Windy Ocracoke

Heavy winds. Clear skies. Freezing cold. 

So naturally Rusty and I took a road trip. 

It was a half hour each way because we stopped to inspect the chaos along Highway 12. Predictably we are cut off with wind gusts to 56 miles per hour. 

This could be serious but as it is we are fine. I worry more about peoples’ animals and I  hope they are being looked after. Himself is snug indoors when he wants to be enjoying the central heat.    

We don’t have a dog door so when he’s had enough of sunbathing on the deck he sits at the front door and stares through the glass. I wish he’d bark but he just stares real hard. It gets annoying  keeping an eye out for him but what can I do? He woke me as usual at 5:30 and we went for walk number one. It was going to be a long day. 

The 5:30 car drove by as it does each day and turned up it’s side street. Maybe it’s the night auditor at some weird all night emporium tucked away on Ocracoke. It was warm, 60 degrees but Rusty got bored so we went home.  I slept till 9:30. Then we took walk number two. We passed Santa looking the worse for wear, flopping in the breeze like he’d tied one on the night before. 

And we arrived at Springer’s Point. 

A cacophony of signage. Dogs on leash. Pick up after your dog. Use common sense etc…I did a whole post on Springer’s Point which is going to crop up here next week as this place has some history, but for now it’s storm drama shock horror. 

I wanted to enjoy the storm a bit. That’s why we came to Ocracoke: to enjoy winter without suffering my kryptonite which is snow. So far so good.  

There are some resemblances to Key West  inasmuch as the sound is shallow and honking winds create relatively modest waves which surprised me. 

Hurricane Dorian in 2019 was a Category 1 storm but it caused terrible damage to Ocracoke. 400 of the 1200 homes in the village were wrecked or suffered severe damage. A lot of them were rebuilt on stilts, not the 15 foot style of the Keys floodplain but by at least a few feet. 

It was windy out there and Rusty found the creaking cedar trees to be a bit disturbing. He preferred walking the waterside trail. 

I enjoyed it thoroughly, not too cold but windy enough it gave me camera shake in the strong gusts. We met another couple of people out there watching the waves. Bonnie and Jason rescue cats, live in central North Carolina and are used to the power being knocked out by periodic winter ice storms. Rusty loves Bonnie.  They weren’t phased by the prospect of no power over the weekend. 

Actually they had planned a trip to Antarctica with another couple of friends but  their flight, not their friends’ flight, got delayed and all their connections went west. They weren’t too bummed as they knew Antarctica would be there when their trip got reorganized. But still …their friends are down south and they are here. 

So what do you do if you can’t see the snowy white wastes of penguin land? Why you book a trip to Ocracoke of course! That gave me pause. I’m stuck on an island which Antarctic explorers choose as an alternative to the coldest place on Earth? I enjoyed talking to them. 

Layne had bean soup to make after lunch so I planned another expedition for later in the day. 

Meanwhile we meandered over to the tea shop around the corner to have a hot chocolate, for us not Rusty who was reveling in the cold air. 

The little store boggled my mind. They had all sorts of delicious English foods, Christmas pudding, custard, chocolates and so forth. I snuck a fruit cake past the guardian of my health which I shall eat alone as Herself hates candied fruit. Lucky me. 

Traditionally bread is said to be the “staff of life.”  I am one of those peculiar people who actually likes fruit cake and could live off it. Give me your castoffs, unwanted gifts and make me very happy. A cup of Yorkshire Gold and a massive hunk of this stuff, any fruit cake, and I’ll shut up for the time it takes to stuff it in my face. Ocracoke came through for me. 

It was a raw day yesterday with more promised into Christmas. 

Rusty was pretty tired and slept through the indoor  exercise portion of the afternoon. He actually expressed some reluctance to get aboard GANNET2 for a drive he was that tired, my middle aged dog. 

The (only) road to the Hatteras ferry terminal was windy and wild. 

Getting out of the van to make a photograph took some planning to avoid the wind and wind blown sand coming inside. 

Hatteras on the horizon, twenty minutes away on a free ferry ride currently unattainable. 

The terminal obviously was deserted. This isn’t the time of year where you might have to wait for the next ferry even when they are running. In winter they run about once an hour from 4:30 am to midnight daily, approximately. 

It was cold and strangely energizing to be out leaning into the wind. No boats at all at the docks! 

Rusty was pretty sure the whole trip was bogus so he stuck with me but took no joy in the display of nature as I did. Back home he passed out exhausted on the couch.  We got into the van and drove the 14 miles south, twenty minutes roughly back to the village. 

I’m sure locals drive this far above the 55 mph speed limit in their giant trucks and do it in ten minutes but I was in no hurry. 

It was a beautiful evening and I could stop as I wanted to look at the scenery. There was no other traffic. 

The ocean wasn’t the sound, the waves here were much larger. Europe and Africa were three thousand miles in that direction: 

Apparently Highway 12 at Oregon  Inlet further north on the main islands is still a mess from Dorian and is getting some work. The two hour drive to Kitty Hawk is not much different from this as I remember it. And I’m not surprised the highway gets torn up from time to time. 

They have to build the sand berms to keep the ocean off the highway but that does rather limit the views as you drive! 

I pulled off only at the parking areas for beach access. I was not in the mood to get stuck in unseen soft sand and find myself faffing around trying to dig out all by myself. There was bean soup and fruitcake waiting at home.  

That was fun, an hour spent getting cold and wind blown and wearing out my dog. 

The rental company sent us a note reminding us to let the taps drip to prevent freezing. Of course the sound of precious water drip drip dripping is driving me mad but I’m not in the tropics anymore. 

Waking up Christmas Eve morning Rusty decided 8:30 was a good hour to venture out so he came in and woke me yawning ostentatiously as usual. Our walk was frigid with west winds cutting through everything. Even the modest puddles were transformed into things of beauty more or less.