THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, August 28, 1994 TAG: 9408260292
SECTION: CHESAPEAKE CLIPPER PAGE: 14 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Cover Story
SOURCE: BY PATRICIA HUANG, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Long : 161 lines
IT WAS ANOTHER hot summer Saturday afternoon. Boaters returned to enjoy the sunshine, cool water and warm sand, and children splashed around in their floats. Max, a pit bull, dashed off again, determined to fetch a stick.
But it wasn't the same.
Boaters all along the tiny strip of beach in Chesapeake noticed the difference. And old-timers, like Milton Foxwell, could tell you all about it.
Foxwell stopped throwing horseshoes and stared across the water at the empty cove nestled among the trees by the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway near Deep Creek. He shook his head.
Some boaters described the cove as the ``ultimate party place.'' Others reminisced about the ``cove culture'' of the good old days. All agreed that the natural beauty and calm waters of the cove was what had attracted them there. It had been a favorite getaway spot for years, they said. It was tradition.
But for now, Foxwell and fellow boaters are banished to the opposite side of the water, a thin strip of sand not far from Interstate 64. The privately owned cove, open for years to boaters, is now off limits because of increased vandalism and litter, its owner, Stanley G. Bryan, explained apologetically.
For Foxwell, 39, and others, this comes as a great loss. Foxwell, who has been coming to the beach for 25 years, pointed to signs across the water that read, ``Please keep area clean.'' He and his buddies had posted those signs on the trees across the way a few years ago when they found more and more trash lining the beach and woods.
``Every time I came here I'd haul about five bags of trash home,'' he said. But over the years, hordes of boaters were discovering the inlet, several acres in area, known up and down the Elizabeth River as ``The Cove.''
Now newly posted signs, flanking the ones Foxwell put up, read ``Keep Out. Private Property.'' Police officers patrolling the area routinely order boaters to back out of the lagoon, formed years ago at the site of a borrow pit.
Shaking his head once more, Foxwell sighed as if to say - another good thing ruined.
``There are hardly any places for boaters to go like this, where we could dock and the kids could be playing in the water or on the beach,'' said Desi Doucette, 38, who was sunning herself on her boat. ``This is what was so perfect about it. This has always been the best place to go in the world. And everyone's great here.''
A good time was always had by all at the cove, she said. People would pitch tents and spend the night, play volleyball, barbecue and even build bonfires.
Buddy Grimes, 60, of Portsmouth was walking the beach, waiting to break the bad news to his son, who was planning to camp out by the cove for the night. Grimes, who has been boating in the area for more than 20 years, said the cove was a Memorial Day tradition for him and his friends. He was disappointed, he said, but he didn't blame Bryan.
Nobody really did. ``I can't blame the man either,'' said Diane Fuson of Virginia Beach, who has frequented the cove for the past several months with family and friends. ``It was really nice, but people trashed it.''
The strip of beach across the cove, also owned by Bryan, was a pleasant place, but not as nice as the cove. Still, the sun was shining and people were friendly. Water-skiers still glided across the water and passersby cruised past, waving and smiling at other boaters.
All heads turned to watch a speedboat zipping through the water, leaving a rooster tail of spray behind it.
``Crazy, crazy,'' said Jeff Smith, 24, of Chesapeake. ``He's just showing off.''
``Uh-oh, here comes the wake,'' warned Tina Ford of Chesapeake.
Ford, who has been coming to the cove for six years, remembers the family-like atmosphere of the secure little haven. People would bring their hibachis and watch each others' children, even if they were strangers, she said. There wasn't as much traffic in the cove and very little wake.
``When you pulled into the cove, it was like an automatic speed limit and people respected it,'' she said. If they didn't, they'd be rebuked by the docked boaters.
Ford, 28, glanced at her 3-year-old son, Ryan. ``He took his first swim there,'' she reminisced. ``I kind of wish there was a way we could work it out.''
Down the strip of beach, Debbie Foxwell was thinking the same thing. Chatting with a friend, Howard Litchfield, she traded stories of the cove with him. ``All of our kids were raised out there,'' she said. ``I've even written books of poems about all these people, the boat people. . . . This is their world.''
Chesapeake police officers Mike Throckmorton and Rick White were standing in their patrol boat in the middle of the cove, redirecting boaters that pulled in. There were boats from as far away as Hampton and Poquoson, Throckmorton said, ``and before, it wasn't uncommon to even find sailboats passing through from New York or Florida anchored in here.''
Boaters docked on the strip of beach opposite the cove say they believe the area will become more dangerous because of increased traffic from boaters and skiers.
``It's just a real shame that people have to go ruin a good thing because there aren't many places like this,'' said Paul Fahnley, owner of Southside Marine a few miles down river. He added that during the cove's heyday, as many as 120 boats have been lined around the beach with more boats in the middle. ``I've been here when there have been so many boats all around that you couldn't squeeze another boat in,'' he said.
But those days are gone for now, said Bryan, who bought the 90 acres of property about three years ago.
``I hate to run them out of there because I just can't tell between the good guys and the bad guys,'' he said. ``There's always some people that spoil everything. . . . I may find some solution, but right now I don't know the answer.''
Density brings problems, said Bryan, a retired lawyer and Chesapeake native, and the cove has just gotten to be such a popular boating inlet that even those people who used to hold cleaning parties there can't control the litter.
And they can do little to control the vandalism. Just a few weeks ago, someone threw rocks at Bryan's shed, broke into it and stole a tractor battery. ``I left one of the tractors out once, and someone broke out all the gauges on it about a year ago,'' he said. ``But I overlooked it because I figured maybe the boaters didn't do it.''
A campfire left unattended burned about 10 acres of the property last year, Bryan said. And, more recently, a girl cut her foot on some broken glass at the beach, he said.
Walking along the trees by the beach, Bryan motioned at discarded bottles and cans and other litter strewn along the woods, saying that he came as often as he could to clean up what seemed the aftermath of someone else's good party.
He pointed to more trash someone had left in the weeds. ``At least they are up there and not in the water. Up there, at least I can clean it up,'' he said.
Bryan passed the remains of several campfires and even a barbecue grill that someone had permanently planted in the ground. Soon he reached a special spot on the cove. ``This here is my favorite spot because I can't take too much sun. And apparently someone else likes it, too,'' he said, pointing to wood that someone had nailed to two trees to form a coat rack.
Leaving the property towards the gate off Shipyard Road, Bryan passed more debris - more than 50 tires and a pile of junk, including an old refrigerator, a kerosene lamp and broken lawn chairs.
``It's just gotten out of hand,'' he said. ``I thought that anyone that would use the property at least wouldn't abuse it.'' ILLUSTRATION: Staff color photos by STEVE EARLEY
On the Cover
Clark Ray throws a horseshoe on the thin strip of sand not far from
Interstate 64 and across from the cove he once enjoyed visiting.
Boaters who once visited the cove congregate across from the private
property.
Staff photos by STEVE EARLEY
Boaters who once enjoyed the cove must now be content with the thin
strip of sand not far from Interstate 64.
The cove, top right, formed years ago at the site of a borrow pit,
is nestled among the trees by the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway.
Lenn Hanby, right, and his son Devon swim along the Intracoastal
Waterway.
Water skiers pass boats on the shore across from the cove near Deep
Creek.
Police officer Mike Throckmorton turns boaters away from the cove's
entrance.
by CNB