This is a shot from the Sea Breeze, located on what is currently known as Gwynn's Island but which any day now could become an underwater cafe in Milford Haven based on what we've read the past several days.
Below is the conclusion to Mathews Mountain Man's (MMM's) piece.
Gwynn’s Island: The Final Chapter
Scenarios III & IV
by Mathews Mountain Man
There are a couple of other strange scenarios that I
That’s right; you read it here first, although I’ve already said that it wasn’t my idea.
This proposition is not as strange as it seems. Sinkholes develop in many ways, commonly forming in swamps or areas where “standing” or stagnant water is often found. Florida is littered with swamps and sinkholes; and, topographically Florida and Gwynn’s Island have a lot in common. Too bad the winter weather’s not the same.
Anyway, my expert source, who, I assure you, believes in the validity of his own ideas, has observed that rainwater on Gwynn’s Island tends to collect around the post office, a central location that is at the corner of Old Ferry Road and the respective Bay Haven’s. If you need to see this for yourself, take a trip to Gwynn’s Island after a heavy rain. My source argues that this is the beginning of a sinkhole. Who’s to say he’s wrong?
So, as the sands of Gwynn’s Island sift through some unseen hourglass my eternally optimistic source, and first-order relative, will take his stand square in the middle of the intersection next to the post office. He will wait, and wait, and wait, until he is sucked through the earth’s core with the last grain of Gwynn’s Island, only to appear on the other side of the world standing atop a beautiful mountain. If that happens, I think I’d like to go with him.
I will relate the final story as it was told to me, but I make no claims regarding its authenticity, unless, of course, you choose to believe it.
The final scenario by which Gwynn’s Island may be “lost” (this has nothing to do with a Darma time machine) is based on a little know $1,300,000 study conducted by the U.S. Coast Guard. In 1966, a well known scientist named Buddy Rowge, hypothesized that, due to the expansion properties of freezing water, every time Milford Haven freezes the Island is pushed farther away from the mainland. He further hypothesized that based on average annual freeze-thaw cycles the Island was moving away from the mainland by a ½ inch each year. Given that the expansion allowance engineered into the Gwynn’s Island Bridge was 4 inches, Rowge’s hypotheses were troubling. It was feared that if the Island moves beyond the 4 inch allowance someone will open the bridge and not be able to close it.
Three years after Rowge proposed his thesis, the Mathews County Board of Supervisors asked the Coast Guard to conduct a study. After an exhaustive series of pre-freeze and post-thaw measurements, taken at ebb-tide and flood-tide, during waxing- and waning-moons, and a host of multivariate analyses of covariance accompanied by Newman-Keuls pair-wise comparisons, the U. S. government produced a 1600 page pork chop dooly verifying that every time Milford Haven froze over, Gwynn’s Island was pushed away from the mainland. The average annual rate of separation, however, was slightly higher than Rowge estimated.
After the initial panic, a minor real estate boom and three months of heated debate in closed meetings of the Board of Supervisors, Rowge’s twelve year old daughter came forward with a solution. “Just leave the bridge closed whenever Milford Haven freezes over,” she said.
“But, how do you know that will work,” asked one of the supervisors.
“It says so in the report.”
“Where?” asked the supervisor.
“On page 1526,” she replied.
Little Miss Rowge was an instant hero. She was given a key to the court house, free hot-dogs and fries for a year at a local diner and was awarded a full scholarship to the regional community college. And, to this day, when Milford Haven freezes over, the bridge remains closed, unless, of course, a boat needs to pass through.
Okay, so the idea that Gwynn’s Island is going to be pushed away from the mainland by ice is a wee bit of a stretch, but it is slowly disappearing. If it happens fast, it’s every woman for herself (I know who reads this blog). Sell if you can, but you better look, with haste, for an alternative habitat. If it happens slowly, that’s a different story. Only those who hang around the Island for a few years at a time will see it happening.
Talk about opportunity; a clever real estate agent might sell the same property ten times before it succumbs to the elements, all-the-while pointing to the ever expanding marshland surrounding the house as a “hard to find” feature. By the time the new property owner catches on to the long term threat to his or her investment, another prospective buyer is all up in a lather looking for place to show off their new found wealth. Gwynn’s Island = waterfront property = CA-CHING...
(Insert profound statement here).
Chesapeake Bay Woman's
Currently, the only thing between Queens Creek (where I live) and the bay is Gwynn's Island, which plays a strong zone defense against oncoming nor' easters and provides a great buffer between horrific winds and
If the island is moving farther away from the mainland, perhaps the day is nigh when I will live bayfront instead of merely creekfront. With no island to buffer us, the first nor'easter that comes through we'll all be
Thanks, Mathews Mountain Man, for contributing and giving
If anyone else with any ties to Mathews would like to contribute, please
Stay tuned for Three
As in Thursday.