Conservation is often framed as a series of technical challenges: hydrology, engineering, biology, and even real estate. But if you strip away the wetland mapping, the habitat surveys and the land transactions, you'll find that conservation at its core is about creating and managing relationships. It is about how we relate to the land, how we relate to our history, and perhaps most importantly, how we relate to each other.
One of our current projects involves a partnership with American Rivers, Resource Environmental Solutions (RES), and the Town of Ramseur, North Carolina. American Rivers and RES are taking the lead in the dam removal, while Unique Places to Save is leading the effort to establish a city-owned greenspace that connects the Deep River Trail to Downtown Ramseur.
To get a better sense of what this project actually means to the people on the ground, I sat down with two of Ramseur's key leaders: Town Clerk Carol Akers and Mayor Hampton Spivey. I wanted to hear their stories, learn a bit about the town's history, and understand how growing up alongside the Deep River shaped their values and their vision for the town's future.
While they come from different backgrounds, their stories had something in common. Both have seen the river and the community go through many changes, declines, and challenges over the decades. Yet neither ever stopped loving the river or the town they call home. And now, they are using that enduring connection to fuel a comeback.
After sitting with them, it became clear that Hampton and Carol represent the two necessary foundations of good stewardship, much like the left hand and the right hand working together. While they both love Ramseur deeply, the lens through which they each view the river offers a nuanced, yet vital, distinction.
Hampton represents the "Left Hand," the deep and personal connection to the wild. His focus is on the river's intrinsic value, the idea that nature deserves to be healthy simply because it exists. Carol represents the "Right Hand," bringing a perspective rooted in community memory and the bonds between people and the places they've built together. Her interview is in Part Two of this series.
Here is the interview with Hampton.
Mayor Hampton Spivey, 81, is a self-described "river rat." His connection to the Deep River is as deep as the river itself. He spent his childhood swimming in it, sleeping on its banks, and watching it go from covered in pollution to a slow recovery.
Q: You mentioned moving to Ramseur as a child. Did you spend much time on the river growing up?
Hampton: We slept out on the river at least two, three weekends every month, all the time. We’d stay at a place back there called Desert Mount - it wasn't much but red rock and dirt. I woke up out there one time covered in snow. We didn't even have sleeping bags; we'd just take an old blanket or something. We lived like Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn.
There were about five or six of us guys here in town—we thought we owned the river. We were all tight. One time the school teacher asked, "Does anybody know where Doug Birch is? Would you go get him?" That was on Wednesday. I went down there and didn't come back [until] the next Monday. I just stayed down [at] the river
Q: That sounds like a very free-range childhood. Did you have access to boats? Hampton: We had a lot of boats on the river. We thought they all belonged to us! People put the boats out there and they didn't lock them. We never had any trouble with anybody. We also had cabins that other people built—like David Webb had a cabin down there with eight bunks—and they'd let us use them.
Q: It sounds like you explored pretty far upstream and downstream.
Hampton: We went up to Franklinville... that's about as far as you can go because of that big dam. But we went way down... we walked around Coleridge, High Falls, and Carbonton.
Q: Did you ever get into any dangerous situations out there?
Hampton: One time we tried to break the ice coming down the river. We took old cross ties and nailed two-by-fours to them to make a raft. My feet were so cold, I said, we're gonna have to get off and build a fire. I was gonna jump and grab a sapling, but... I didn't anticipate the raft moving... and I went right in. I liked to froze. When we got home, they helped me climb the pole on the front porch and go through the bedroom window to change clothes.
Q: You clearly loved the river, but you also saw the environmental cost of the local industry, right?
Hampton: The river... that's the reason these towns were built. If the river was not there, these towns wouldn't be here. But it was absolutely abused... the industrialists, the plant owners... they just dumped everything in the river. We used to throw a log in the river to break up that dye it would be that thick. About two to three inches.
Q: You are strongly supportive of dam removal. What does natural restoration mean to you in particular?
Hampton: That's the main thing with me about habitat improvement—what it does for the wildlife, the mussels, and the fish. You're talking about the Little Cape Fear minnow, the Cape Fear shiner. All this is doing is enhancing their habitat. And then the secondary thing is the people that [it] will draw [for] recreation.
Q: Who do you think the river belongs to? Hampton: Nature. It belongs to nature. Yes, and everybody.
Q: If you had to describe the dam removal’s impact on the river in one word, what would you pick?
Hampton: Healthy.
Read Part Two with Carol’s Interview
Projects like this remind us that conservation is about more than just hydrology or ecology; it's about building a foundation for resilient, vibrant communities. By supporting Unique Places to Save, you are directly contributing to projects that bridge the gap between ecological health and community revitalization.
Whether it's advocating for healthier waterways or supporting local greenways, your voice matters in ensuring these resources are protected for future generations.
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