19th May to 22nd May 2023
Our continuing cruise up the very pleasant US-17 took us into North Carolina. Our next big ‘destination’ was to be The Outer Banks, a long thin set of sandy barrier islands that sit off the mainland, but we had a few stops along the way to get there.
First stop was a small beach town very grandly called Surf City. This was also on a barrier island called Topsail Island but we were booked into a park on the other side of the bridge that connected it to the mainland. The park was massive, tired, shabby and inexplicably expensive for what it offered. Most sites were occupied by long term RVs obviously being used as holiday homes with only a few spaces given over to journeymen like us. It had been raining heavily and our grassy site was half underwater as we set up. Squelching around in our flip-flops spirits were a little low but as soon as we were established, the food shopping was unpacked, the awning was out and the stuff inside was all set up for living again, things didn’t seem as bad. In fact we had a really nice view of the marshes out of back window and no near neighbours. The sun then came out and soon the standing water all drained away leaving us with quite a nice little pitch. We had a great impromptu chat with two North Carolinan chaps who were long term buddies and both had holiday homes here. They and their families had been coming here for decades and they spent their time either fishing (the park did have its own boat ramp) or hanging out together in a golf cart, cruising the park roads, drinking beers. They were mighty jolly and seemed to have life sorted.
We had stopped here due its proximity to ‘The Karen Beasley Sea Turtle Rescue Centre’. It was set up by Jean Beasley and named in memory of her late daughter, Karen who died of cancer and who insisted that her life insurance payout was used to fund the project. The centre does guided tours to help fund its work and the volunteer docents were really knowledgeable. Part of the work is protecting the turtle nesting sites on the seaward side of Topsail Island and the other part is rehabilitating injured or ‘cold shocked’ turtles. The predominant turtles on this coast are Loggerheads and this area is on the northerly edge of their range. The sex of each embryo is not predetermined when it is laid but is dependant on the ambient temperature in the nest as it develops. Cooler temperatures create more male embryos, warmer temperatures more females. To that end, the cooler temperatures of this more northerly area means it is important in supplying males for the species. The organisation has volunteers that patrol the beach early every morning to mark, cordon off and document new nest sites. A single egg is removed from each nest to send for DNA analysis and further research and when it is time for the eggs to hatch the volunteers dig a shallow trench from the nest towards the ocean to give the hatchlings a clue which way to go. Beach property residents are asked to turn off all porch lights during the nights of breeding season so the baby turtles don’t confuse them with the moonlight, which they need to follow to get to the water.
The hospital side of the operation had turtles recuperating in large aerated containers of water and most go on to be released back into the wild. Snooki was a large turtle that was a longterm resident who had bouyancy control issues. She will never be able to be released back into the wild and is looking for a forever home in a protective facility. It was very interesting and great to see some big turtles so close up.
After seeing the turtles we cycled over the bridge to the town of Surf City to find it abuzz. Again we had happened upon an event by accident: A community fair and concert on the green. ‘The Bridge Jam’. There were lots of market stalls, food trucks and music by a well known North Carolina Beach Music band, The Embers. We obviously were clueless as to their fame but there were a whole heap of folk on lawn chairs who were very excited to see them come onto the stage. We watched for a bit and then headed to the beach which was far more chilled and less developed than the horrors of Myrtle. There was a kids surf competion going on and loads of local looking people knocking about. There were surfers, walkers, runners, sunbathers. There were the amusing groups of teenagers trying to look cool but terribly self conscious of how cool the other insecure teenagers might think they are, or are not. Remember those years?! There were ‘beach cops’ patrolling for illicit drinking, smoking and vaping. There were juice bars, ice cream shops and the obligatory hotdog stand. Nick succumbed to temptation and had a mid afternoon chilli-dog which I might have shared with him. It felt like a relaxed beach town and we liked it a lot.
The next day we headed off. Initially we stayed on US-17 and this took us past the home of the US Marines Corps, Camp Lejeune. This is a 250 sq mile facility, home to 35,000 personel. The camp incorporates lots of beaches to allow for amphibious training and its location between two deep water ports allows for easy deployments. This whole area is saturated with soldier types and as we cruised down the road alongside the base every second business was a barbershop. No hair on the head of any Marine in this town shall touch any collar. Soon we turned off the main drag onto a single lane road that headed out to the end of the land, a promentary called Cedar Island Point. The route took us through beautiful marshlands that were almost deserted save for scatterings of dilapidated homes and sheds. It reminded us a lot of the west coast of Northland NZ for those of you who know what that’s like. Cedar Island point consists of two things: an RV park on the beach and a ferry terminal.
The ferry was our route to the Outer Banks and we were booked on the 7.30am the next morning. Camp was quiet, basic and again, a bit over priced, but staying here meant that our early start in the morning involved a journey of about 50 metres to get to the ferry check-in kiosk. We took a stoll on the deserted beach which was lovely and if it had been warmer might have invited a swim and we watched the last ferries of the day go and come.
