Thousands of families come to visit Chincoteague and Assateague Islands. Few of them, though, have packed up and moved here and so quickly began calling this little seaside part of Virginia home. Tammy Rickman and her husband, Lee, did though and with their children have gotten into school and community activities, fished from our waters, explored hiking trails and woodlands and seem to know every shop on Chincoteague streets. Tammy, who teaches special education in Accomack County, began writing for www.wildponytales.info this past year. So did her daughter, Alissa Reid, now going into the 11^th grade at Chincoteague High who, as it turns out, knew a lot about horses before she discovered our famous wild ponies. Wild Pony Tales has asked Tammy to share her Island experiences with its readers in a column to be published weekly during the summer. This first account, though, tells us how she followed her heart to the Eastern Shore.

By Tammy Rickman

In the summer of 2001 my life had changed so much during the course of the past year and a half that I really had no expectations. I was contentedly enjoying the peace and serenity of the Shenandoah Valley, a majestic valley cradled between the Blue Ridge Mountains and the Allegheny Mountains near the northern tip of Virginia.

I used to joke that my love of nature came from my Native American Heritage. Over the years I came to believe in that a little more than even I knew at times.  I don’t know that those kinds of connections to nature can transcend that many generations, but something in me has always been connected to the wild and untouched parts of the world. Eventually I found my home among the mountains and spent eight wonderful years exploring the mountains of Virginia and West Virginia.

At this point in my life I had never seen the ocean. I had grown up in the South and spent 27 years along the coast of the Gulf of Mexico from Texas to Florida but I had never seen the ocean.

My husband, who was then still my boyfriend, came in from work for lunch in early August and announced we were going to the beach. Within an hour we were packed and off.

I barely remember the trip over. I was too much like a kid in a candy store, my mind full of expectations and wonderings.  What I do remember is the rain….it poured for hours and as we neared the Eastern Shore of Virginia the storms strengthened and lightning and thunder boomed, roared, and rolled across the sky.

The Eastern Shore is a small peninsula that is divided between Delaware to the north, Maryland and in the middle and Virginia in the south.  It is bordered on the east by the Atlantic and many barrier islands that dart the coastal landscape. To the west it is bordered by the Chesapeake Bay. At its southern tip the Bay meets the Atlantic and at the north it joins the mainland.

A spur of the moment trip, we had no reservations. We were headed to Ocean City Maryland; a busy tourist destination. The weather caused us to arrive in the night somewhere around 10 p.m., I think.  As we turned onto the main stretch of road that runs along the beachfront, lights greeted us. Hotel signs blinked…unfortunately most said no vacancy. It was like any boardwalk I had seen along the coast of the Gulf but it wasn’t the boardwalk I was there to see.

We checked prices on a few hotels and, after riding around for quite some time, we were trying to decide whether to go with a high priced vacancy or keep looking. As if someone flicked a light switch in the sky, thunder rolled and lightning flashed and all in sight went dark. Looking back later I wondered at the hand of destiny or of God. Whatever it was, our decision was made. It was stormy, hot and we had three small children. There was no way I was dealing with no electricity.

Luckily we had stopped at the local Wal-mart before hitting the road and purchased a tent just in case we found somewhere to camp and save some money.  That was the smartest move we had made thus far.

I don’t really remember much about how we got where we ended up.  A few signs and some vague references about an island and wild horses and we were off again, this time back to Virginia.  At that point I didn’t care I just wanted a place to stay.

It was dark so I don’t remember much about my first arrival on Chincoteague Island. What I remember was the cool breeze in my face and the smell of marsh in the air. The rain had stopped but the skies had not yet cleared so it was dark.  I remember the draw bridge and a few lights gleaming in the distance.

In the end we found what turned out to be Tom’s Cove Campground.  We pitched a tent, slept in the cool breeze, and woke to more sounds than I can begin to recall. I remember feeling slightly more alive than I had when I went to bed but I didn’t “get it” …not yet but I would….

