The Bridge That Changed Chincoteague

  _By Tiffany Amber Stockton

For centuries, both Chincoteague and Assateague Island existed as a world unto themselves. They sat as a barrier between the mainland and the sea, a salt-scented haven surrounded by marsh and tide.

Four miles! That's how far the island sat from the mainland.

Islanders relied on boats and ferries to reach the mainland. Groceries, mail, supplies, and even doctors came by water, and life flowed with the rhythm of the tides. That isolation shaped a culture of self-reliance and a close-knit community that became as much a part of the island’s identity as the oysters and ponies.

Then came the bridges. Six, to be exact.

When the Island Connected to the Mainland

The causeway and drawbridge officially opened in 1922, and it served as the beginning of transformation. The wooden planks stretched across the marsh like an invitation to progress. Locals watched the slow transition as cars replaced boats, tourists arrived with cameras, and new businesses cropped up along Main Street to serve them. For the first time, Chincoteague was accessible to anyone curious enough to cross.

This is an excerpt from the book: You Wouldn’t Believe: 44 Strange and Wondrous Delmarva Tales, written by Jim Duffy.

"The road was quite an engineering feat. A canal was dug out alongside the proposed route so that crews and supplies could access the construction area. Humongous “mud-digger” machines scooped up muck from here and there, then dropped that muck inside of pilings sunk into the marsh. Multiple layers of oyster shells went atop that mud. Heavy rollers packed those shells down. More mud went atop the shell layers. Six separate bridges would be built to carry the roadway over the various creeks, sounds, and narrows between Chincoteague and the mainland. One of those bridges would have a newfangled drawbridge to let boats through."

At first, some celebrated. Others worried. Older islanders spoke wistfully of quiet nights when only the sound of gulls and wind filled the air. Eventually, talk of land sales, vacation cottages, and “outsiders” occupied most conversations.

Yet the bridges and causeway also brought opportunity. Children could more easily attend mainland schools, fishermen could sell their catch to more markets, and merchants found steady income beyond the tourist season.

This was the era when families like mine witnessed firsthand the island’s shift from insular to interconnected. I remember my grandfather talking about seeing the very first automobile on the island after it crossed the drawbridge. And for my great-grandfather, the growth eventually brought new clients into his barbershop, which helped him better feed his family.

In hindsight, that bridge became a symbol. It connected not only two pieces of land but two ways of life. It tested the island’s resilience and reminded its people that progress, though sometimes uncomfortable, can coexist with preservation. The islanders have made sure of that by honoring the traditions handed down from generation to generation while valuing the natural beauty and wildlife of the islands.

Today, visitors drive across the modern causeway (the six bridges are now each less than 30 years old) with little thought to the history beneath their tires.

Yet, Chincoteague still balances that same tension. It teeters between holding fast to its roots while also welcoming change. The bridge stands as both a literal and metaphorical link between past and present, reminding us that even when the tide of time brings new currents, the heart and resiliency of the island endures.

Another island strikes this same balance, although the governing leaders decided to not allow gas-powered vehicles there. Read more about Mackinac Island between the larger part of Michigan and the Upper Peninsula.

NOW IT'S YOUR TURN:

* Have you ever visited a place that felt “frozen in time” until modern development changed it? How did you feel about that shift?

* What do you think communities lose or gain when they become more connected to the wider world?

* If your hometown had a “bridge moment” that changed its history, what would it be?

Leave answers to these questions or any comments on the post below.

** This note is for our email readers. Please do not reply via email with any comments. View the blog online and scroll down to the comments section.

Come back on the 9th of each month for my next foray into historical tidbits to share.

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BIO

Tiffany Amber Stockton has embellished stories since childhood, thanks to a very active imagination and notations of talking entirely too much. Honing those skills led her to careers as an award-winning and best-selling author and speaker, while also working as a professional copywriter/copyeditor. She loves to share life-changing products and ideas with others to help them get rooted in truth and live a life of purpose.

Currently, she lives with her husband and fellow author, Stuart Vaughn Stockton, along with their two children, two dogs, and five cats in southeastern Kentucky. In her 20+ years as a professional writer, she has sold twenty-six (26) books so far and has agent representation with Tamela Murray of the Steve Laube Agency. You can find her on Facebook and GoodReads.