-20 miles. The Navy built facilities on Topsail to build and test missiles, and many of the structures associated with those facilities survive: the former missile assembly building houses the Missiles and More Museum; the concrete launch pad serves as the patio of the Jolly Roger Inn; the firing point control tower is a house; several of the photographic towers are also houses, while others currently sit abandoned. Missiles would be assembled in the assembly building, transported the short distance to the firing point, then fired over the water to be tracked along their flights via the photographic towers.
Map of Project Bumblebee structures (on display in the museum). Missiles were fired from the firing point and observed from a series of three-story concrete towers, most of which are still standing.
I didn't find all the towers, but I took pictures of most of the ones I did find. Going from south-to-north . . .
Tower 1 is now part of a residence. It's clearly marked. The portion to the right is the original tower; the remainder of the structure is a later addition.
The control tower is a residence.
Tower 3 sits abandoned. It was incorporated into a residence, but apparently the remainder of the residence was destroyed by Hurricane Fran in 1996.
I don't know which tower this is because I lost track of how far up the island I had driven -- it would have to be 6, 7, or 8, I think. It was used as a pier house. The pier is now destroyed, and the tower stands gutted.
A still shot of a missile being fired (photographed in the museum).
The Allure of the Tiniest Shark Teeth
I spent most of my morning on Topsail looking for fossil shark teeth on the beach. If you don't see the appeal in this activity, I'm not sure I'll be able to explain it so I'm not going to try. I like it. It's fun. It's relaxing. It's challenging. That's it.
I spent most of my morning on Topsail looking for fossil shark teeth on the beach. If you don't see the appeal in this activity, I'm not sure I'll be able to explain it so I'm not going to try. I like it. It's fun. It's relaxing. It's challenging. That's it.
Topsail Beach. Not a bad place to spend a morning. I would guess that most people who hunt for shark teeth are in "bigger is better" mode. I have come to realize that I'm doing just the opposite: I'm looking for the smallest teeth I can find. Don't get me wrong -- if I lucked into a Megalodon tooth like the ones that started washing up here last fall it would be a thrill for sure. But it wouldn't take near as much effort as collecting these tiny little buggers that I spend my time actively looking for. Megalodon tooth? Whatever. Try finding the ones that look like they belong to sharks no bigger than goldfish.
The appeal of the small teeth to me is, I think, the "ah-ha" of locating things that everyone else has overlooked. Not to analyze myself too much, but I think the same appeal is also part of my approach to archaeological problems: I've always liked locating and using unspectacular sources of data that others ignore and finding ways to squeeze a little bit more out of less. It doesn't matter how many times others have gone back and forth across the same beach, there's still more information there to be found: the sexy discoveries in no way exhaust the landscape of data.
The appeal of the small teeth to me is, I think, the "ah-ha" of locating things that everyone else has overlooked. Not to analyze myself too much, but I think the same appeal is also part of my approach to archaeological problems: I've always liked locating and using unspectacular sources of data that others ignore and finding ways to squeeze a little bit more out of less. It doesn't matter how many times others have gone back and forth across the same beach, there's still more information there to be found: the sexy discoveries in no way exhaust the landscape of data.
A tiny shark tooth next to a footprint in the sand.
Topsail Beach was the best shark tooth beach I've been to in the Carolinas so far (I've also spent some time at Edisto and Folly). Over the course of about four total hours of intensive searching I picked up 40-45 teeth (some very wave-worn and/or broken). That averages out to about one tooth every six minutes or so. That's pretty good in my book.
Today's winner of the Tiny Tooth Award.
A Mailbox at the End of the World
If you drive as far south on Topsail as you can, then go to the beach and walk as far south as you can, you'll soon be on a new part of the island. The southern tip of the island has been growing at a rate of about 100 feet per year. There aren't any houses there (yet), just sand, water, dunes, and plants. It was a nice place to be. And it has a mailbox.
If you drive as far south on Topsail as you can, then go to the beach and walk as far south as you can, you'll soon be on a new part of the island. The southern tip of the island has been growing at a rate of about 100 feet per year. There aren't any houses there (yet), just sand, water, dunes, and plants. It was a nice place to be. And it has a mailbox.
The mailbox in the image above (taken by me, today) was back a few feet from the beach, nestled just inside the dunes. I'm not sure if this is the same installation shown in these photos from 2013, but it's clearly a different mailbox. There are notebooks inside filled with messages left by visitors. I wanted to read some, but I had to get out of the open before a storm hit.
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