We spent several days enjoying a long weekend. We played on the beach, swam in the Atlantic, saw wild ponies, and explored an Island. We learned about Pony Penning, what, when, where, how, and why. We had missed it by a weekend. I had never heard of Misty of Chincoteague, Marguerite Henry, or the Island for that matter before that weekend.

When it came time to leave I felt I had only had a taste of what was there and something tugged at me somewhere deep in my soul that I couldn’t explain… I had no idea what had begun that early August morn when I woke up on an Island, I couldn’t even imagine the impact it was going to have in my life.

We left and somehow I think a part of me stayed behind. I felt sad at leaving and wanted more.

The following summer of 2002 we returned for a five day weekend. My husband and I had married in January of 2002 and this time we had seven kids in tow because my step-children were here this time and it was Pony Penning time. The previous summer my children had been 2, 5, and 8. Now we had my 14 yr old step-son, 12 yr old step-son, my daughter was now 9, my step-daughter was 7, my oldest son was 6, my youngest step-son was 5, and the baby of them all, my youngest son, was 3. There was no “ours” we had plenty to raise with his and mine.

We were a bit more prepared this time. We had a reservation at Maddox Family Camp Ground. We arrived at a reasonable time, had researched what we wanted to try this time, and were a little less overwhelmed with everything new.

The five days sped by and we enjoyed the excitement of the Islands and the new experience of Pony Penning.  This would be the second in a list of trips to come. Unfortunately it would be two years before we returned. During the two years following our 2002 trip the desire to be on the island never stopped. The kids and I talked about it often.  At times I could smell the salt air of the marshes and at night I would dream of the gulls and wake to find their calls were only a memory.

In the summer of 2004 we were able to return this time for a 10 day trip. We again camped at Maddox and for the first time we were really able to slow down and discover this unique place. We spent time on the beach, we learned to saltwater fish, we hiked trails, watched birds, explored nooks and crannies, and fell more and more in love with this tiny Island. Leaving became harder with every trip.

We returned in 2005 and for the first time rented a house for another 10 day stay. This time we had two extra kids in tow.  By this time I had begun talking about moving here. At first it was a fanciful dream of retirement years. During the day it became almost natural to say, “It’s time to go home.” Home of course referred to the Lost Pearl. The Lost Pearl was and still is a nice house on a quiet street where we were staying.  The owners had named it because of a game they had invented to entertain guests. All over the house they had painted small pearls in obscure places and our kids loved spending evenings searching for another pearl. Either way, saying home and meaning a place on the Island had a good sound to it.

By the spring of 2006 being away felt more like being homesick. We came back in March during spring break for a week and again in July for Pony Penning for 10 days. The spring trip was a new view of the island outside of summer and only deepened the intensity to which I was drawn to this place. We stayed at the Lost Pearl both times and found more pearls. Found new restaurants, fishing spots, discovered the Island Creamery, and began making friends among shop owners who by now recognized us.

In the years between 2001 and 2006 we had only began to discover the uniqueness of the islands. We visited the Oyster museum on every trip and discovered a man who had a name almost identical to my son.  We took a charter boat fishing trip with Captain Shawn of FiSHAWN Charters aboard the Torgtuga. Over the years we would go out with him many times and my daughter would eventually get lessons in steering his boat.  Aboard those cruises we participated in a study by the US Fish and Wildlife Services, met a dear old man by the name of “William the Fishman,” and made a friend or two of the captain and crew.

We returned in the summer yet again. We had no idea that it would be our last vacation to Chincoteague. We visited our many favorite spots and found a new one or two.  My heart was heavy every time we left and we had not crossed the bridge before talk of next time had begun.

Also in 2007 after a long three and a half years I graduated from college and began teaching the following August.  My job was not with a public schools system and was a 12 month position rather than a typical summer off job.  So in early 2008, during spring when money started to become tight and I would be working through summer, we decided not to make our yearly trip out to the Island.