In the morning we made tea-to-go, enjoyed a rare sunrise and joined the suprisingly long queue for the first sailing. The nearest civilisation was 45 mins away so most of our fellow travellers had had very early starts. Our crossing was going to take us 2 hours and cost us….brace yourselves….$30. Such a bargain that I cannot feel that the service can cover its costs but it was amazing. A new boat, loads of crew and very efficient service. We arrived on the OuterBanks in a village called Ocracoke, on Ocracoke Island. This seemed like a nice cool little village but we weren’t booked to stay here so we headed north. Eventually the land ran out and there was another ferry to catch to get to the next island, Hatteras. This was an hour’s trip, but mainly because it had to take a massive loop to avoid the shallows. This ferry was a ‘first come-first served’ service and cost a massive…brace yourselves again…..nothing. Nada. Rien. Free. Crazy! It counts as a bit of road, so funded by the state tax dollars. We like.
The islands are all generally very long and thin with the atlantic on one side and the sheltered Pamlico Sound on the other and at some points the land is only about 50-100 metres across. The single road is protected from the seaward aspect by a large sand dune, which is largely manmade in an attempt to protect the islands from the atlantic storms that must thrash them on a regular basis.
Our chosen stop was in a village called Rodanthe, of ‘Nights in Rodanthe’ fame, the 2008 romantic drama starring Richard Gere and Diane Lane. The original book was set in Rodanthe and the film shot here too. The homes here are mostly holiday homes or rentals and mostly built atop tall stilts to protect them from tidal surges. There are a few homes built right on the beach with their stilts below the high tide mark. They looked quite battered and I’m sure won’t last too many more seasons of winter storms.
We had high hopes for our stay here and had booked a whole week in which to soak up the sun and the beachy vibe. There really wasn’t any other reason to be here, or much else to do. Unless one is a kite surfer. Unbeknownst to us, this area is one of the top ten destinations world wide for the sport of having to wrestle a massive air sock whilst simultaneously balancing on a small board and then trying to go in the direction that you want whilst the wind is blowing at least 20 knots and trying to remove your arms from their sockets. It looks really hard work but does provide some spectatorial opportunities.
Our site was great, right on the sound with water views out of our back window. The only slight downside was the million watt security light which was situated on a pole right above us. It led to a blurring of daytime and nighttime and slightly messed with our circadian rhythmns.
Unfortunately our week here coincided almost exactly with a week of mostly shonky weather. It was cool and the consistant, strong, northerly wind nearly drove us insane. The bag of warm clothes that sits in the truck was raided for more layers and we piled the blankets back on the bed. It seemed crazy that only a few days ago we were sunbathing by a pool and sitting with a fan blowing on our faces. We did manage a few outings on foot to walk the beach and came back completely sandblasted with grains of sand filling our eyebrows and the fissures of our teeth. We also had a couple of trips out on the bikes. (An exhilerating downwind freewheel and a soul destroying grind upwind) One expedition was to visit the only nearby museum which was an old Lifesaving Station.
From here a team of federaly employed Life Savers formed part of a string of stations up the coast that kept lookout for boats and ships in distress. (A very common occurance given all the sand banks and storms.) When needed they performed rescues by rowing out in small boats or by shooting rescue lines to boats near the shore with explosive charges. The local family name Midgett features very commonly in the role of past lifesavers and pretty much every other local business even now is run by a Midgett. Another of the bike outings included the obligatory evening at a bar for burgers and beer. Our bar tender at ‘The Neptune Dive Bar’ was a very personable woman called Liz who had a Peruvian wife and a very suprising, and un-American, in-depth knowledge of European football and Grand Slam Tennis. She was a delight. She was also lamenting the unseasonal weather and said that it felt more like winter, a season that she and her missus usually escaped by spending a few months in Peru with their extended family.
This ended up being a real down-week for us so it was not a bad week to be ill. Nick was getting over a cold and I was in the thick of it with a hacking cough and feeling ropey. Our last RAST told us that this wasn’t Covid, but who knows. It wasn’t helped by having a two day hangover after our Neptune visit. I only had 3 beers but I think they might have been a bit stronger than I realised. My dwindling alcohol tolerance is very unfair.
The intermittant rain of the week deteriorated into torrential rain on our penultimate day. It lasted 24 hours and created lakes in the park and rivers on the road. It was so heavy that we couldn’t hear the TV – Never a good thing during a lock-in. It also was the deathknell for the mediocre wifi signal. We had to resort to reading our books. Good grief. It eventually stopped and the sun finally came out. Our last evening was glorious and hot and we could understand what we had been missing, finally appreciating the charms of this peculiar place. On our last morning we awoke to a flat calm day. There was not a breath of wind and the water of the Pamlico Sound was like glass. The kite surfers had been replaced by paddleboarders and we jealously watched them cruise about as we packed up and headed off. We navigated a few long swooping bridges that connected different islands on our northerly journey until we got to the bridge that took us back to the mainland. Now we left the ocean and started our long westerly trajectory across country. Bye Bye Atlantic.
