It’s been a little more than a week since returning from our second summer adventure yet it feels more like months ago. I’m lamenting already but hopeful that more adventures will spring up in the fall and winter. For now, though I am still tackling the sand in the car, memories of a lovely week with my sis and family will have to calm the itch to pack another bag and be off somewhere….anywhere.
I’m listless and finding it hard to get back into the groove after truly doing nothing. The beach does that to me every time.
This time our destination was a bit more rustic than other beach trips: Ocracoke Island, North Carolina. We’re no strangers to North Carolina’s Outer Banks. We’ve done a fair amount of vacationing there, mostly on the northern part of the barrier chain in Duck and Corolla. Admittedly, we haven’t really explored a lot of the 130 miles of the thin strip of these barrier islands; we tend to drop beach chairs down into the sand and veg for the duration of a week. We hadn’t for example, ever driven beyond Nags Head and Roanoke Island, the very spot where I married Rocket-man years ago. Yep… The Lost Colony island of Roanoke.
Sis is the one who suggested this particular beach destination. She and her husband, on a whim, spent an overnight on Ocracoke last year when returning from a beach stay near Camp Lejeune, North Carolina. They were immediately smitten with its rustic charm.
“How do you get there,” I had asked at the time. “Isn’t it the most remote island in the Outer Banks?”
“You take your car and ferry over,” she said. “It takes about an hour.”
“Wow…you put your car on a ferry?” I said in wonder. I’ve taken ferries before. It’s not that I don’t know the concept of vehicles on a ferry it’s just I’ve just never put my car on one.
Before heading to our Ocracoke (pronounces just as you see it: like the vegetable Okra and the soft drink Coke) adventure we made a pit stop in Manteo, on Roanoke Island. Sis and I wanted to see our great-aunt, family historian, Auntie Lou and her husband, our Uncle Jack. Auntie is in her 80’s and now needs a cane to get around but her mind is still pretty much sharp as a tack. Uncle Jack sat mostly quiet as sis and I peppered auntie with questions. It was lovely to spend a couple of hours catching up on life and listening to some family-tree stories.
After we said our goodbyes we explored the area a bit, shopped, and decided on an early dinner as we planned an zero-dark-thirty departure for the Hatteras ferry the next morning.
The early morning sun shined happy as we drove through the little towns and quaint villages along the thin strip of land flanked by the Atlantic ocean on one side and the Pamlico Sound on the other. I was excited to pass through the tiny town of Rodanthe, the locale featured in Nicholas Sparks 2002 tear-jerker Nights in Rodanthe, which was adapted into a film starring Richard Gere. We also inched out way through Waves, Salvo, Avon, Buxton, and Frisco finally arriving to Hatteras where we would take the ferry over to Ocracoke Island. I was positively energized with excitement as we pulled into the Hatteras ferry station. As we queued-up behind a long line of cars sis stepped out of hers which was several cars ahead of us. I thought for sure we’d be the first ones here given that we woke up before the roosters.
How long is this going to take?” I asked sis. “There seem to be so many cars!”
“The line moves pretty quickly,” she said. “You’ll see…maybe a half-hour, tops. We’re just waiting for another ferry-boat to pull in. Don’t worry…this is going to be fun,” she added as she hopped back into the car.
Ah. She caught that hint of nervousness in my voice.
And fun it was! I was amazed that some folks stayed in their cars for the ride. The weather couldn’t be more perfect with the wind calm enough to be gentle on the hair…and yet there are people, sitting in their cars, sleeping or on their devices. I had to catch my myself in that moment of judgement: who am I to critique these folks? Perhaps they make the ferry trip often enough that the novelty of it all has worn off.
Standing at the front of the boat, rows of cars behind me, I inhaled the experience into memory. I breathed in deeply, feeling the subtlety salty ocean air far to my left and the Pamlico sound air directly to my right. As I strained to see land I caught sight of flying fish which makes all of us watching ooh and aah at the spectacle. Before an hour is up we are slowly pulling into the Ocracoke ferry dock.
At sixteen miles long, and at its widest point, three miles across, Ocracoke is barely five feet above sea level so flooding is always an issue. In fact, it rained two of the four days of our stay and large pools and lakes of water sprouted everywhere. There are no high rises or beach mansions so it’s mighty rustic as beach towns go. As of 2014, an estimated 591 people live on the island year-round. This “sand bar” of a place has some interesting history too. For example, It was, understandably due to its remoteness, a favorite hang-out for pirates back in the day. Edward Teach, better known as Blackbeard, frequently anchored just off the island. Apparently it was his favorite anchorage spot and it’s where he ultimately met his demise in 1718.
Vowing not to let rain spoil our time, we managed to get to the beach everyday. We frolicked a fair amount of time in the water on day two of our stay. My nephew had oodles of fun body surfing with his father and Zio “Luigi.” I also spent more time than usual in the water thanks to the peace of mind of my newly purchased Sharkbanz, a device intended to deter sharks by way of upsetting their electroreception. On advice by my dear friend, Miss Cookie who used the product during her beach week, I purchased one literally three days before our trip with only a quick perusal of the official website and a couple of YouTube videos. You can check out their site here: https://www.sharkbanz.com/pages/how-it-works
I had my Sharkbanz strapped to my ankle which, at first glance, could easily be mistaken for an ankle bracelet monitoring device for someone on parole or under house arrest. “HA….let’s give ’em something to talk about!” I thought as onlookers noted my accessory as I played in the water on my boogie board.
Of course, it was only after my trip that I delved into more YouTube videos to see that on occasion the device doesn’t work! Miss Cookie, had warned that Great Whites appear to be unaffected by the strong magnet device. They stalk from a distance and then purposefully aggressively strike to kill. Still, Ignorance is bliss, I say. Even if it was but a placebo effect, my “fashion” accessory allowed me to spend hours in the water without worrying much about what lurked below the surface. Later that night as I tossed and turned in the motel bed to the loud drone of the window unit air conditioner, I thought about my Starkbanz safely back in its proper box for storage. How about similar devices to deter snakes…and spiders…and frogs that fall atop one’s head?! Alas, sleep eluded all of us that night as powerful thunder and lightning tormented the tiny island for what seemed like hours.
Foggy-brained in the morning due to lack of sleep, we were all dragging just a bit. At a quaint coffee shop around the corner, the Ocracoke Coffee Co., people were all a-twitter about the terrific storm of the night and all the rain that came with it. As I stood in line for my java fix I caught bits and pieces of conversation from folks coming and going.
“What a night, eh?” said one guy who looked to be in his fifties.
“I know, amazing right? I just love lightning storms!” gushed the barista gal behind the counter. She sported Shamrock green braids gathered into a loose bun at the base of her neck. While I don’t have green hair I think I am stylin’ with my well-worn Chacos and Lululemon capris. Still, I feel like a fossil in that moment as the general consensus of the morning chatter in the coffee-house was just how “freaking cool” that lightning show was.
Am I the only one on the planet who doesn’t find it particularly soothing to be squarely under a thunder and lightning storm? As a side note, By chance I happened to read that last week severe lightning damaged the steeple of the Ocracoke Methodist church. It took out the wooden cross.
Ponder on the meaning of that weirdness whilst I think of more Ocracoke tidbits to share….