After coming back from the Outer Banks just this past Tuesday, I was invited back for the holiday weekend. With my bag barely unpacked, and thinking Dorian was just the name of a Disney character, I made my way back to Cape Hatteras.
Heading South on Highway 12
The highlight of this beauty of a weekend was the day spent on Cape Point. If looking at a map of North Carolina, the most eastern spot is a sliver of sandy real estate jutting into the Atlantic. It’s only reachable by four wheel drive. It’s also a prime surf fishing location.
On this busy and beautiful holiday, FWDs line up, hubcaps almost touching, to stake a claim to cast into their little piece of ocean for the day.
Rods and Reels and Reels and Rods…
For non-fishing folks, beachcombers can find shell remnants that are 10 times the size seen at most beaches.
Three gigantic broken conch shells (For my essay on Broken Shells, please visit my earlier post)
There are also plenty of photo ops, from pretty fat seagulls to that pretty tall, pretty old beacon of light about 1/4 mile to the west.
At 210 feet tall, the tallest brick lighthouse in the US is just a year shy of 150 years old Gull in flight
Watching fisherpeople of all ages take on the task of baiting then waiting is an essay in itself.
The very tip of the Outer BanksBaby spinner fish, who lives to see another day
Sometimes the fisherman wins. Usually the fish does.
The only one that didn’t get away
As the day winds down and the sun starts setting, the gear gets packed up and trucks one by one pull out.
Dorian is out there, now a Cat 5 hurricane, and like ones that’ve come before, it will either strike or skirt this place where sand meets sea. The hurricane may change it, but it will still remain.
My high school gal pal flew home and we went back to being teens this past weekend. While I can’t recount everything we got into, I can confirm that we ate great, cried a little, laughed a lot, and made some more memories of a lifetime in our 700 mile road trip. Here are some highlights:
Pine Knoll Shores:
We spent our first leg at the former ClamDigger hotel on Salter Path. It goes by another less colorful name now (the bland ‘Inn’) and has been renovated, but it’s the location that makes it a favorite. All rooms are full oceanfront, and being about halfway between Atlantic Beach and Emerald Isle makes it easy to go either direction for food and fun. An added bonus is a pretty darn good restaurant on site, a lounge with a pool table, and a tiki bar by the pool. Downside is the up charge for the beach umbrellas. But to kick off a few days in the sun, this was a good place to start.
View from my hotel bed. Bliss!
Wide, sandy, and empty! beach
Even if you don’t know where to go, you’re still
going to get there.
Ricky the Paddle-board Guide
Emerald Isle:
On a perfectly fine morning my friend decided it would be a terrifically great idea to paddle board. My friend is tall, graceful, athletic, and an experienced paddle boarder. I am the exact opposite of every one of those. I almost had her convinced I could not do this since I had only one pair of eye glasses and if they were lost in the InterCoastal Waterway , I could not drive her back to the airport, until she discovered my oversized sunshades came with a handy dandy head strap.
Off we go.
It was really fun.
And even though it’s called Stand Up Paddling (SUP) I went the entire distance kneeling, sitting, and dangling. I never stood. I also never fell off. Which is more than my friend can say.
Gotta crawl before you walk….
Swansboro:
What a treat to spend time in the quaint waterfront town of Swansboro! Cozying up to the White Oak River, the historic 18th century buildings have been restored to private homes as well as shops, restaurants and bed and breaksfasts.
One eatery, Yana’s, is a must. Whether for breakfast or lunch, there will be a wait most days for this 50s throwback diner. The burgers are good, the fritters are better, and the service is the best. You’ll know you’re there when you spot Elvis.
Fresh peach fritters doused in powered sugar. This is a half order, and Yana’s serves it as an appetizer. Like they say, life is uncertain, eat dessert first!
