The Outer Banks: Continued

Sunday - To The Coast
I’ve always loved the coast, particularly traveling the intercoastal waterways, bridges leapfrogging from island to island. So, I was very excited when I crossed the bridge over to Roanoke Island. I made a quick stop at the visitor center to pick up a map of the islands and started driving toward Kitty Hawk, north of Nags Head. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but when I crossed over the final bridge onto the Outer Banks, I was assailed by rampant development. Beach homes crowded the beachfront and strip malls and condos and surf shops stretched the main road for as far as the eye could see. It was somewhat depressing. 17 miles of strip malls later, I arrived at Kill Devil Hills, the birthplace of modern flight. It was a big hill with a monument to the Wright Brothers on top. Great view, but it’s a hill. The museum was closed for renovation, so in defense of the park service, I’m sure it is usually more interesting. An hour later, I’m driving south, back the way I came, heading for Jockeys Ridge State Park. I passed it on the way north and saw a magnificent photo opportunity. The Annual Outer Banks Kite Flying Competition was in full swing. When I had driven past there were no fewer than 2 dozen enormous kites (a few as large as a VW beetle) aloft in the wind and dozens of smaller aerobatic kites zipping about. Beautiful. Upon my return, I guess the competition had started; most of the kites had been reeled in. Darn. I went for a hike in the sand dunes anyway. Time was stealing away and I started down Highway 12 toward my destination of Hatteras, 70 miles to the south. I was relieved crossing over to Bodie Island and the beginning of the Cape Hatteras National Seashore, the strip malls vanished. For the next 65 miles, the development was sparse, although there are a couple ramshackle towns playing host to confluences of multi-million dollar beach homes. Highway 12 goes on forever with sand dunes and beach on one side and intercoastal marsh lands on the other ( I can’t imagine how nightmarish this drive would be during the peak beach goers months). I stopped a number of times to walk along the beach or hike a nature trail. Fishermen were everywhere and there were still enough blue-haired tourists on the road to make the drive interesting. Around 3:30, I decided I needed to get moving again, so I could see the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse before the light settled for the evening. The lighthouse is the tallest in the US and one of the most visually striking with a black and white spiral pattern. I went for a long walk along the beach with the lighthouse in the background. I drove the final leg into Hatteras Village as the sun was going down and checked into the motel. Hatteras was something of disappointment, I had envisioned the idyllic fishing village and found nothing much of a village to speak of, just a lot of really big empty homes and closed shops. That night I ate at the only good restaurant remaining open, most were already closed for the season, and had a fabulous meal under the watchful eyes of the locals, who were curious about the out-of-towner eating dinner by himself. I turned in for the day around 10pm.

Monday – The Return Trip
6am came awfully fast. I was showered, packed, and sitting in line for the 7am ferry to Ocracoke Island by 6:35am. This would be a 40-minute ride. I had a front row seat on the boat and was able to watch the sunrise blazing orange over the lower portion of Hatteras Island. By the time the boat docked at Ocracoke, clouds had moved in and blotted out the sun. Ocracoke Island is a beautiful sliver of land that extends 14 miles from north to south. The road was enveloped in mist, on the windward side a dune protected cars from the ocean winds and on the right, the leeward side, water. I stopped to walk on the beach for a little while. Beautiful. I had a 9:00am ferry reservation for the crossing to Cedar Island, NC, so I couldn’t dally long. The town of Ocracoke is the fishing village I had envisioned, run down, weather-beaten and surrounds a horseshoe shaped harbor, complete with pelicans perched on the dock poles. Blackbeard, the pirate, supposedly hid out here. It is a really cool little town, cut off from everything save for the boats bringing in tourists. I ate breakfast at a little restaurant shack before getting in line for the ferry. The crossing would be a 24 mile, 2 hour, journey across Pamlico Sound. Shortly after we left the harbor, the skies opened up and it began raining. It was really quite beautiful. I spent most of the trip sitting under the tarp on the observation deck. At one point, I put on my rain jacket and walked to the front of the boat, and stood there in the rain. No sooner had I leaned against the railing, when a dorsal fin broke the surface of the water off to the right of the boat. A large pod of Porpoises passed directly in front of the boat. A number arched out of the water within ten feet of me. The boat arrived at Cedar Island at noon and my journey began. The next 45 miles of back country roads pass through some of the most beautiful and inspiring intercoastal areas I’ve traveled through. Small ugly, ramshackle fishing towns dot the landscape, but the view is spectacular. Four hours of driving took me through back country roads and small 35mph towns, it was a long drive. By the time I finally reached Interstate 95, it was already 4pm. I made it home around 9pm, having driven non-stop, except to take on petrol, since 12 noon. I was exhausted.