For One American Island Destination, Coronavirus Feels Worse Than a Hurricane

Cities like Rodanthe, North Carolina are used to being cut off from the mainland due to hurricanes. This is different | AFP via Getty Images

No one knows how long COVID-19 will keep the sleepy Outer Banks cut off from the mainland

On North Carolina’s Outer Banks, closing the bridges is nothing new. The same thing happens every year during hurricane season when severe weather forces evacuations and shops and restaurants to literally shutter. This time, however, no one knows how long COVID-19 will keep the sleepy islands cut off from the mainland.

“I understand why the bridges are closed,” says local restaurant owner Leigh Raskin. She pauses, “But selfishly I want them open.”

The string of barrier islands known as the Outer Banks hugs the northeastern North Carolina coast. Unless accessed by boat or plane, people reach the islands by driving across long bridges from the mainland. From late spring through early fall, the tourist season breathes life into the island towns. The sugar-sandy beaches and small-town charm attract family vacationers, surfers, fishermen, and watersports enthusiasts, and the population swells from 36,000 to 200,000 in the span of a week.

Once cool weather sets in, quietude returns to the islands. Many small businesses close during the winter months, and residents working restaurant and retail jobs find themselves on a break. Come March and April, though, the area revs back to life as the temperature warms and tourists begin their return.

The decision on March 17 to restrict the Outer Banks to only property owners occurred the same day North Carolina’s governor issued a mandate closing restaurants and bars to dine-in service. As other eateries in the state scrambled to reach their customer base through carryout meals and delivery, the Outer Banks’ dominant industry lost the majority of its patrons to the mainland. With the bridges providing the only way of reaching the remote islands by car, blockading them siphoned off the population’s main source of income during its most economically depressed time of the year.

Raynor Garey / Getty Images

The Atlantic Beach bridge is one of the main lifelines to the Outer Banks

“When you close the bridges you shut off 70 to 80 percent of this population’s paycheck,” says chef Wes Stepp, owner of the seafood-focused Red Sky Café and NC Coast Bar and Grill in the town of Duck. Stepp’s restaurants, like those of his peers in the industry, were living off their last lines of credit when the bridges closed and dine-in service ceased. Now his employees fear for their summer season.

Tourism-driven economies like the Outer Banks rely on the busy season to earn the bulk of the annual income. Here, restaurant employers and staff have only four months — seven if they’re lucky — to secure their earnings. Most places close after early fall, and those that stay open reduce staff and hours. Several take out loans to squeak by until April. Then, they depend on Easter Weekend and spring break to usher in the first trickle of tourists.

When each day in the high season affects the total income for the year, even minor disruptions can do serious economic damage. “In a hurricane we have insurance to cover closing our doors, food spoilage and other damages,” says Madalyn Roberts, president of the Outer Banks Restaurant Association. “This is something we’ve never seen before, and we’re having to take it day by day.” For the time being, no one can say how or whether insurance will compensate for lost business.

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Across the country, the hospitality industry is struggling in the wake of similar dine-in bans and closures. But for businesses in remote, hyper-seasonal destinations, like the Outer Banks, the blow hits even harder — not only blocking much-needed income, but halting all preparations for the eventual tourist season. This spring’s usual recruiting efforts and trainings have been replaced with layoffs and cut shifts to the skeleton crews of year-round staff.

And unlike businesses elsewhere, a ready customer base may or may not be waiting to help these local establishments recover from weeks — and potentially months — of lost revenue. “The big cities where everything is shutting down, like New York, Seattle, and LA, their patrons will still be there when they open back up,” says Raskin, who owns and operates the Duck wine bar Eventide, formerly known as Waves Pizza Café. “Each day, spring break vacation cancellations increase and the number of summer reservations dwindle. If this doesn’t open back up until the mid-summer, we’ve lost half our income for the year.” For the time being, employers and employees scrape together everything they have to crawl toward Easter, when they pray the bans — both on the bridges and on dine-in service — lift.

Establishments keeping their doors open have owners and chefs working fast to adapt their business models to suit carryout and delivery orders. But “people don’t think of most restaurants here as to-go,” Stepp says.

Celeste Osorio

Chef-restaurateur Wes Stepp hopes adapting his meals to takeout will help make up for a portion of the lost income

Stepp’s one of the lucky ones. His brand includes catering and personal chef services that place carryout and bulk orders in his portfolio. Even still, the revenue doesn’t cover his small staff taking phone calls, cooking, and delivering orders — they’re all there as volunteers. At other restaurants, adjusting menus and keeping the kitchens running leave many questioning if it’s worth the meager sales. Many find that it’s not and close.

“The locals down here can’t support the restaurants,” Raskin says. “If you don’t own a business down here, you work for a small business, and we can’t look to them to survive.” So, for the majority of the Outer Banks community, paychecks will cease completely until the bridges reopen. “If you don’t own a business down here, you work for a small business, and we can’t look to them to survive,” Raskin says.

But what gives her and others hope is the sense of camaraderie. “There are so many people going through this, and the Outer Banks community is just incredible.” Discounts on food and merchandise encourage commerce at restaurants and shops. Individuals volunteer at their neighborhood restaurants with deliveries and other odd jobs. Tips soar for delivery and carryout and delivery orders.

“Whenever this community is in crisis, it just reaffirms how beautiful it is, and everyone rallies around it,” says Raskin. “Everyone’s affected, but they’re still doing their best to lift each other up.”

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