Cedar Island:
The next morning we checked out of the Inn formerly known as ClamDigger and headed north to Cedar Island. We were on our way to a 2.5 hour adventure crossing the InterCoastal by ferry to the island of Ocracoke. For a mere $15 per car this is a trip everyone should do at least once. There is nothing quite like being on open water on a barge.
Water, water everywhere!
Destination in sight!
Ocracoke Island Lighthouse
Ocracoke Island:
Ah, Ocracoke! What a wonderful, isolated, picturesque place you are! There is something just magical about Ocracoke. It has managed to defy the mightiest of hurricanes and still retain a charm and an appeal unlike any place I’ve ever been. Every time there, I find something that keeps drawing me back. This time around, we stumbled upon family plots of ancient fishermen and mariners. The mosquitoes kept us from lingering for long. But even though decades can pass between visits, as long as I am around and it is too, I will always have in the back of my mind a desire to come back and be an Ocracokan for a while.
One of Bonnie and Clyde’s?
Shells topping a picket fence
Old headstones of souls long gone home
After strolling along Silver Lake we popped into Howard’s Pub for a couple of delicious burgers and even better fries.
Then we drove to the other end of the 12 mile island to catch the one hour ferry ride to Hatteras Island. The blazing sunset was a gorgeous end to the day.
The next morning, after spending the night with a friend, we woke to take in the last day of our trek along the N.C. coast. We visited two of the most famous landmarks in America, the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse and the Wright Brothers Memorial.
Cape Hatteras Lighthouse:
The last time I visited the Lighthouse was in 1999, during the historic and daring relocation of the Lighthouse 1/2 mile inland. The beach and foundation the massive structure was located on was eroding, and amid a great deal of controversy, the megaton brick lighthouse, the tallest in the US, 2nd tallest in the world, built in 1870, and only 15 feet from the surf, was moved inch by inch 2900 feet on railroad ties by house movers using Ivory soap. Word is that not a single brick crumbled.
Wright Brothers Memorial;
About 60 miles north of the Lighthouse is Big Kill Devil Hill, the almost 100 foot tall massive sand dune the Ohio brothers Wilbur and Orville Wright first took off in flight. The memorial on top of the dune, which has been covered with vegetation to stabilize the shifting sands, stands another 60 feet high. Visitors can walk up to the tower but not into it, although tours inside have taken place in the past. Views from the the top of the hill are breathtaking and the constant winds make it easy to see how the inventors decided to use this area to test their flying machine. A museum on the site houses a full size replica of the first flyer. The original is on display at the Smithsonian.
North Carolina is rich in natural beauty and history. A trek along the coast with an old friend was a fitting end to the summer.
Do you have a special weekend trip that you’d like to recommend? Please share your suggestions in the comments section. Thank you for visiting my blog!
In my summer quest to journal about my treks on trails, today’s story is a bit of a departure.
I’m by the sea at the moment. It is my escape. I’m drawn to it when I’m happy, even more when I’m sad. It restores my soul. Yesterday was not a good day. So today I find myself walking along the sand, with the waves barely licking my toes. While this is not a marked trail through majestic trees or along a mountain pass, it is the path where earth meets sea meets sky.
I came across people looking down, searching for that perfect sea shell, spying one, picking it up, and tossing it down as soon as they see it’s cracked or worn or ugly underneath. And I am suddenly irritated by this. There are millions if not billions of shells. They are tossed and pounded and beaten and seldom survive raging storms unscathed. Then I see them. Three broken shells. 
All three had their best sides showing to the world. But, when you pick them up and look a little closer, you see the broken edges, the scars, the cracks. It’s easy to imagine someone coming along, reaching down to pick up and take that shell, then tossing it aside when seeing the imperfections.
Broken shells are a sign of strength, of perseverance, of survival. They are defiant and tenacious, not giving up, not giving in. They are beaten and tossed by forces much stronger than they. But they are here, still. Broken shells are nature’s reminder to not give up hope.
I picked up all three imperfect, broken shells. I did not toss them back down.
One OAK Place 