We were more than disappointed since it was to be our first two week trip.  We resigned ourselves to the idea and focused on other matters. My second oldest step son graduated from high school that spring. We celebrated and focused on enjoying summer as it began.

I had no idea the turn that my life was about to take.  In early June life dealt us several big blows that were both emotionally draining and stressful.  I felt like my whole life had been thrown into a blender on high. After many long nights, talks, and prayers we decide it was time for a change. So by the end of June I had put in an application with Accomack County Public Schools on the Eastern Shore. It was not my only application but it was the one I was most intent on because of its location.

I was excited when I was called for an interview but let down when I was unable to get there as soon as they needed me to. Disappointed I kept putting in applications and going on interviews. Nothing panned out.

In July I decided to email the school system and find out if they had filled the position I had applied for.  I was asked how soon I could be there for an interview and arrangements were made for the following Monday, July 21^st.

Withholding the information from the kids, we packed for a four day camping trip and drove out on Thursday.  We enjoyed our weekend and on Monday morning I went on my interview. It went well and I drove back to the campground and helped pack up. Less than four hours after the interview and about an hour before we headed back to the mountains my cell phone rang. I had the job. I don’t really remember that trip back…or the three weeks that followed.

Yes I said three weeks! That was how much time I had to pack and find a place to live. We had spent our weekend trip looking for a rental, but in a tourist destination most rentals are not long term. We had found a few prospects and were hopeful. Within a week I had given notice at my job, began packing and secured a home on the Island that would last through the school year.

The next few weeks flew by and on August 8^, 2008 we made the drive home. It did feel like home. The kids had grown up here. They knew their way around the Island. We knew the street where our youngest learned to ride a bike on one visit. We had memories here and for reasons I still can’t explain some part of me belongs here.

The past year has been almost a dream. I still wake in the mornings amazed that I am finally here.  I left for work every morning even in winter with windows down smelling the marshes.  In the evenings I returned still in disbelief I was home. In the fall we brought apples back from a trip to the Shenandoah Valley and took a few to Captain Shawn’s house. We saw William the Fishman every Saturday at the farmer’s market and mourned him when he passed away in the spring of 2009.

We still buy our fish bait at Captain Steve’s bait and Tackle on Maddox Boulevard, we still get home made ice-cream at the creamery, but we have learned new things too.  I have been on the spring roundup of the wild ponies and watched the firemen prepare the carnival grounds for opening in July, we made a home at Union Baptist Church on Church Street, and participated in many more activities and community events.

The kids have made friends and seem to have always lived here. They go to the beach, surf, and play little league. My daughter is now a junior fire fighter for station 3 Chincoteague Volunteer Fire Department and on July 3^rd she was crowned Miss Chincoteague 2009. This year she isn’t a spectator to the carnival and Pony Penning, she is a part of it. Life has changed and so have we.

I have found new trails to hike, seen the beach change with the seasons, watched a storm serge flood the park, seen tides rise and fall, celebrated holidays, been to a block party, watched eagles hatch, foals gallop, and that is only the beginning.

I have also come to love and appreciate Chincoteague and its people far more than I could have ever imagined. They are a unique and resilient people with a rich history.

Most of all, I have found myself in all of this.  On one of our trips over the years I read a poem that stated, “Once you’ve slept on an island your never quite the same.” I still don’t know what it is that connects me here. The feeling has never gone away. I still marvel at this place and its people.

In June of this year we moved after our lease was up and believe it or not I drive by the house we use to stay in every day  that I pull out of my drive way. We moved just a few hoses away. Almost every day I drive down the street where my oldest son taught his little brother to ride a bike. How ironic God can be.

In my 36 years I have traveled to 18 of our wonderful United States and to the beautiful country of Canada.  Nothing anywhere has ever called to me as deeply as this tiny barrier Island. I can’t even say I will never leave. I still love to travel and I dream of many places…Alaska, Australia, Colorado, Tuscany…well you get the idea…

For now I am deeply content. I will always and forever be a “come here” and I am fine with that because whatever I am, I am home.